You you and you. Seriously.

I am so sad today.

While half of my newsfeed is celebrating Diwali and Halloween, while half of my whatsapp groups comprise of Muslims teaching how wrong the 'others' history is.

I am sitting here wishing I was not feeling as normal as I am.

They barged into a house. A private gathering. They killed a family.

I wish I could feel the pain.
I wish I could see.
I wish I could make you all see.
You, you and you.
The champions of SUSHI talks.
The rational activists who assume the responsibility of raising awareness about the 'right' and 'wrong' way of mourning.

The confused breed that pauses and selects which country it wants to feel more for. Syria Yemen or Iraq.

The herd. The blind. The lost. The mute. The dead. The you. The I.

I wish we were alive today to witness. To see. To mourn.

Hell with what is the right and the wrong way of mourning.
Hell with your religious and theological debates.

You know what? In a country where the Federal Capital has banned militant outfits chanting minority as kafirs, in a country where my newsfeed seems so calm despite what happened to today. In a country like this.  People ought better be long dead.

And you know what. We are.

There are no two kinds of Taliban today. There is only one. And they like trafficking in mistresses of ego. Now go be happy, your side of religion won today. You ask me which side? I say, the side where you passively receive, selectively mourn and move on. The side where you are home and don't feel a thing.

Imagine how dead we are. Now pause. And imagine just how dead of a generation will/are we raising. You talk about hatred and racism abroad? Hahah. Funny.

We are dead. And dead don't feel.