I don’t know where to start as its been 362 days of hard trying but every time my pen stops at the point, my heart skips a beat, and tear makes every word vague to follow up while writing about those young innocent souls. Nothing could ever fill that space they left for this nation. Empty places coloured red. The story of this colour is about power it owns. Blood is red because blood is always thicker then water it is as much a colour of fear as it is of love. Those chairs, to inspire every child to sit and learn. Those geometry boxes, having pen of eternal ink to write over and over again that “Pen is always mighter than sword”. There is a scale too for making measurements of the way from school to heaven. There is an eraser to rub fears of students from acquiring education, and all worries of there own parents whose world is upside down , to erase hatred all over the world. A sharpner to refresh our memories and sharpen that pencil of revenge for killers by distributing that pencil among there kids to educate them and explore this world in optimistic way. Each drop of blood on every bloodied pair of glasses can make more clearer picture which can’t be seen by retina of ordinary human eye. Your uniform having marks of your blood actually, and every one wants to seek that fragrance from Shuhada’s uniform, it can’t compete any of perfume in this world. It is gonna blend in the air of every institute in Pakistan.
I wonder how can people from Pakistan can repay the endless debt of the tiny martyrs. My heroes, may Allah showers all His bledsing upon you and your families and grant you highest rank in Jannat ul firdous. You have won the game but the cost is too high, and I am sure your reward from Allah (SAW) is also priceless.
MAHRUKH IBRAHIM,
ABBOTTABAD, December 14.