My brother was angry at me right from birth.
My elders told me to help him and not hold anything back.
And I trusted the elders.
One fine day he hit me.
I gave him a minor rap.
I was cautious after that.
But twice after that he tried to bite me.
I slapped him in front of everyone.
One of those days he said he was sorry and told everyone this won't happen again.
And then he bled me.
I couldn't hit him because the elders were watching.
He bled me, I suffered in silence, but that was not happiness enough for him.
Then a day came when he said he bled like crazy.
And I told him, "brother our wounds are the same".
But he had grown up by then, and he shouted from rooftops I couldn't kill him.
I told him I never wanted to.
But he never would believe me.
Because he never wanted to believe.
For a new elder that spat fire had come to support him.
He still bleeds me some times.
But I forgive him, because I suspect he has cancer, and got not much to live.
I love you Pakistan.