I am ten years old.
I lived in a small house in a village not far from Lahore. My father worked as a school teacher. My mother worked at home. I had a brother and a sister. My brother wanted to be a doctor when he grew up. My sister wanted to be a teacher when she grew up. My father wanted all of us to study hard and be his pride. My mother wanted us to be healthy and to have a long life.
I did not like studies as much as my brother and sister did. My father had promised me that if I worked hard for the exams, we would be able to visit Lahore for a day. I had never seen Lahore.
My father had visited Lahore. He had said that in March, Lahore had spring and it was full of flowers and butterflies. I loved flowers.
So I studied hard. The exams were over on Friday. In the evening of Friday, I begged my father to take me to Lahore. My mother did not want to go to Lahore. She said it was waste of money but I cried and cried. So my father agreed to take all of us to Lahore on Sunday.
We went by bus. We got to Lahore by the afternoon. I was so happy to be in Lahore. It was full of people, cars, shops, flowers and fun.
Our father took us to a park. We had ice cream and candies. For hours we played in the park while my parents talked, laughed and enjoyed seeing us playing together.
Then it was time to leave. I was so sad leaving the park but we had to get back home. As we were walking out, I needed to go to the wash room. So my parents and my siblings decided to wait for me at the gate while I quickly went to the wash room not far from the gate. As I was in the wash room, I heard a noise louder than any noise I had ever heard. I ran out of the wash room. .
I saw people running here and there. What had happened? I did not know. All I could see were children and women and men, crying, screaming, and lying in blood. There were legs and arms around me.
I ran and ran to the gate and when I got there, there was no one waiting for me. I ran around and found my father with no arms and maybe no life. My mother was lying unconscious without legs. I could not find my brother. I found his head somewhere but not him. My sister was lying in blood and mourning. I shook her, urged her to get up but she did not respond.
The police and ambulances came and took them and me to the hospital. My brother had died. The rest were dying but I praying and prayed for them to live but they did not live, all of them died.
If only I had not insisted on going to Lahore, they would have been alive. I cannot forgive myself, nor can I forgive the man who came with a bomb and took away all that I had. Why did he do this? Did he have no children? Did he have no parents?
Maybe he had no one like me, but if he had them, why did he leave them alone.
But it was not him who killed them; my dream of seeing the city of lights Lahore darkened my world.
I killed them!