By Sidrah Roghay
As I write this post another political worker has been shot dead. As the norm is after the death riots erupted in the city and vehicles arsoned. A leading news channel reported that the police and Rangers were very conveniently absent from the scene of crime.
I remember as a child I loved to go on long walks with my dad. We would stop at my nani’s and eat ice cream on our way back. I grew up to love these late night walks. For the past five years or so I haven’t had the chance to be out on the streets on foot after maghrib. Yesterday after attending a shorter Taraweeh prayer I chose to leave the car for my mom, and came back home walking.
Just as I came out of the exit two men on a motor bike passed me. They were talking in loud tones and sounded dubious but I ignored them. A small distance ahead I saw seven or eight bikes collecting. I remembered a scholar had been shot down a couple of hours ago and I changed directions. The next five minutes that I spent walking were examples of my paranoia. My heart would jump at every vehicle passing by, and relax at the sight of an armed guard.
Once home I took a sigh of relief, vowed to never again go out wandering, and unwantingly my mind raced back to those long childhood walks.