Destiny - مقدر

17 - Power - قوت

"There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, but there must never be a time when we fail to protest." - Elie Wiesel

I stood up from the plastic chair, still shaken and depressed. I was physically swaying from side to side, like a leaf being blown away by the wind. My mind slowly began to fill with anger. This was clearly my fathers doing. Why wouldn't it be? I should've known all along. But I was too blind to see it, out there enjoying life in Skardu. How could I have been so selfish? Everyone thought I was dead, but I was just being blind and egotistical. I had white knuckles from clenching my fist too hard, and gritted teeth from effort to remain silent. My hunched form exuded an animosity that was like acid - burning, slicing, potent. My face was red with suppressed rage.

Burning rage hissed through my body like deathly poison, screeching a demanded release in the form of unwanted violence. It was like a volcano erupting; fury sweeping off me like ferocious waves. The wrath consumed me, engulfing my moralities and destroying the boundaries of loyalty. Ammi Jee had been brutally killed, and I was completely unaware, this whole time. I was in another country, quite enjoying the new life I had built with a new mother figure. I felt like the worst daughter ever, I had completely forgotten about her. I hadn't meant to...but I did. And this whole time...she was dead. 

The girls words rang in my head. Poor man. Poor man...He really had everyone wrapped around his little finger. He inflicted the damage and then off he ran to Srinagar, probably to terrorize another helpless woman's life. And I let him. I ran off like a coward and let him kill her. 

Today I had heard about the wasted lives of two innocent people. That was two too many. No one innocent ever deserves to die. Killing an innocent person is like killing all of humanity. It's completely undoing what Allah has done. Manipulating the path of nature to your own accord. I swayed in anger, letting it fuel my passion like gasoline. "Aqsa, it's okay..." Sarafina cooed, in a voice too soft for my angry ears. "It's not though, is it?!" I burst, instantly regretting being so fierce. Both Daniyal and Sarafina were taken aback by my sudden outburst of anger. As were the daily commuters that struggled to get past us as we stood on the side of the road.

"How many people have to have their lives stolen from them? How many?! How many before people start realising that something has to change? Something has to! I can't deal with this injustice! When will people start listening?" I shrieked, choking on tears. The sobs were stifled at first as I attempted to hide my grief, then overcome by the wave of my emotions I broke down entirely, all my defences washed away in those salty tears. When I at last turned my face to Daniyal I was a picture of grief, loss, devastation. It was the face of one who had suffered before and didn't know if they could do it again.

"I understand it's unfair, but what are we to do about it? They're already gone.." Sarafina croaked, her face creased with pain. The image of someone who had suffered before and was scared of suffering further. "We're only eighteen. It's okay, Aqsa, just live with me." She shrugged. The shrug was such a simple gesture that somehow managed to fill me up with a burning ferocity. It was so dismissive, as if she was trying to escape her own memory. I couldn't do that. "And forget any of this ever happened?" I asked, though it was more of a denunciation than a question. "We will never forget, that's not an option...but what are we to do?" Sarafina replied, her eyes solemn and desperate. 
"We make a difference, that's what! How much people does this have to happen to, after us? There will be so many more! Don't you understand?"
"We can't make a difference, Aqsa! You're not thinking logically!"

I folded my arms, an argument boiling up inside of me as Daniyal watched, nervously. I knew Sarafina's intentions were pure but I was stubborn, that was a fact. I wasn't going to let go of this, nothing she could say would change my mind.
"Yes we can, I known we can!"
"You're a homeless, parentless eighteen-year-old, barely educated, Pakistani girl. Aqsa, don't you get it? Ambition is great, but you have no voice!" Listening to her describe me like that stung more than I thought it would. I really was the definition of hopeless. 
"I do have a voice, and I intend on using it. And it will be heard! You don't have to help me but I will do this, with or without you." I hated arguing with such a close friend like this, but I didn't want her stopping me. Not now, not ever. I began to walk off but Sarafina grabbed my arm and forced me to face her again. Hesitantly, I turned back to face her, a face full of frustration.