Bilawal can achieve better by standing with them on Alamdar Road in Quetta, not by sitting behind the tall walls of Bilawal House. PHOTO: JIBRAN NASIR
On the morning of January 27, 2014, I was looking up air tickets to fly to Quetta to meet the victims of the Mastung blast. None of my friends or family members were excited about this proposition.
Much to their relief, eight of the victims were shifted to the Agha Khan Univeristy Hospital (AKUH) at Karachi the same afternoon. I met 11-year-old Ibtihaj along with a few of my friends that same evening. He was a little overwhelmed, being suddenly surrounded by so many strange faces. A large number of the visitors were of the Hazara community members based in Karachi.
Later that day, I also met other victims whose names most have not heard and whose faces most have not seen on social or television media – and hence they haven’t received due attention.
There is 20-year-old Mehrin who still does not know that she, like Ibtihaj, has lost her mother and sister in the blast.
There is Zakir, who has lost one leg but not the will to walk again.
There is Saadat, who was once a professional bodybuilder but is now paralysed from the waist below.
There is Mujtaba, who has severe injuries in both his legs but a huge smile on his face, knowing that he would only know the full extent of his recovery once he is able to stand again on his feet.
Zakir, Saadat and Mujtaba are of humble means and the providers of their families.
As days progressed, my friendship with Ibtihaj and Mehrin grew. It was easy befriending them because, given that they do not have knowledge of the deaths in their family, one can talk only about happy things in life with them. You can engage them with topics like sports, music, animals (Mehrin is doing her BS in Zoology) and Facebook....Continue Reading...
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