January 6, 2002

The individual flame extinguishes anyway, so there is no reason to hasten the process. There is a strong case for dying a natural death after what we saw in 2001

THE year 2001 was the year of suicide. Through suicides, people attempted to make political, moral and even socio-economic statements. There were some high-profile suicides that shook the world, and some private ones that were an extreme form of escapism. But, by and large, we will remember the year as a critical period in history when suicide became a potent weapon of mass destruction. The world realized that nukes are no longer the only weapon that will petrify it in future. Apparently, there are many individuals who are prepared to die, and this is not good news for the world.

There were times when suicides were even considered honourable, especially in Europe in the early times of the Roman Empire. When the last Ptolemic ruler to govern Egypt, Cleopatra, killed herself in 30BC on hearing the news of the death of her lover and spouse Mark Anthony, suicide assumed a noble, romantic and tragic meaning, and spawned generations of literature and theatre.

She committed suicide probably by giving herself a bite of an asp (a snake) since she feared that Octavian will parade her in her own country as the capitulated queen. Mark Anthony himself was deluded earlier by the false news of Cleopatra’s death and had decided to fall on a sword, a celebrated way of suicide in those days.

The world changed and influences of various religions made suicide a moral taboo. Still, suicides never perished from the world and economic and psychological issues continued to cause troubled people to end their lives. There were some period-related suicides. For instance, suicide incidents increased in Germany after World War I, and in America during the Great Depression of the 1930s. But never were they considered a serious threat for others.

Now, however, suicides are becoming a potent force to reckon with. They no longer reek of romance and honour of the good old days of the Roman Empire, but of death and destruction.

It is debatable whether suicide-seeking persons of the year 2001 found their heavens or not. However, what is certain is that their voluntary deaths were something the world could have done without. Human loss of life that followed the WTC episode was enormous. Islam — rightly or wrongly — got a bad name and Muslims became targets of hate the world over.

The private suicides were no better, as they caused more hardships for those loved ones who were left behind. If those who killed themselves could have watched what transpired after their deaths, they would have felt mortified and, perhaps, betrayed by the people who threw them in this fire. If we suppose that their souls are up there, wanting to communicate with their dear ones about their confessions and admissions, then their letters intended for their dear ones on earth, might look like these:

LETTER FROM THE HIJACKER: “Dear Father,

“This is your lost son who got lost. I feel I played into the hands of the very Americans that I hated. I facilitated their entry into Afghanistan, which enabled them to pursue their designs, including regional domination and, of course, that pipeline business. I am the architect who fulfilled this American dream and an abettor in the big crime that the West committed in Afghanistan. This letter will never reach you, but I must write to get it off my chest, or, should I say, soul.

“I feel I have still not landed; my flight not over yet. I am caught in a time warp and go through the episode of September 11 constantly. While I await some divine decisions, remorse is eating away at my vitals. When I blew up the plane I was convinced that I was making the best use of my life. I was killing infidels. It would strike terror in the hearts of the West. They would be terrified, and people of my religion will gain ascendancy.

“But you know, when you die, your sense of classifying people all but eludes you. You begin to see all humans as God’s creation. He gave his greatest gift to both the believers as well as the infidels, and that is life. I dared to boorishly throw this gift away. I also stole thousands of gifts given to others by God. Pity me, because I tremble at my deed.

“Now, as the plane turns eastward, I see the tall towers; yet again. I sense life, pulsating inside the concrete structure. I am slowly doused in its mellow fragrance; so sweet and innocent like the smell of a child’s pencil box. As the jet nears the building, I feel emotions that have till now been alien to me. It is like an imperfect de ja vu. And, then, time becomes still. The clouds above and the bustle of life below, all are motionless. Even the plane suspends quietly in midair facing the tower, almost as if contemplating, with engines’ buzz as light as the sound of a butterfly’s wings.

