In life, their mother tongues might had been different, in death, they do not speak any language anymore- woe to the sudden senseless violence that keeps on snuffing the life out of innocent people any where, particularly in the part of the world we inhabit. Perhaps nowhere else there are such ruthless lingual an ethnic barriers than here despite the fact that every language is beautiful and every human being first and foremost a human being and than anything else. But the senseless violence that broke early December last year and on the last days of the April this year resulted in killings of dozens of innocent people only because they happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

All the victims of the violent sprees under discussion belonged to poor and marginalized segments of the society. All the incidents of violence during which these innocent people were killed took place in poor areas of the city. The violence that killed dozens of people in the city did not much effect the rich and affluent areas of the city for which the incidents remained more an inconvenience than anything else. Funerals of all the victims were lifted and wailings of their poor old parents, brothers, sisters, friends and acquaintances were heard only in the poor localities of the city. As rich and affluent worried for their safety the number of victims, all poor, kept rising.

The poor people who lost lives in the senseless mayhem may have been the only hope of their old parents, or only aged widowed mothers perhaps, who must have been looking forward to let them share the burdens that this inhumane and exploitive society throws to its people day-in-and-day-out. The eyes of the brothers and sisters, friends and acquaintances of the victims may still be brimming with grief and sorrow of their sudden violent deaths.

They might had been returning to their katcha or dilapidated houses after long hours of back-breaking manual work looking ahead to cuddle their children, assist their elderly parents, sharing a word or two with their wives, watch a favourite TV show or programme, a small chat with a friend or may be group of friends before energizing themselves going to sleep to energize themselves for another day of back-breaking work. An "another day" that will never dawn for them anymore. In life they might had looked different but in death they all look so much alike- the same namaz-e-janaza (funeral prayer), the same white coffins, the same grieving parents, relatives and acquaintances, the same hole in the ground, the same religious rituals. And yet with all these similarities they were not killed by an invading army or a foreign occupational force but by the people with whom they shared the same religion, land, city and among whom they walked without any fear until killed suddenly and violently for no apparent reason at all.

These lines are written in memoriam of dozens of people killed and over 50 that were injured, many of them critically, in sporadic spree of violence in that erupted early December last year, end April this year and ones that keep on erupting every now and than suddenly. It also sympathizes with all those whose properties were damaged and whose honour was disgraced during the violence. Fear, tension and uncertainty keep on stalking the street to take immense economic toll in loss productivity as well as dampening all social, cultural, trading, business and commercial activities in the economic hub of the country. Karachi keeps on wearing deserted look every so often after repetition of senseless inhumane violence as people have developed the habit of shutting themselves indoors voluntarily for fear of safety and well being.

The worst hit of the sudden violence spree are the poor, particularly the daily-wage labourers who have to go hungry for days every time violence erupts in the city.
Death is said to be the ultimate equalizer but this axiom, like so many others, no more stands true for us anymore. Almost all the dead and the injured belonged to the poor and marginalized segments of the society. The affluent areas of the city had remained immune to the senseless violence.

We have developed a nefarious habit of doing to ourselves what our worst enemy could not do to us. May Allah save us from ourselves- our own worst enemy.