God's Warning...
You wake up at 9ish to realize that your bed is shaking wildly. Still heavily asleep, you walk out, announce, "there's an earthquake!" You are told that your family is already aware of it, and you are instructed to sit down. Still asleep, you just walk back into the room, get back on your bed, and fleetingly think where your father is. Planning to ask your mother whether he would be on a road or would have reached work, you drift off to sleep, while the bed still rocks, and the windows rattle.
You wake up an hour later because your cell-phone is ringing. You see two missed calls, and you pick the phone to hear a frantic voice ask if you're okay. You say, "yeah!" They tell you that they were watching tv and saw how much destruction had taken place in Pakistan. That's when you realise the call is from the other side of the border. You mutter that everything is fine. You are told to wake up, and look after yourself. You are asked about other Pakistani friends, and you mumble that they're okay. You don't bother to ask how India is, how your friends there are.
You sleep some more, and then you wake up to switch Geo on. That's the first time you realise the magnitude of the destruction. Islamabad comes on the screen, and you quickly ask you sister if your "phuppo" lives in Margala Towers. She says no, and you guiltily feel okay about the whole disaster.
In America and England, your sisters are glued to tv, worried about you and family. You're all so far, and all anyone can do is pray.
Reports come in. Thousands are feared dead. School-children are among those unaccounted for. People walk across the cameras, as you watch live transmission. They're crying, shouting, looking for their loved ones.
You call your friend in Amritsar, and ask them details about what's happened there. They insist that the damage is little, and they're more worried about you. You ask them about your other friends,and they tell you all are fine. They keep insisting for you to take good care of yourself. You're touched. You wonder why a call to a city just half-an-hour away costs Rs. 21 a minute, when you can call America and England for a lot less. You would have loved to call every single friend from across the border, but you have no credit.
In the evening, you go to LUMS, and you ask people about their day. You tell them you had a call from Amritsar. They're as amazed as you are. In the midst of this, a casual acquaintance chances to remark that his parents were in a building near Margala Towers, and had to vacate their flat for fear. He tells you he has no contact with them for the time being. All you can say is, "May Allah have mercy on us all!"
Night comes. You're about to go home, when the phone rings again. The number is again Indian. Another friend worried about you, your family, your friends. This time you remember to ask how they are.
At the end of the day, you're sad. But, you're also happy that you had people from the other side of the border worried about you. You're happy that a natural disaster has given peace, friendship, love, and humanity a chance to show their powers.
Tsunami. Katrina. Rita. And now this. You wonder how many people realise this is a message from God.
You wake up an hour later because your cell-phone is ringing. You see two missed calls, and you pick the phone to hear a frantic voice ask if you're okay. You say, "yeah!" They tell you that they were watching tv and saw how much destruction had taken place in Pakistan. That's when you realise the call is from the other side of the border. You mutter that everything is fine. You are told to wake up, and look after yourself. You are asked about other Pakistani friends, and you mumble that they're okay. You don't bother to ask how India is, how your friends there are.
You sleep some more, and then you wake up to switch Geo on. That's the first time you realise the magnitude of the destruction. Islamabad comes on the screen, and you quickly ask you sister if your "phuppo" lives in Margala Towers. She says no, and you guiltily feel okay about the whole disaster.
In America and England, your sisters are glued to tv, worried about you and family. You're all so far, and all anyone can do is pray.
Reports come in. Thousands are feared dead. School-children are among those unaccounted for. People walk across the cameras, as you watch live transmission. They're crying, shouting, looking for their loved ones.
You call your friend in Amritsar, and ask them details about what's happened there. They insist that the damage is little, and they're more worried about you. You ask them about your other friends,and they tell you all are fine. They keep insisting for you to take good care of yourself. You're touched. You wonder why a call to a city just half-an-hour away costs Rs. 21 a minute, when you can call America and England for a lot less. You would have loved to call every single friend from across the border, but you have no credit.
In the evening, you go to LUMS, and you ask people about their day. You tell them you had a call from Amritsar. They're as amazed as you are. In the midst of this, a casual acquaintance chances to remark that his parents were in a building near Margala Towers, and had to vacate their flat for fear. He tells you he has no contact with them for the time being. All you can say is, "May Allah have mercy on us all!"
Night comes. You're about to go home, when the phone rings again. The number is again Indian. Another friend worried about you, your family, your friends. This time you remember to ask how they are.
At the end of the day, you're sad. But, you're also happy that you had people from the other side of the border worried about you. You're happy that a natural disaster has given peace, friendship, love, and humanity a chance to show their powers.
Tsunami. Katrina. Rita. And now this. You wonder how many people realise this is a message from God.
posted by He Who Must Not Be Named at 12:20 AM
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