Let me begin by stating reality: blood, bullets and terror. A day without the daily dose of gunshots feels like an unusual occurrence. I do not want to tell you a lie or give a misleading impression because I have already suffered the consequences of many, by telling you that I live in one of the safest nations of the world, or that our situation is a lot better than yours, because we know who is to blame, will not change the fact that today, someone died. Someone lost a father, son, brother, daughter, sister or mother. Maybe five people were killed today. better than the ten yesterday I could say, making you believe the situation is improving but for the one who suffered through the loss of brutal murder, the world came crashing down around them, their heart broke in a million pieces and they see no way out of this grief, leaving me to sit here recalling a childhood symphony.
Peace time, peace time,
Time for making peace,
Time to say I love you,
Time to stay as friends
A verse of a song that still inhabits my mind, the tune ringing out distinctly and the idyllic scene of forty, ten year old girls lined up in rows belting out at the top of their voices, unknowingly promoting the message of peace. Looking back at the simplistic words and the innocent request, a simple act of declaring love the solution to achieve, what till this day remains unattainable. I ask you, do I call this childhood memory another facade or betrayal?
Human beings have been in pursuit of this word for an inestimable amount of time and as a world wide solution they have come to agree that war is the way to go but how can that be, when war itself is a problem. Like two parallel lines, the concept of peace and war are put together, their logic never comes to a proper conclusion and so we are left to analyze the distance between the juxtaposed ideologies and dwindling between the paths of extremities.
I have studied the history of my country, a nation that was born seventy years ago in the name of freedom and independence. The pages filled with tales from the eighteenth, nineteenth and the twentieth century. These records of battles, constitutions, conferences and protests, the events though as misfitting and uncomprehending may seem all came to fit a puzzle. A map of a country called Pakistan.
The book is divided into the sections labeled pre-partition and post-partition and though the former serves to make us feel proud, of all those who struggled and suffered to make a dream come to exist. The latter increases our sense of patriotism, seeing a newborn take its first step into the world, trying to survive on its own. The question asked in our O level history exam remains the same" What were the problems faced before partition?" Or "What were the problems faced after partition?"
Crammed dates, achievements and names but never did the sentence '14 August 1947 Pakistan was created' was followed by 'and peace attained in both countries' My generation learnt of the problems of our predecessors and today I witness the actions of their successors and all I have to say for the future generations is your history book is going to be a lot more thicker than mine.
The definition of this used and abused word is imprinted in every mind more so in today's day and age. However for every individual that can formulate an opinion of their own, the source of peace differs. While the western media goes into frenzy over the death of two people, their death seen as a statement of conspiracy to stir mischief where 'peace' prevailed previously, I let out a sigh of relief when I see the death toll of the day has not exceeded fifteen in my own city.
The noise pollution is increasing with feminists fighting for equal rights, anti-feminists rebuttalling, all the while still debating the definition of feminism. The LGBT community not afraid to speak their minds and phones beeping every second with updates on happenings of the world. Days, weeks, months and centuries have passed by with the same issues dominating yet, they believe that after these issues are resolved with a few simple laws, the noise would stop and the silence that would ensue will be the voice of peace. They forget human beings have the tendency to be greedy, a pit of insatiable hunger burning inside them and gluttony is one of the seven cardinal sins for a reason. The words of Sir Thomas Wyatt come to mind" I find no peace and all my war is done".
We may hold two fingers up, or draw a circle or simply let two doves free on the 21st of September. Still the sky somewhere is coloured in with smoke and ash, hatred and anger coursing through veins and the rule that, everything comes to an end is a reality that catches up with you eventually.
We let ourselves believe that peace can be found in the absence of destruction; the basic definition found in a dictionary. We decorate paper with slogans, chant words of pathos and march the streets with determination and a will to change the world. But just as the word 'life' cannot be justified with a few sentences how do we become characters in a montage of a political play.
I once found peace, not too long ago, surprisingly within the borders of my own country, up in the North a bit towards the East. I was surrounded by sky rise mountains, barren and scarred, wind that was fresh and told tales of purity and people who provided hospitality in the hostile weather. Phone service and wifi was not found every where and television a rarity. I was out of touch and far away from my reality but so close to someone else's. While I found joy in discovering the lifestyle of olden days I failed to realize how it was a nuisance for those who bore through the struggles of rough terrain, lack of electricity and harsh winters. My solace, for them, is a struggle of survival. A taste of this persevered word has left me wanting more but, also left me wondering at the cost of what, the irony is as baffling as the fact that, the Nobel Peace prize was initiated by a man who created dynamite.
Let's chant together Peace... Peace...Peace. Once more, Peace...Peace...Peace. Say it enough times and you sound like a cricket that creeks-creeks-creeks, prevalent in the silence of the night but diminishes just as other sources of noise come about. A monotonous mantra that appears and disappears at times of convenience, Peace... Peace... Peace.
(The writer is a student. According to her, she was selected best among 100 students who took part in a writing competition at Oxford University.)