Earlier this day, after eating my sahur meal, I scrolled down my Twitter timeline. It was all safe and sound until a guy on my following list RTed a tweet linked with a video with a caption: The moment of the attack at the Istanbul airport. Horrific.
Dang. Istanbul Ataturk Airport.
The fact that I had just been there less-than-a-week ago left me speechless.
I still remember it well, I was in transit through the airport with four friends of mine, returning to Jakarta after the Germany trip. I remember it too well, the ambiance in the middle of the night. People were all rushing, yet I was able to sense the state of peace. All of us were tired, wanted to be back to where we actually belong and to meet our dearest ones. Weary, we counted the hours needed to be spent on board, the hours needed to be, finally, home.
41 killed, 200 wounded.
What gets on my nerves is the fact that those insignificant craps did all the chaos because they believed that after doing so God would place them into a very special place they called as Heaven. Bullshit. How could someone be so senseless, heartless?
I might be not the holiest but I understand that if you really worship your God, you should’ve done good deeds during Ramadan instead of terrorizing people with suicidal bomb in the middle of hustle-bustle airport. I don’t know how their brains (if they ever had ones) work, but, really, you think that after you’ve done the suicidal bomb, your God will send you straight to heaven? You stupid, selfish pricks, have been successfully brain-washed by another stupid, selfish pricks.
Nonetheless, this news makes my mind wanders to an evening where the fifteen of us argued about which airlines we’d use for this trip. I little bit disagreed to choose Turk*sh due to the bombing that was happening in Istanbul at the moment (and my dad said so), but since most of them voted for Turk*sh, then Turk*sh it was.
On April 11, while the group chat became more fucked up than ever, with teary eyes, I wrote my complaint on my phone notes:
I am a true believer of fate. I believe that years ago, when my leaf was still green and fresh, God had already set the time I’d die. Be it desirable or not, I had nothing to do to change what’s been written up there.
Indeed, we, human, were born to die. We could never control the time, place, and/or the way we die. We have no power to do so because God had had it planned. So, when the day my lungs no longer be able to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide has come, all I could and would do is accepting the fate.
To be honest, I once wished to God to make me die first (be careful what you wish for, little kid) because I did not think I’d survive life without the presence of mama and papa; to have to continue my life without their guide, I’d be lost in the deepest, darkest abyss of life. But, if I had to die first because I was doing something against my dad’s will, I would be the saddest person (sadly, obviously no longer) alive.
To die because of terrorism or suicidal bombing is not something imaginable. They say, Chill, it’s out of control. Whatever will be, will be. Here’s a thing, my dad already advised me not to take that flight because the transit area was not safe at the moment, it’d be better to find another flight with different route. But since you guys push your own will, I have to take this route.
If later I die in Turkey’s int’l airport during this trip due to the act of terrorism, I’d die sadly imagining how many liters of tears both my parents produced on my funeral day, and the days after, or the sorrow my dad would feel that he actually had the power to stop me from taking that flight but he let me anyway.
This is sad.
I’m totally pissed off.
God, I wonder, the victims of this attack, is there any of them who feels the same way?