Rinse. Leather. Repeat

150 lives lost. The city stopped for a few days. Then every one forgets about it and moves on. Back to routine life. The tragedy seems like a nightmare. No one wants to recall it. It’s a bad memory. You push it as far in your mind as possible. The city claims to be alive. The city claims to be tough. The city claims to be a city of live-hearted people. Live-hearted? What?

No body cares about those 150 lives. Not even me. If people cared, they would have marched the streets in protest. They would have driven those politicians out again, some hyperactive youth would perhaps have attempted to get rid of a corrupt politician, or two. Rung de basanti style.

But none of that happened. All we got was a couple of days off from work. We watched movies, slept, ate out, enjoyed the long weekend, and from Monday we will resume our lives, claiming to be tough, claiming to have moved on after the tragedy. Does moving on just means you forget what happened? Or does it mean make some changes to ensure what happened doesn’t happen again? In our case, it always happens again. Before October 18, it was May 12, before that it was April 11, 2006, history is red with bloody pages of Karachi. And history proves it that we never do anything. We only get a couple of days off and that’s it. Until another bomb blasts and that’s how it goes.

Rinse. Leather. Repeat.