A door unlocked.. a message unparalleled

   For a baby, anything outside their field of vision ceases to exist, until they develop the concept of what’s known as object permanence; at which point they start to become aware that the object still exists out of their sight, and they start to look for it. Our oblivion to the terminal potential of all aspects of our life is not unlike a baby’s belief that what they see is all that exists. We’re often blinded by the impression that all that we have lasts. It’s only when one is deprived of something they never thought they would lose, that they begin to see through this illusion. In my case the cost of this realisation was the life of my teacher.
   Although I often forget that myself, there had been a time when I absolutely hated maths. I wasn’t necessarily bad at it; I just didn’t like it. Up until the second term of fifth grade, that was the case. At the start of the second term a new teacher took over our maths classes. It shouldn’t have made much of a difference; but I’m here applying to an engineering course right now, so it must’ve. He was no magician; I didn’t fall in love with the subject overnight, but he was a good teacher. He showed me an insight to maths that no one had before. The subject was no longer a set of rules that I have to abide by and follow to reach the desired result; it was instead a new dimension of logic that I learnt to develop. He never shamed me for hating the subject, but never gave me a reason to hate it either. I went from grimacing at the idea of maths lessons to actually looking forward to them, and, against my will, there was a part of me that had started to appreciate the subject and genuinely enjoy it. My interest in the subject then grew year after year, as I started to explore more complex aspects of it. The more challenging it got, the more I fell in love with it. It turned out that it only took one right person to unlock the door, to leave it slightly ajar, just enough to lure me inside. For, upon entry, one can't help but tumble head first into the world of maths. In my case Mr. Mohammad Fouad had been the one to unlock that door for me.  
   The school year came to an end, and soon after, I moved out of the country. I had been preparing myself and coming to accept the fact that moving to another country would ultimately mean that there were people whom I would never see again. However, we comfort ourselves with the thoughts that since what separated us was decision, what would bring us back together would also be a decision. So technically, I was a potential decision away from meeting everyone I wanted to see. 
The situation becomes different, though, when you no longer have the potential to make that decision. You never consider that maybe, one day you will be denied the right to make that decision, that one day what separates you from those you care for would be so far out of your control. I might’ve long ago accepted the fact the I would probably never see Mr. Mohammad Fouad again, just like I’m unlikely to ever see any of my other primary teachers, but always with the lingering promise that I could and I would if I really wanted to.
   A bullet to the head was not what Mr. Mohammad Fouad deserved. Nor was it what any of those killed in the same square deserved. He was denied his right to live, his wife widowed and his then-three-year-old son orphaned, for something so simple yet so lethal as to cost him his life. He was killed because he dared to speak his mind in a country that casts that as a crime. He was killed by armed police forces in an armless protest. 
  It wasn’t just his life that left behind an impact, his death was a message too, a message that no words can deliver. It’s a reminder to hold our grounds firm against corruption and injustice, that no sacrifice is too much for our country. It's a reminder for us to step back and appreciate what we have, for it will not last. It's a reminder of how short life is and how important it is to fulfill our role in it and commemorate our stay with the impacts we leave in people's lives.

اللَّهُمَّ، اغْفِرْ له وَارْحَمْهُ، وَاعْفُ عنْه وَعَافِهِ، وَأَكْرِمْ نُزُلَهُ، وَوَسِّعْ مُدْخَلَهُ، وَاغْسِلْهُ بمَاءٍ وَثَلْجٍ وَبَرَدٍ، وَنَقِّهِ مِنَ الخَطَايَا كما يُنَقَّى الثَّوْبُ الأبْيَضُ مِنَ الدَّنَسِ، وَأَبْدِلْهُ دَارًا خَيْرًا مِن دَارِهِ، وَأَهْلًا خَيْرًا مِن أَهْلِهِ، وَزَوْجًا خَيْرًا مِن زَوْجِهِ، وَقِهِ فِتْنَةَ القَبْرِ وَعَذَابَ النَّارِ