For Whom The Bells Toll

He was flying, but he couldn't see what was carrying him, making him soar upwards like an eagle. Most teenagers would have been terrified by just imagining this: the probability to plummet any second to his death. Only the unseen harness supported him, but he was used to believing in the unseen, for he was a Muslim. His faith was strong like a bar of steel. He knew he won't fall to his death, no matter what happened. However, he still found it surreal that he was dead, and the part of him flying was just his soul.

As he flew, he could clearly see the gaping holes in the social fabric of the country he hailed from. A nation with the conviction of madmen, and belief of angels; who could have grown to be the greatest nation, had its ego not created barriers amongst them, separating them, causing them to waste their energy on pointless grudges against each other. And that was the biggest irony: his people were the only ones on this planet who believed they're stronger when divided.

He could see his schoolmates being decimated like vermin; the attackers being as sympathetic as a lump of coal. He could hear the wails of his mother, clinging to his lifeless body and kissing his forehead like he was merely asleep, and not dead.

The attackers were all dead now, but they had done the damage they intended to do. He could see the politicians now, back with their hollow promises of justice. He remembered the same words from the time his uncle was killed in a drone strike. The officials had promised justice back then too, but that's all it had been: a promise. He and his friends had vowed to use their education for bringing a change when they grew up, but now, for the better or worse, they were all gone.

He was in the clouds now; the mortal world hidden from his view just as he was concealed from theirs. He could hear laughter above him, and he knew he was almost to his destination. Even then, he couldn't stop thinking about the ones he had left behind. He hoped his family would find courage to make it through without swelling the ranks of the miscreants who attracted followers by promising them vengeance. He hoped his people would unite and change the system of their country, bringing the luxuries like food, shelter and hopes for future to everyone, instead of restricting these for the rich. He hoped the media would not let the people forget the price he and his friends have paid to wake the nation up. He hoped they grow out of their short-term memories and keep remembring their goals. He hoped the religious scholars would finally stand up to draw a unanimous line between jihaad and terrorism. He hoped to see all of his people someday, at the place he was headed towards...