Monday, June 24, 2002

Missed Missile

My heart ached a heap, as they held aloft a fifty-day-old baby, her tiny body deeply gashed, her angelic face painfully contused, her brown plaits a horrible red. She lay lifeless, robbed of her tender breaths by an intrusive missile, signed on by an ugly warlord, whose hands smell of human blood. No qualms, no misgivings. No quick reprimands by George W Bush. This is a strange, scheming world, indeed. To catch a fish you poison a rill. This defies all limits of sense, if at all any fig of it exists. A one ton laser guided bomb is let go, by an erratic F-16, in the dead of the night on a sleeping people. A herring is hooked not before hacking to death, numerous others. Not before wounding another hundred and fifty. All innocent, all citizens of a Holy Land, prowled about by monster battle tanks and ruthless in humans, hands on the trigger, ever ready to press.

I am getting used to it now. Innocence being lacerated on a day to day basis. Horrendous images of coffins draped in Islamic colors, being carried away to their resting-places. A little squib follows usually, rest is forgotten, if not forgiven. Another dawn. Mankind at its lowest!

It seems as if we are living in the medieval times when warring kings bayed for each another's blood. Hamlets and chalets were burn't, blood and gore filled the battlefields then. Now the entire globe is a battlefield, Middle East its epicenter. Fire is raging still, in the West Bank, else where and in our hearts.

I watched almost helplessly on my TV set, a Palestinian lady in her hijab, grief pouring from her relentlessly, hitting her beauteous face repeatedly, murmuring something in broken Arabic, which they later translated as follows. Her children, all of them, were dead in the previous night's dastardly attack. It is really hard for parents to outlast their children. Wish the statesmen of the world understood. They won't, that's why they are politicians, roue's. I expect more or less the same cockles of the heart from an Israeli parent whose child might have been killed in a suicide bomber's frenzy. How a few irrational decisions and a couple of failed policies can spell irreparable doom, only if we knew. Flawed artimetics of a collective intellect!

A stone hurled by a young Palestinian, out of sheer dejection at times, like last night's despicable massacre, is met instantly with a cyanide bullet. This is the new order chemistry. These are the constraints by and the dictums of the hector. Shutting up a humanity for no sin of theirs, raise an eyelid and your eyeball will be gouged out, the very moment. Hell with human values and ethics. Civil rights, UN and Amnesty... that's all about papers, second rate trash. On the ground it is a different ball game.

Israeli's, I never mean to undermine them, their share of woes. I verily understand, they too are targeted but then they also have an Ariel Sharon to bark loud every time the angels of death, in their dozens on the dark carriages, move from Janine to Jerusalem. They have an utterly jingoistic media to zoom into their focals and carry their tears the world over. To frown with them. An entire civilized world to deprecate their uncivilized tormentors. An array of armory and army ready to pounce on the 'next of kin' of its prey, a docile United Nations to do them no harm. And lastly, the self-styled leaders of righteousness, the super power of them all, the US to praise them galore, their valor and condemn the Palestinian's outright, always! There is little that remains left, still I feel so very bad for the innocent Israeli's killed. For their mom's and chums. We are humans in the first place. I forgot to add though, the poor Palestinians have none to abut on. No pelf, no friends, no USA. Only a God, up above, watching all this, unfettered!

Sameer shaban
After an Israeli missile attack killed the militant leader Salah shehada -- which I have no qualms about-- and 15 others -- my problem -- all innocent, mostly children injuring some 140 others'.

Wednesday, June 05, 2002

Nukes in a paradise!

God Almighty shall ask one of His many angels to sound the trumpet. Time the fourth dimension, will stand still. Moments later everything would be destroyed, each form to the finest of smithereens. The yonder sun will fell down to an arm's stretch. Waters shall bubble, concrete’s melt and airs flee. Winds of the hell will blow to announce in every cleft that the day of judgement has come. That would be an end of the world. Dooms day!

This is what the religious scriptures have to say about the ultimate fate of our globe, universe per se. Wait!
We have all this horror in the making. Fillip the mirror the other side around. Imagine for a heartbeat’s span.
India, the land of antiquity, tolerance and much more, decides that its patience is at the end of its tether, apparently because of continued terrorism on its soil. In the same vein it refuses to acknowledge that Kashmir, the cause of this entire ruckus, is a dispute, rebuffs it is a problem even. Albeit, contrary to Indian claims, some sixty thousand people have perished in the God’s paradise over the last one decade. Wherein football grounds are graveyards now, a couple of thousand little orphans greet you, tears welled up in their innocent eyes. An infringing stick grenade readies to cripple yet another teenager. All this is certainly not normal; it merits to be called a problem, at least.

Pakistan, the ineluctably naughty neighbor capitalizes on all this, all the while with their political, diplomatic and moral support. Actually it has been more, which is an open secret. President Musharraf, the eloquent smart thing perhaps fancies a little nap off the sheen blue waters of the Dal, in the cool zephyrs of emperor Jehangir’s ‘firdose’, but for the knights on the prowl. They don’t let him, ergo his capers!

Bloated with rage, India attacks Pakistan, one fine day. Pakistan holds back for a while and ardently defends its sovereignty. Given the conventional advantage India enjoys, it makes progressive strides. Jingoism swells. A furious Pakistan retaliates with a 30-kiloton nuclear bomb, one of the many in their insouciant stockpile! What then, Doomsday fast-forward!

The temperatures will touch to ten lakh degrees or equivalent to that in the Sun. A giant mushroom of death. Everything will get blown, our intransigence too, to the oblivion. There shall be confetti of nuclear radiation on the reddened sods, blackened souls and the charred remains. Then it would be a big commingle of gloom.
India would answer in the same coin. Pakistan would be strewn with arms, legs, blood a lot of their arrogance. A trillion decibels of destruction. Sock it to unless it is no more, Jinnah’s dream cut short.

God Almighty must already be feeling terribly complexed. Messieurs Musharraf and Vajpayee doing their dirty rehearsals. Stretching and strafing His wonderful creation. All this dehumanization for a small paradise, down here, that once subsisted. We, if you’ll excuse me the expression, India and Pakistan, haggle about it like the two monkeys for a cake of cheese in those nursery rhymes. We have mowed its backwoods, transgressed its virginity, poisoned its rills and yes…murdered both its innocence and innocents. Last shot dead a sane soul called Lone. A heaven that is now a haven for carbinieries and musketeers. Uniformed and masked. It isn’t a vast minuet now; it long ceased to be one.

One billion and hundred forty million of the mankind across the divide do not want to be blackmailed into a calamitous war. There are a myriad ways to sort out differences. No daisy cutters, only daises and daffodils here, please.

India and Pakistan, we, if you will again excuse me the expression, understand one language, share the same waters, breathe the same airs. One taste, one flavor, the same likes and dislikes, a similar passion. After all we have been one people, surely we don’t need to kill each other.

The suave General said yesternight that he wouldn’t nuke India. Indian premier Vajpayee followed suit, said war is not a priority. Let this tenor prevail! God, we can wait for the judgement day.

I invoke Cicero…
I prefer the most unfair peace to the most righteous war.