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    Volume 9 Issue 10| March 5, 2010|

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The Anniversary of a Tragedy


I am so angry, or am I?

That for the past one year I forgot all about it. That the day surfaced on my mind's sea of thoughts when the first anniversary became journalists' routine story; just like any other assignment on any other day. That I did nothing for over three hundred and fifty days, and yet all that was needed was less than five days for each soul that was brutally put down. Oh! How dramatically I will say that they were raised to the heavens... mere words. Five mere days for a father, a mother, a brother, a sister, a son, a daughter, an in-law... five mere days, and I was miser enough to have kept those days to myself.

I am so sad, or am I?

That life went along, and so did I. That there were so many other matters to grieve about. That the passing away of an elderly aunt blocked my mind from the hard truth that none of the seventy-six murdered were sick on the day; my aunt was. That a serious accident of a friend was overwhelmingly a terrifying event. That they all went to work and my aunt was hospitalised, but my friend went to work too. That they were needlessly made to bite dust by heartless rogues, the kind unseen since 14 December 1971. I am so sad that I shed not a tear since 25 February 2009.

I am so confused, or am I?

That I find newspaper reports naming among the suspects people of different political shades. That there is a possibility that political parties shall attack each other on this issue to make gains at the polling booth. That in crime each person is responsible for his own doings. That one inhuman person does not taint the entire humankind. And we have had so many villains in history. That our electorate has grown up with our born-anew democracy.

I am so concerned, or am I?

That there are politicians and their lackeys who will sweepingly name names in line with their blind beliefs and love for their icons, corrupt or soiled though they are. That they do so often to convince themselves that offence is the best defence. That the mudslinging may cover up evidence and swing the focus of the crime. That not all in politics are in it for the good of the country or its people. That politics today is for some people just another cell of their business house.

I am so worried, or am I?

That the symbol of sombreness and a bastion of our sovereignty, the state intelligence appeared like a bunch of kindergarten kids, or worse, for the children know their alphabets and numbers. That the alleged killers (or definitely those who knew about the mass killings, the abetters in the gruesome crime) were allowed to meet with the prime minister at her office when the dead lay in ditches and drains.

I am so in the dark, or am I?

That their agenda is unknown although it appears to be so straightforward... to embarrass a nation, what else, some say? That they wanted to destabilise the government, others opine. That they planned to avenge humiliation by superior officers, pretend the well informed. That they hunted down officers to get a fair marketing deal from a life-saving economic project that they partook looks obvious to many. That they washed their hands in blood is what the world saw. That way we could all be killing each other until no one was left. That each reason is as unbelievable as the next one. That the cause remains enigmatic.

I am so certain, or am I?

That the killers and their accomplices will be given the death sentence. That the arsonists and the looters will be given exemplary punishment. That the tormentors of the families would be lashed in public. That the civilian abetters shall be given the bashing of their lifetime. That the severest of punitive measures, no less, would act as a deterrent for the future. That the adage shall not return that “when good men do nothing, evil happens”

It is always I.




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