Growing up in the world today can’t be easy. Was it any easier for us? Did our parents just shield us better? Was the media less graphic? Or were things genuinely just simpler? Bad was black and good was white and all these confusing horrible greys didn’t exist. A supremely cynical friend of course insists that it’s worse now, that we shouldn’t be having kids and putting them out into the world today. Some days, like the Ahmadi massacre day I seriously begin to think she is right. And other days, like when I get the 10th anniversary issue of O and read about the positivity that people are capable of, I begin to think that each of us generations have our own battles, and we just need to be equipped with sensitivity and courage to be able to face those demons that accost us in our life.
I wish I could write about all the things that have pissed me off in the last few weeks with some kind of authoritative I have done something about it. I was angry about the facebook ban in Pakistan because I felt a right of mine had been taken away. And as the facebook fervour wore off, and the heated discussions and online rants and article faded into what Bina Shah calls a cognitive dissonance, the attack on Ahmadis praying just heated up the blood again. It reminds me of those history lessons spent wondering what was wrong with Hitler, why he could hate a certain race so much as to want to annihilate them. It resonated all those novels I used to devour f the Holocaust trying to make sense of the psyche of those times. The wannabe psychologist in me always wondered what kind of time that was, fascinated by the kind of human nature that was rampant. Same with the 1857 time. And partition. And then as I start making some kind of mental peace with this justifying our pains as growing pains, as some kind of progress by which suffering must happen to achieve results, the aid flotilla gets attacked by Israel. Before one can react to that, those stupid terrorists storm a hospital and kill more people to save their loser friend. WHERE does one start making sense? We get to see iditoic dark age thinking it live in an supposedly enlightened time, a time for change and progress.So yes, my cynical friend has a twisted point and I cannot help thinking about it when faced with all this.
I keep thinking to myself what I will say to Nadi as he grows up and learns the word bomb. Sometimes, I think about the times I will have to differentiate a bad person from a good person for his own safety. And then somedays I am so happy to have the faith that allows me to accept my own limited role in the matter of life. What are you here for then, if you are just living out a role? asks that persistent friend of mine. I am doing justice to that role I guess, believing in the better of people, preferring to see the colours instead of the shadows and doing well by realizing that life is both good and bad and its upto us to keep looking for the good in the bad to keep our spirits soaring. Trite? Perhaps. But if it worked on me, Ill take a chance it will work on my kid too.