A Tribute To APS Heroes

Posted: December 17, 2015 in Blog Posts, Events, Short Stories

With the intention of penning down a few words as a tribute to the APS martyrs and for commemorating the death anniversary of almost 150 little faces that deserved to be alive today, I merely wanted to write my condolences.

But even after minutes and hours, I realized I sat there scrolling through the pictures and reading the shared insights. All my paper,which I was able to fill was with the tears that fell off my eyes unknowingly. In that moment I realized I was crying for children I had never met in life, I was feeling the agony of their mothers without even my mom having to say that mainstream line; ‘‘You’ll understand once you yourself are a mother.’’ I was envisioning that apocalyptic day when I hadn’t been a part of it. It left me stunt to feel the ache when a time span of a year had passed having that incident occurred. It burnt inside of me- Humanity: The feel.

No doubt, they are sure in a better place, Like Mubeen’s father repeatedly said

’Today would be his wedding in Paradise’

while welcoming the people who came to offer condolences.

And Like Shaheer writes to his brother Arham,

I know you are happy up there with Allah (SWT). I always pray after Isha prayer and ask Him to let you talk to me in my dreams. Even if it is just once. At least once. You should talk to me. Abbu and Ammi need it. I need it. We know you are okay, but I just want to hear you say it.Take care of your friends there. I can imagine how festive the air around Jannat must be right now, I am sure you lit up the sky with your presence. Allah (SWT) must be so happy that such innocent and brave souls are now near Him.”

A boy’s lost dream of becoming an ISI officer was not just a dream lost, instead endeavored hundreds of boys to see this dream.

They are certainly in a superior place. From that brutal morning to this date, the enthusiasm we witnessed in youngsters, when we were anticipating that the survivors would experience Post Traumatic Stress Disorders was heart-stopping. They surprised us yet again, with the fortitude the survivors wanted to go back to school. The siblings and the companions of the martyrs had passion to take forward the dreams of their fellows. Yes this did not kill humanity, instead it revived humanity. The terrorists who by the grace of Almighty are in ‘‘their presumably expected paradise’’ receiving their ‘rewards’ not only resuscitated humanity but passion for education.

The best reprisal line that turned out after this incident was not to kill the children of the animalistic terrorists or to end their descendants, but rather to educate the child of the very terrorists. It takes me by absolute awe, what might be the expressions on the faces of those terrorists when they would have seen innocent faces, singing this tune, which makes shivers run down our spines? What feelings would pass, ripping them apart, when they would be seeing us as a society walking together, commemorating the memories of the day?

Did they plan they were to spread apprehension of no escape?  Hope was spread around. Was their plan to spread apprehension of no escape and end lives? They breathed life in the society. Were they eager to harm individuals? They prepped more grounded patriots. Had their intentions been to target the future soldiers?  They brought forth better warriors. Would they have liked to retaliate for Army? They gave us more martyrs to pay tributes to. Their success was but failure.

Humanity was killed but humanity was resuscitated.

They came all geared up to take revenge in vain and to end the passion for education, instead they triggered it like anything. Every bullet, every drop of blood, the enthusiasm, the grit, the hope increasingly elevated.

A long time after now, we will be telling the stories of how less than ten heinous assailants who lacked humanity, revived humanity, to our grandchildren perhaps, Just be sure you have more to tell than just,

they went to school and never came back…

A candle melts down whilst it burns, the smolder turns into a blaze at times.

Azka Saqib For Beyond Sanity Publishing

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