|Image Credit: Dawn/Khalil Shah|
I wonder if it’s right to call it resilience. To say that our spirits aren’t broken. Is it really my place to make those claims – someone who’s (fortunately) not directly impacted by a tragedy? Would you call it courage or just acceptance-of-circumstances-and-choosing-to-live-with-it compounded with a sense of how we live most of our lives: ‘it won’t happen to me’.
I will naturally mourn something as terrible as killing innocent people in the name of a false cause but does a collective call for standing united does anything for the ones who actually suffered. Or does it just help the ones at a distance, like me, get over it in a socially sensitive way. Or perhaps reconcile their feelings in some way because it is painful for everyone, albeit with varying intensities.
Do people care about a loved one being called a martyr when that was not the purpose they chose for themselves. Is it fair to hand them that title, perhaps even impose it on them.
I don’t know the answer. I’m just simply wondering. Not with the intention to vomit on anyone’s sentiments but just to understand from whoever has figured it out.
In the meanwhile, here are some pictures of Lahore and its life, that I found interesting. I’ve credited all sources but if you’d rather not have your image in this post, let me know and I’ll happily remove it.
|Used books in Old Anarkali. Image credit: Locally Lahore|
|The only sitar making shop that remains in Lahore. Image credit: Tribune|
|Pottery seller in Lahore. Image credit: Maciej Dakowicz|
|Street cricket. Image credit: JF Peters|
|Eating out at the old Food Street. Image credit: Geocities|
|Basant. Image Credit: Defence.pk|
|Eid holidays. Image credit: The Nation|
|Poster exhibit at the LLF. Image Credit: The National|
|Holi celebrations. Image credit: Dawn|
|Veteran guitar player, Asad Ali. Image credit: NPR/Mobeen Ansari|
Until next time.