Attack on Benazir Bhutto, Oct 18, 2007.

 

Just a couple of weeks back I wrote an article that afterwards made me feel sick to the stomach. It was a round up of a grisly attack on the procession of the slain Pakistani politician, Benazir Bhutto, who was targeted in a bomb blast upon arrival in Karachi a year ago. More than 150 innocent people were killed in that explosion in my home city. The place of incident is just 15 minutes away from my apartment. Even though I pass by it everyday, it was only on that night on my way back from work that I felt like I was driving on blood.

I had trouble controlling my car on that slippery surface. There used to posters of her lining up the road, I recalled. The same place is now adorned with pictures of her grinning widower. How suddenly times change here! I sped on and when I reached the exact spot where the first assassination attempt took place, I imagined myself dashing through the explosion. I heard a terrible sound ringing in my head that made me go numb for a second. The stench of burnt bodies engulfed me. Somehow my car remained intact after passing through that ball of flame.

It’s eerie how journalism thrives on blood. The more people get killed, the bigger the story. Although no one says it out loud, there’s a sickening glee among journalists as they get their lead of the day. A race ensues among them to break it. Reporters rush to the scene excitedly. They will get a byline in the main story, they tell themselves with pride. Photographers like vultures pounce on the dead. Pictures of which are then carefully scrutinized by the X-ray machine called the newsroom. This one looks good, they say to each other there, no this photograph of the blast has more impact, argues another. In short, the same blood continues to get splashed everywhere, be it print, television or online. At times I wonder how can people actually take joy in such work?

The road which I described is a cemetery but no monument exists there today to respect the dead. People carry on driving on top of these invisible graves. But despite hosing down the place immediately after the blasts, the authorities haven’t been  able to wash away the scars of that tragedy…a tragedy that should have never occurred in the first place.