I’m squeezing the trigger again...and again...and again. All I can see is people running and falling around me.
“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH”
Is that sound coming from me? I bent my head down to confirm.
‘Yeah, it’s mine.’
My shirt is drenched in blood. I felt the numbness start creeping in.
And I…….. I fell down.
I looked around and realized that this is the most beautiful building I’ve ever seen. The architecture is a mixture of various styles. The beautiful vaulted alabaster ceilings, onyx columns, graceful archways, hand-woven silk carpets, crystal chandeliers, an eclectic collection of furniture and a dramatic cantilever stairway is a great combination.
But now the area is riddled with bullet holes, wounded men, screams and sounds of explosion, people fleeing with terror.
‘Wait, why is my vision blurring? Am I dying?’
“NO”
I am able to see. I can see a small but beautiful house and a young lad of about 17, repairing his cycle.
“Wow, what a nice place!”
Surprisingly, I felt no pain!
A lady, probably his mother, came out of the house in a salwar kameez with a dupatta covering her head. She is talking to the boy.
Now, I can see him clearly. He is dressed neatly, if not expensively. And his face, it reminds me of someone. Someone very familiar! That house, that lady - all those are very familiar to me!
Hmmm… why is it so familiar?
It’s...It’s me! A few years back!
I was always very passionate about fighting for my country. I never went to school. In my village, Mukurshi, there was no school. School was a farfetched thing, there wasn’t even sufficient water.
Still, I gathered a lot of information about warfare. I loved reading about the wars, the ones we won, the people involved. Even in my sleep, I never forgot two things - my prayers and my passion.
I always liked Lahore, the only reason being that only here I can be close to the cantonments and the people in them.
Finally, one day, I joined. I was so excited! I thoroughly enjoyed my training period. I was able to play with all the guns and other weapons which I had dreamt of. It felt like a dream come true.
In spite of being away from home, I never felt home sick. The thought of serving my nation made me determined enough not to think about anything else.
At last, the time had come. The chance to fight for my country, my people, the time for my thoughts to be accomplished.
Out in the warfront, there were three trials of our operation. Warnings were given in advance, which I knew were futile.
The fighting started - the sound of rifles and guns was all around. I started shooting; I shot many but never questioned, “Is this right?”
I always felt that even killing is good if it’s for the nation.
Oh God! What happened? Everything is getting darker...
I’m dying. I know that. What are left are my last moments of life!
I, Javed aka Abu Ali, one of the most wanted terrorists, joined the Laskhar-E-Taiba organization as I was not able to join the army. My beliefs and values steered me.
I never felt guilty.
I fought for my nation. And I’m dying for it.
JIHAD
“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH”
Is that sound coming from me? I bent my head down to confirm.
‘Yeah, it’s mine.’
My shirt is drenched in blood. I felt the numbness start creeping in.
And I…….. I fell down.
I looked around and realized that this is the most beautiful building I’ve ever seen. The architecture is a mixture of various styles. The beautiful vaulted alabaster ceilings, onyx columns, graceful archways, hand-woven silk carpets, crystal chandeliers, an eclectic collection of furniture and a dramatic cantilever stairway is a great combination.
But now the area is riddled with bullet holes, wounded men, screams and sounds of explosion, people fleeing with terror.
‘Wait, why is my vision blurring? Am I dying?’
“NO”
I am able to see. I can see a small but beautiful house and a young lad of about 17, repairing his cycle.
“Wow, what a nice place!”
Surprisingly, I felt no pain!
A lady, probably his mother, came out of the house in a salwar kameez with a dupatta covering her head. She is talking to the boy.
Now, I can see him clearly. He is dressed neatly, if not expensively. And his face, it reminds me of someone. Someone very familiar! That house, that lady - all those are very familiar to me!
Hmmm… why is it so familiar?
It’s...It’s me! A few years back!
I was always very passionate about fighting for my country. I never went to school. In my village, Mukurshi, there was no school. School was a farfetched thing, there wasn’t even sufficient water.
Still, I gathered a lot of information about warfare. I loved reading about the wars, the ones we won, the people involved. Even in my sleep, I never forgot two things - my prayers and my passion.
I always liked Lahore, the only reason being that only here I can be close to the cantonments and the people in them.
Finally, one day, I joined. I was so excited! I thoroughly enjoyed my training period. I was able to play with all the guns and other weapons which I had dreamt of. It felt like a dream come true.
In spite of being away from home, I never felt home sick. The thought of serving my nation made me determined enough not to think about anything else.
At last, the time had come. The chance to fight for my country, my people, the time for my thoughts to be accomplished.
Out in the warfront, there were three trials of our operation. Warnings were given in advance, which I knew were futile.
The fighting started - the sound of rifles and guns was all around. I started shooting; I shot many but never questioned, “Is this right?”
I always felt that even killing is good if it’s for the nation.
Oh God! What happened? Everything is getting darker...
I’m dying. I know that. What are left are my last moments of life!
I, Javed aka Abu Ali, one of the most wanted terrorists, joined the Laskhar-E-Taiba organization as I was not able to join the army. My beliefs and values steered me.
I never felt guilty.
I fought for my nation. And I’m dying for it.
JIHAD
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