35 days later.

Everyone seems familiar, that look in their eyes, the way their mouths are set, the furrowed brows, the way the hands curl around on the steering wheel, concentrating on something that is either devastating in its destruction or a fleeting thought that will be forgotten in a millisecond. I look on, bemused and alternately bewildered as I watch the waves and remember moments of fleeting happiness, like watching you blow a dandelion farfaraway in the wind and that state of quiet calm, in those nightmarish hours of the morning when nothing seems right.

I don’t know how to describe the past five weeks of my life. I have held back tears and wept unashamedly at the selfishness and love that exists in us. I wish I knew how to put it in words, so that it would have some impact in the near future, but the words pale in comparison to the scenes that replay in my head ever so often.

I will say this though; despite knowing better, despite the hypocrisy of the political system of Pakistan, despite the injustice, despite the callousness and despite the apathy, I would like very much to believe, that these are the last days of the Raj.

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