The sound of conscience

I woke up to a startling dream. The victims of the recent Lahore blast had come to my door and were knocking. The knocking was severe and loud. I woke up to the sound of it, confused and panicking.

The knocking was perhaps the sound of my conscience.

A splinter group of the Pakistani Taliban later claimed responsibility for the deadly attack, and pointed out that it was meant to target the Christian community.

Born in a family that belongs to the religious majority of this country, I sleep at night in peace in the comfort of my cosy home. But my Christian brethren live in constant fear in this ‘Land of the Pure’ and I have done nothing to ensure their protection. Being a privileged member of this confused society, it was my job to make sure that Mutahir Javed does not breathe his last in front of his father. He was around the same age as me and should have had the same rights as me — the right to life, liberty and pursuit of happiness. But my unfortunate brother dies while I continue to live.

This guilt takes over me and shakes my senses. How many more of these deaths do I have to see to prompt myself for some action? The teachers at my Catholic school belonged to this persecuted community and played an integral part in making me who I am today. Will I ever be able to look at them in the eye? They gave me an education and taught me to distinguish between right and wrong, and here I am, having done nothing to even try and return their favours.

I have failed my Christian brethren and my heart weeps for the loss. But what difference does this good-for-nothing grief make? It will not bring back the sons of the wailing mothers.

And since I have failed them, those lost sons and their grieving fathers will continue to come to my door, haunting my conscience, asking me why I did not protect them. I should have protected them and if not, I should have died with them. Yet I live, and this is nothing but a life of shame.

Published in The Express Tribune, April 1^st,  2016.