Saturday, September 27, 2008

The Price of Honesty

Imagine this:

You are walking down a crowded market road with your little brother. Because he's only 13, your mother has asked you to keep an eye on him. So that he doesn't get lost, or kidnapped. That kind of thing. It is quite crowded today. So you grumble and sigh but agree and have been keeping an eye on him all morning. He's been behaving, which is a good thing, but he's a good kid anyhow and you smile when you think of the ice-cream you're planning to reward him with at the end of this trip. It'll make him happy and he'll probably flash that happy silly smile at you. The one you keep making fun of, but secretly adore.

You buy some flowers for the project you're supposed to work on tonight while your little brother ogles at a gaming console at the other side of the street. Its getting late, so you decide to head back. You don't wanna be late for lunch after all. The place just seems to have gotten even more crowded and you urge your brother to hurry. A black motorcycle makes its way into the narrow street and you frown in annoyance. people move out of the way and you too take a step back, holding on to your little brother's hand. The black motorcycle makes its way slowly and carefully through the crowded street. As it nears, one of the two riders - who are both in black - drops a black polythene bag with what looked like a lunch box inside. Pulling his hand away from yours, your goody-two-shoes brother hops forward and picks it up. You look at him and roll your eyes in exasperation, but you can't help but feel proud of him. He's your little brother and he's turned out alright. You smile and think to yourself that perhaps you should buy him two cones of ice-cream instead of just one. You notice a nearby old lady smiling at your kid brother as he picks up the packet and turns to the bikers, and your pride soars even higher.

"Brother, your packet has fallen..."

Those are the last words you hear him say before the blast.

Those are the last words you ever hear him say...


A thirteen year old boy was killed today in a Delhi market as he attempted to return a fallen packet to its owners. Unfortunately for the young sincere child, they did not want their "packet" which turned out to be a low intensity bomb. The last words heard by eyewitnesses and his relations were ‘brother, your packet has fallen.’

My deepest condolences go to the family and friends of the child...

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