Maybe you saw this coming, or maybe you didn’t. I held back for long, assuring and reassuring myself. I don’t write anything, for the dead people of Palestine, for the refugees of Syria, for the starving of Africa, for the poor of South-East Asia, for the ignorant of North Korea, for the sufferers of mankind. Then, why should I, now? Is it because France is one of the Permanent Five of the United Nations Security Council (UNSC)? But, I am not political.
Is it because I fell in love with Paris at first sight? But I am not a romantic. Is it because that would signify my allegiance to the First World? But I am not an ally. Is it because I like French? But I don’t even speak it. Is it because? No, probably not.
I did think. Nevertheless, I am here. And I will write. Not because, it startles me that, one terrorist attack outweighs all humanitarian crises in the world, which it does not, for, each life is just as important, as each last breath, but because on the very lowest psychotic level of mine, I would thank those armed men. Those hideous armed men. Thank you. Last night you did not just take away 129 human beings, each worth more than billions of your ugly existence, you just brought the world closer to each other. And every time you take one more of us, you will just sew us tighter to each other, because you have no caste, no nation, no love, no religion, but we have you. We are all in this against you.
You’re the solution that we talk of to the problem that you are. Everyday you’re flooding a ground from our blood, where we will grow from, together, around you and suffocate you. You’re heaping up the ashes of the fires that burn our bones, we will choke you with the same soot. You are playing with the threads that hold us, and we will throttle you with the ropes that we make out of them, after you’re bored of this game. We will... thank you.
— The reader is an Indian student based in Sharjah
