All I have is a Dream..

For most of us, Blasts are just another daily news feed. They are always happening. Some times, near to where we stay and some times, in a far part of country. To a country of billion people, half of which barely manage to do more than survive, Blasts are no big deal. Human life is not big deal. Yes, we lose so many. But then we have more to worry about. It’s a sad state of indifference.
My First experience with a blast that I remember was way back in 1988-89.. I was about 8 yr old, Vacationing in Paradise of Earth, namely Kashmir with my family. All I remember is we were in a bus at bus station and another bus next to ours exploded. I don’t remember being scared. Just the sighs of my parents, what if we had boarded that bus. I think it was empty. But maybe it wasn’t. I just don’t remember. This was beginning of destruction in Kashmir. I guess I’m one of very few left in my age-group who saw Chrar-e-sharif standing. Not in photographs, not in news. We visited it.. we were there.. It was safe to roam around in Kashmir then. We never went back. Of course, we still visit Jammu every year, but never Kashmir again.
Next time, the meeting with chaos happened in Karol Bagh in 1997. It was Diwali Shopping time and Karol Bagh was our favorite market to shop. Every family has few rituals. Ours was having kulfi at Roshanlal’s. My mother decided we should do my shopping first and then head for Kulfis. We came out of shop only to find people running around. My Father thought someone has just spread some rumour. Afterall, we hadn’t heard any sound. My mother decided it was time to leave. No more shopping for the day. While walking towards our car, we saw the lane with curtains. My father asked my mother to buy few. But she was freaked out. So Without any further discussion, we left for home. Later on, we found out first blast was at Roshanlal’s and second in same curtain lane. It was scary. We were there just few minutes before the blasts.
And then in 2005, My dad picked me up from train station, just an hour before the blast.
2008, first scare was when blasts hit Bangalore. Brother was safe.
Now, Just because of a hangover, I had canceled plans of shopping in Delhi. I was lucky again.
My friend was in CP with his family when blasts happened. Luckily they all are safe.
It’s quite a chronology I’ve got here. It’s a strange feeling. We hear news. We try to reach our loved ones. Drop a tear for those who perished in dark. And move on with life.
Not even scared. Just sad.
Should we really be sitting in our homes and watch our political leaders blame each other?
Would this ever stop? We would forget about this in few days. What about the families who bore this pain?

Edit: A week later, there was another blast in another Delhi Market and this time we were shopping in different Delhi market..
I would really like to get calls from my parents complaining about how much I shop rather than if I reached home safely after shopping.