Twelve

 

Just read about a 12 year old suicide bomber killing 31 soldiers in Pakistan. I don’t know what is more heart-wrenching – That 31 soldiers died? Or that we now have really young children being used as suicide bombers?

 

And what is more criminal – To kill soldiers? Or to brainwash a twelve year old into throwing his lunch box and books out of his bag, and instead stuffing it with explosives? What level of an animal is required who could even think of finishing off a young life for the sake of an imaginary war?

 

Though I can never, ever fathom (and I hope I never do) what would actually be running in the mind of that young boy as he moved ahead to carry out the task, nevertheless here’s an attempt at what those thoughts might have looked like --

 

This load I carry,

Am I too young to comprehend?

And too shy to ask my crying mother,

Is there any way I can make amend?

 

Will God ease the pain,

As I blow myself to pieces?

And which parts of me, will they finally find,

When they start to count, the missing bodies?

 

Will my brother believe,

That I have actually left him alone?

Won’t he be waiting at the ice-cream shop

Buying for me, a fresh chocolate cone?

 

School is off, so they said,

I have learnt enough for this lifetime

How and when, to press the trigger

My last lesson, before the finish line?

 

My mother packed, my lunch for me

But they said that food, won’t be needed anymore

The other side of life, is a very different land,

The pearly gates? Or the bloodied door?

 

Will there be redemption

For my sin of being born in this place?

And won’t there be condemnation

For those who want to win, this deathly race?

 

And to my father, I still will ask,

This very last question

Though twelve years, isn't a very long time,

But wish you could tell me, was I a worthy son?