Asylum for a lost self

October 7th 2012 was the day I last posted.

Haven’t been with myself since!

And it feels like I just went away from the screen for a sec, but when I try to recall the past 5 months events, it seems like I have really dragged myself’ a long way.

Be it the angioplasty of Abida’s mom followed by a bypass and her brother’s wedding programs going on simultaneously, last quarter of 2012 was a real roller coaster and my head is still spinning.

Tough days were those! I kept longing for my very own cocoon, strived hard to communicate to my own self, to sit with my soul and talk to each other about the pace of life and ways to manage with it but couldn’t get a breather. My self was hand-cuffed and taken away from my flesh and blood, I could only see him behind the bars of unpleasant circumstances which he always abhorred but the chains were so tight he could not break and escape.

2013 came and placed me in a graveyard. A graveyard of my own people, my own community, facing the worst genocide. I have seen 100 dead bodies in one single minute which include toddlers, I have felt the tremors of the massive blast that collapsed 200 apartments and destroyed thousands of dreams. The fear of city closure for an unknown period of time pushed me go shopping for groceries to stock up for the sake of my wife and daughter rather going for the aid of the affected. What if there is another bomb planted??!! And my ‘self’ in prison kept shedding tears over the death of morals and humanity which were inside my heart a long time back.

I want to dig my grave and lie dead in it as it is the only thing remaining, I am already walking dead. My ‘self’ behind the bars of compromises is not even shouting about the kids blown away into countless pieces in recent blasts as he knows my robotic, fleshy body is busy playing with my daughter. I am using my both hands to share that Asif Jaah’s 15 years old nephew could not be found alive and they had to bury one piece of explosion-damaged hand found near the destroyed shop so that his mother could stop crying (or stop hoping for the son’s life).

I have lost a lot recently. I have lost my touch with blogosphere where a lot has evolved, I have lost my readers, but this don’t count at all. My world is at war and I have lost the courage to fight. Today is the last day of elected government in Pakistan as they have completed their constitutional tenure and I am counting pieces of bodies , waiting for DNA reports so that it can be decided which part of whose body was once a center of hopes for many. The pain is getting worse and it s not exclusively about the people of my sect, I still hear the shouts of 300 burning people in a factory who kept calling for help! I wish the nightmare comes to an end soon else my self will die and I might evolve into a werewolf!

Is there an asylum? We are so socially orphan!




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