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Mon, 11th Aug 2008  Bombs, rains, office and weekend - not the best of the combinations. This was what my GTalk message bar proclaimed to all those who had access to my GTalk ID.
Though short, it was perfect catharsis for someone like me who quiet nonchalantly believed that events leading to the weekend had actually eroded my prospects of enjoying outdoors with my equally unconcerned friends.
Little did I realize that there lied a little boy, in hospital bed of bomb struck city, who was crying for help to relieve him of the pain. The pain he had to bear for no fault of his. The wound inflicted on him was gory reminder of the fact that there is more to terrorism than just vengeance, destruction and proxy war.
Yash writhed in pain and the world made money. Some got the best opportune moment to bake their aspirations in the heat of the burn wounds suffered by him.
Sushma Swaraj sniffed political conspiracy in injured Yash. For her, Yash's agony was result of rival party's effort to divert the nation from the more important issues.
Would she have made same comments if someone in her own family was wounded like this? Or is she just the face of deteriorating human values in the present world? This is where I feel lies the crux of the problem. We so indifferently ignore symptoms until it acquires deadly proportions.
Humans have a tendency. The tendency to hit back. It never looses any opportune moment to lash out at rivals. Bush was misdirected in wasting time, energy and focus in destroying Iraq in the aftermath of the 9/11. So is Sushma today. But is it mere coincidence that two accomplished politicians failed to see reasons?
Or is it our inane nature not to look beyond ourselves. Sushma Swaraj feared that cash-for-vote would take backstage in the aftermath of the blast and so will her political career. She had to act fast. For her, Yash was only paying a small price of venturing outdoors when bomb was destined to blast.
Bush would never have found better stage to accomplish what Sr Bush failed to do.
This brings me back to Yash. My spine shivered when innocence was murdered in that hospital bed of the city under veiled attack, when Yash yelled and camera listened. His eyes had questions. Questions that reverberated my mind. How many more innocence would be lost to such acts of ignorance?
For how long we would waste our time, energy and focus in only writing and talking?
My dad called me four times a day for days after blasts in Bangalore. Yash had no such luck. He lost his father in the blasts in Ahmedabad. Ironically, he is too young to realize that he has lost the warm cuddle of his father to the same blast which wounded his body, soul and mind.  | 