“I watch the tower and pulse of life it houses through the windows glass. A man is seated and is looking at the picture of his daughter on the desk. Another man is jostling up the stairs. A Muslim woman is adjusting her scarf in a back room. What is their crime? Their crime is .... thoughts fail me. The crime, perhaps, is that they are at the wrong place at the wrong time, unnecessarily in the harm’s way. The reasoning is so different than what was preached to me on earth.

“My plane has stopped so near to my target that I can almost hear a man shouting from a window in the tower. He is asking me, ‘son, there is a large statue just over there, the symbol of American pride for decades. Why do you not spare us and destroy that instead? It is an eyesore anyway’. I yell back that the statue is lifeless, so where will be the fun. I have come to kill him, the American taxpayer who make America powerful. The statue does not pay taxes, hence is spared. Only killings on this soil can make the world a better place. The man on the 73rd floor laughs and tells me I have a knack of telling cruel jokes.

“He can laugh because he is dead and without burden. I cannot even smile because I carry the heavy baggage of countless deaths on my conscience.

“Back in the plane, a mother is breast-feeding her infant. It strikes me as nature’s great manifestation of how supportive it is to sustain life. I look at the small child and search for a tag of any religion or nationality, but can find none. Humans have always been assembled without labels. They are branded products only for those whose eyes are prejudiced.

“And then the stillness ends as if someone has released the ‘pause’ button. The plane rushes forth with deafening sound, heading towards the building. I look afar towards the Statue of Liberty; towards a missed chance of salvation, perhaps a better destiny. Mind blackens as the flames wrap themselves around me, and I am dressed in flames. Life has been murdered by me. Breast-feeding has gone in vain. And my flight soon starts all over again.

“I can also see mayhem in Afghanistan. I seriously think I am the reason. Killings only bring more killings, and no peace. It is a lesson learnt too late. Please pray that my flight ends. I am exhausted and want to land.”

LETTER FROM A MAN WHO HANGED HIMSELF IN HIS KARACHI HOME: “Dear Razia,

“It is not great here and there is no point lying. I am sorry that the fan fell on he ground the night I died and glad you escaped unhurt. There were strong reasons for me to take this extreme step. I was in a financial mess. I had no hope of getting another job and was receiving threat from my lenders. It was a combination of fear and desperation that made me escape through the backdoor.

“Moreover, you were not great help either with your never ceasing taunts. But when I see you lying at night with children huddled on your either side, my soul bleeds. Do not think that there is no one to see tears that moisten your cheeks every single night. They come because of my absence and the hardships that befell on you after my death.

“How much I wish I can wipe the saltwater from your face. But souls are limb-less and I watch helplessly as they fell drop by drop on my little kids who unconsciously taste it and smile as if food is to follow. My decision was hasty and criminal. I stopped looking for hope and foolishly thought I have lost it forever. “Please do not forgive me because my soul will not be purged till it suffers for this sin and that can only happen if I remain un-forgiven.”

LETTER FROM A PAKISTANI WHO DIED IN MAZAR-E-SHARIF: “Dear Amma,

“I let myself killed because I was human and did not want to die like a dog. I wanted dignity for myself. So I let myself burn in that school building. I do not think I committed suicide. I have been murdered. They told me I was sturdy and strong, just the type that can be handy and who can teach the Americans a lesson in combat. They also told me that it was the ultimate battle to save Islam, which, they said, was in great danger. I would be damned if I sit at home wearing bangles. They enticed me by narrating the divine rewards stored for me in case I died.

“Moments before I perished, I knew I was dying a useless death. Islam was not in danger, nor was it a war against the infidels. I was dying because we, the foreigners, were deserted by our Afghan brethren to die by the hands of fellow Muslims. I wish I could ask those who preached so much hatred: was their life more precious than mine? For the chose not to come, and instead live another day to hurl another generation of youth into the well of death.”

We can only hope that the trend of committing suicide will vanish from this earth and the world will become a better place to live, and will, thus, make the case of killing oneself less compelling. We need to value life since it is already so fragile and the individual flame extinguishes anyway. There is no reason why we should hasten the process. There is a strong case for dying a natural death after what we saw in the year 2001.

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