The following was posted by a blog named Tesseremos. It made me think how much we Pakistanis have failed our own country. It is obvious that ‘one of the perpetrators’ is supposed to mean the 180 million indifferent Pakistani nation. This letter in which ‘I’ is a collective reference to the Pakistani nation must shake it’s collective conscience.The letter below is reproduced as on the Blog quoted above.

THE LETTER BY THE UNKNOWN PAKISTANI BORROWED FROM THE BLOG MENTIONED ABOVE

A lot has been said and written about the ‘Sialkot Incident’. From government officials to the municipal janitors, everyone has contributed to the debate. I am an insignificant person, but I think my voice should be heard. After all, they are talking about me. They are all looking for the perpetrators, angrily, with accusatory fingers pointed in all directions. I should come out and say it now, they are looking for me. I am responsible. I sit here, in my comfortable hideout. Afraid and guilty. I was the cause of the whole affair. What scares me more is that I haven’t repented yet. I am a dangerous person. You should all do something about me.

I was there when it all happened.

When I close my eyes I can hear the voices. Harsh, loud, cruel voices. I can remember how, amidst those, a thick stick hitting a pulp of a skull makes a terrifying noise. If you have a heart, you can even hear the blood spray. I was the one who suggested that we tie them up somewhere high, for everyone to see. Its true, I have no reason to lie.

But I would be lying if I said that it was a spontaneous crime. It was planned. I had been planning it for a long time. Preparing for it, calculating every move, measuring every step, creating stories, inventing reasons. For a long time. The exciting and colorful video that you saw was the fruit of the tree I had been carefully nurturing all my life. It was a public enactment of the climax of a story that I had willfully written. I had worked hard on it.

Every time I bribed a policeman, ignored the traffic signals, sent gifts to judges, made phone-calls to those in power to seek favors, I kept this in mind. Every time I willfully weakened the justice system for my benefit, I knew what I was doing. I knew exactly what kind of crop I was sowing. Some other people did too, but I don’t want to name any names.

Those other people are acting very surprised, but don’t be fooled by this outward display of shock and anger, they were in on it the whole time. They all knew what I was doing. That I was preparing the ground for my ultimate crime. That I was gradually turning the police into a gang of hired thugs. That I was steadily converting the courts of justice into dispensaries of ineffective laws. I was very efficient.

You must know by now how this helped me in committing the crime.

I also prepared the people for this crime, but I will not tell you how, some things must be left unsaid.

However, I should tell you about something really dark and horrible now, since I’ve decided to write to you honestly. This uncensored video that you saw isn’t my worst crime, its the only one you have seen. It wasn’t the most brutal either. But now that you have seen a glimpse of human brutality, I think you are prepared to listen to the really brutal ones.

Imagine. There are one thousand dead bodies in an empty lot. In various stages of decay. Black and gray. Smelling like that dead cat that you passed once, accidentally. Only louder, and multiplied by a million. Now imagine that smell and those rotting bodies together. Keep trying till you can picture the solidified blood on their purple lips. Till you can see the dried tear stains on their dirty dead faces and popped-out eyes. Now picture a heavy bulldozer rolling over them, construction workers crowding all around, construction material suddenly being supplied. Imagine a large house is constructed over the dead bodies right before your eyes. I’m not lying, I have seen this happen. I stood by quietly. I said nothing, I did nothing.

I stood by when a butcher unjustly marched into a mosque, I stood by when entire villages were flooded to save a few palaces, I stood by when powerful people were fighting for the right to oppress, I stood by when fanatics attacked the supreme court, I stood by when my ‘representatives’ proudly displayed their votes in my assemblies before casting them – showing how their votes were bought by the most corrupt man in my country, I stood by when my parties were inciting ethnic hatred to hold my cities hostage, I stood by when they killed innocent people on the streets, I stood by when oppressors came and went – building palaces on dead bodies, one by one.

Who were these two boys and why are they so important to all of you? Just because that video shocked your fragile sensibilities? Because they managed to break a hole in the carefully constructed wall around you? Were you not aware that these things were happening everywhere?

As you read this, an old man is dying of tuberclosis somewhere. He worked like an animal all his life. He was brutally tortured everyday. Physically and psychologically. He can’t even read what I am writing about him. What is better, a quick public death or decades of bearing torture in anonymity? He will die a most painful death soon, but I wont be able to capture his lifelong suffering on camera to shock you with. And I stand by this. I do nothing, I say nothing.

I’m planning a bigger crime.

When I close my eyes I see that ground in Sialkot again. Its much larger this time. Miles and miles of human heads in all directions – 160 million of them, and in the middle, two boys are being beaten mercilessly. The leaders of the mob are in the center, and as we move outwards, the power and influence of the individuals decrease. But all 160 million are here. Some are watching, some are cheering, some are talking in hushed tones, some are busy in irrelevant conversation. Conversation about art and shoes and the weather and new products and finding jobs and going away for vacations and how the place smells awful. Deep meaningful conversations, some of them. But we all stand by this, united. We make sure that the two children are dead. Then we hang them high, for everyone to see.

I did it in Sialkot and I will do it again. I will do it on the streets of Karachi and the flooded plains of Sindh. I will do it in whole of Baluchistan and in the destroyed houses of Nowshehra. I will do it in Waziristan and in Swat. I will do it in Islamabad when I want. Stop me if you can. I am you.

Update: It is repeated that this letter by some unknown Pakistani is aimed at the 180 million people of Pakistan, in general, and to the more privileged ones who can make the difference, in particular, so that the dead collective conscience of the people of Pakistan starts coming back to life and the constant deterioration that we see is arrested before immense harm is caused to Pakistan. The privileged and educated class have a bigger responsibility than do the poor downtrodden Pakistanis.