The figures that haunt me are not in Math…

The figures that haunt me aren’t in Math they are in my reality.


The days are long and exasperating. As I write this it is 2:23 in the morning and my mind is riddled with figures that make me an insomniac. I can hear the fan squeaking as it tries to fight off the wrath of the heat I can see it giving up  I can see it slowing down  The June heat in Pakistan is naturally insufferable with the temperature often rising to forty or so. As I sit on my bed in Karachi staring at the fan that has completely stopped now I hear the figures blare in my ear drums. I hear them cry out in pain. So many tears, so many families, so many heart breaks. My eyes are drowsy from lack of hope and deprivation of sleep. Oh but these figures they know no mercy. They know only facts and they know only truths. They aren’t just numbers oh no- they are proof. Proof that someone somewhere has become an orphan, that someone somewhere has given in to the heat, it is proof that we just can’t anymore. We just can’t.

Welcome to Karachi where the suffering just doesn’t cease. I does not repent to God. It knows of nothing but death. It knows of nothing but figures.  I see them now chanting satanic verses on the memories of those friends that they took to become one of their own. I can see my beloveds metamorphosing into nothing but figures. I can feel my treasured moments turning into terrifying tales of woe that will haunt me for the rest of my life. My eyes are getting heavier but my mind is awake. Their chanting keeps it up.

Most of the time these days we look up at the clear blue sky and pray for rain. I do not know where the prayers are now but I do know they aren’t in this world. Oh no if they were they collide in the mind’s of the human race as these figures do in mine. Our prayers are in the sky roaming waiting for an answer. So far the only answers are these dark and deary figures. Figures that fall from my eyes-the only similarity to rain God doesn’t bless us with.

I want them to stop. Too many children, to many futures, too many friends, too many fellows have turned into these figures. But they won’t stop. They do not know of pain, they do not of laughter, they do not know of the human heart-they know of only unfeeling numbers.

Eventually though the pain will stop. And I too will not know of laughter, of pain or of the human heart and I to will be a figure.

Note: I was actually awake at 2;23 a.m I wrote some of this then and some of this (the first paragraph) and some now (the rest of it). If you are reading this please pray for my city we have been plagued with several problems the heat is a new one that has erupted. There is no rain. The figures are above 1000. We do not know what to do. we are alone.

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