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Journalism of Courage
The New Year dawned shell-pink, the profiles of the world below seeping through its penumbra of grey, soft as the smile of a million babies in sleep 8212; some of them were those whose bodies had been abused and life snuffed out in demented perversion. They peered from a horizon that was above reproach; their world below, howled in pain and indignation looking for a nail on which this horror could be hung, looking for the head that should roll, overlooking that the issue is not a incident; the issue is incident after incident, one worse than the other, that have etched the skyline of recent years. Blame is always someone else8217;s and society itself is above par. Never mind the convenient tolerance of sliding moral and ethical standards by its members.
Why have we become a society that breeds degeneration of the moral stamina? Can such crimes really be laid at the doorstep of individual perversion or of individuals and homes that foster, often participate in, a formidable build-up towards perversion, validating the loss of every value that would have sanctified human existence in saner times? We have been warned, though, by Zafar: aadmi usko na jaaniyega /Ho voh kaisa bhi sahib-e-fahm-o-zaka/ Jise aish mein yaade Khuda na rahee / Jise taish mein khauf-e-khuda na rahaa However sophisticated an intellect he may have, do not consider him human in the real sense, him who would not remember God8217;s beneficence in his luxuries, nor fear Him in his agitations.
