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Click hereThe Milkman
He comes around at six
A little after daybreak
Bringing
Life sustaining milk
Take your day's quota
And then
As he rides away
Take a shot at his back
Aim
Just this side below the left shoulder
Pierce his heart
The blood . . . cardinal
Life itself
Warm, pulsating with vitality
Will spurt, fountain out
The bike will careen a moment
And crash
The milk in the cans
Will flow, gushing out
Onto the tarmac
Mix with the blood
Luscious pink frothy milkshake
In the Karachi of February 1990
I was sickened at the headline...gunman.....kills.....8.....Karachi
1990-2004 Still you have this I know nothing of
There is a controlled anger in these words, an anger neither destructive nor violent, yet powerful enough to jolt one, to make one sit up and take notice of all the madnesses we have "become used to . . ."
Snipings, bombings, suicide attacks, sabotage, we've had them all here. The senselessness of it all is numbing, the susceptibility of people to fall into the terror trap is frightening, the result -- he shows it in a simple graphic manner. Hats off!
Milk and blood. Innocence and horror. For those of you who have known this: you know more than I.
. . . and at the same time beautifully simple in style and metaphor. Shows his deep anguish over needless bloodshed, his innate respect for life, his palpable abhorrence of violence. Karachi in 1990 was a vicious jungle, with sniping killings being reported daily. It elicited overwhelming response from Pakistan's literati, but this piece by Odeee surpasses everything I've seen written about those horrifying days.