What is more painful, sitting in front of TV, looking at fire, people burning or being burned to death? I am thinking while watching news and anticipating that tomorrow or day after tomorrow this can happen to me or more frighteningly to my loved ones. Is death more terrible or the fear of death coming to you on uncertain time and place?
Monday night my mother asked me to go with her to Moon Market but I refused as I was feeling tired. After half an hour my sis asked to turn on TV and there was news of blast there. It was just a thought of tired ness which saved us. But are we saved???
The burning street of Moon Market is not some alien place. It is our usual shopping place due to proximity. For even a matching lace we visit there. The hustle bustle of that place has a lot festivity. The most important feature of moon market was that while shopping there you never feel strain or rush. It always feels like you are roaming in some Fun Fair, window shopping, eating and gossiping. Feeling of Apna Pun is abundant there, which you seldom find in other shopping malls.
I remember the young boy who sells Kohla Puri Chappals, so smartly that I always thought he should be in Client Service Department of some advertising agency. I don’t know about him now, is he wounded or else. With all his smartness I can’t assume he is dead.
I remember a 4x4 stall of old magazines and books. Since my childhood, I am buying stuff from that bald intellectual looking man. Initially suspense novels of Ishtiaq Ahmad, then old issues of Readers Digest, and then English novels. He always complained of people who buy everything but books. I really don’t know how he is now. Alive mourning on his loss or withered like his beloved books. His books made me travel very far in imagination. But now I want to shut down my imagination, thinking about what happened to him.
I am seeing a burning corner of street. I can’t see behind fire, but before the fire there was a sunglasses stall. That Baba gee was so up-to-date on style that we chose baba gee’s recommendations. But those glasses could not save him from fire.
Every stall, and every shop there had some time of my life and now its rubbles. The fire has burnt the blood but it haven’t burnt my memories. The kids playing, the women with shining faces at imitation jewelry stalls. The refreshment stall where the shoppers used to get refresh for another round. The beauty parlors, tailor shops, henna and bangle shops on first floor were a heaven for girls. My mind refuses to think how that heaven turned into hell for those youthful happy gals.
I can’t count the pleasures, the festivity and fun of shopping in Moon Market. Now I can’t count the pains cutting my veins. The part of my life is burnt and I am missing it and will miss forever. The people who lost their loved ones will miss them forever. But is this the limit of missing, pain and fear. Not for us who are alive, its continued fear. It will not leave us ever.
Women love shopping but can any woman in Pakistan now will shop without fear. Be it a house maid looking at sasta chappal stall or rich lady buying designer dresses, no one is safe from the fear. I am still thinking is death more painful or fear of death. Am I lucky to be alive and had a chance to live in fear or the ones who have gone.
