"What are bomb blasts? Mummy?" asked my daughter Mishti. I stopped cleaning the platform. I was in kitchen wrapping up after dinner work and thinking of what to cook for tomorrow’s breakfast. "Why? Mishti, are you asking this question?" "Mummy there is a breaking news on television - 'Blasts in Jaipur'.” I left the dirty vessels in the sink and ran to see the news. Pictures of dazed people bleeding profusely, dead bodies, severed limbs, damaged cars, mangled rickshaws were being flashed on television.  People were telling reporters what they saw. We could hear ambulance sirens in the background. The pink city had turned red. My eyes couldn't believe that the pictures flashing were of Johri Bazaar.  I remembered last year when we had gone to attend a wedding in Jaipur. We had just an hour to shop around. I had coaxed my husband to take me to Johri Bazaar. It was dynamic, full of life, people buying trinkets, semi-precious stones. I had picked up some enamel jewelry from there. Now it was a scene of devastation "Change the channel", I ordered Mishti as Vish (my son) started crying on seeing the disturbing pictures. As I was consoling my son and searching for some cartoon program to divert his attention, I was thinking how to answer her question. "Should I brush it aside, divert the topic or answer it. How much can I tell my 9 year old daughter? Should I tell her that life is not a bed of roses? Am I robbing her of innocence? I saw my husband taking opportunity and changing to T20 match. He was mumbling whether ‘Kolkata Knight Riders’ would win this match or not. I felt shaken, how used to we have became to such news. Every now and then we hear about terrorists striking somewhere, local trains of Mumbai, militants in Srinagar, 9/11 tragedy of USA, assassination of Benazir Bhutto in Pakistan, terrorists attack in Israel, in Iraq. No part in world seems to be safe. Have we got so used to terror that it is reduced to being breaking news in news channels, discussing it next day and then going on with our life. Are we being like ostrich hiding our head, thinking that this terrorism would pass away?! I decided, taking a deep breath I said, "Mishti bomb blasts are explosion of bombs" "Just like the bombs which we burst in Diwali," Mishti cut me, "they make noise but don't hurt anyone if they are burst properly". "Beta these are bigger bombs. They cause destruction, devastation. We just saw how much damage they cause, lot of people are injured, lot of people loose their life, lot of women become widows, children lose their parents, parents loose their children. It all depends on where the bomb exploded." “Yeah I saw flash on the news, Death toll rising to 80” "But mummy who puts them and why" asked Mishti. "Terrorists put them to scare people, to show government that they can strike anytime, anywhere. These are means to intimidate or coerce government and make government listen to them". "What do these terrorists want?" she fired another question. "Militants in Kashmir want freedom. Terror attack in USA was by Osama Bin Laden to ask USA.  He felt that United Stated had been occupying the holy places of Islam, plundering riches, humiliating people and fighting against Muslim. So he urged all the Muslims to kill Americans all in the name of God”. “Mummy, can’t government do anything?” “I think the government is doing everything. On security, intelligence agencies, surveillance huge amount of money is being spent.” “Then why is it not translating into some action? Why are we always caught unguarded? “Mummy, I was wondering how does a terrorist look, does he look like the bad man in the cartoons & movies?”  “No he does not look any different? He looks just like you and me. But they feel that they have been deprived and can go to any length, to the extent of killing themselves too. They become “live bomb” and laden with explosives they detonate themselves in pursuit of their barbaric goals. "Mummy, terrorists are everywhere?” asked Mishti innocently. “Yes dear, no place in the world is safe, they can strike anytime anywhere” I replied.  “Can they strike in Bangalore? Can we die in bomb blast?” asked my daughter innocently.  I was quiet, didn’t know what to say.  “Yahoo Kolkata has won!!” my husband screamed.  Vish and Mishti joined him in his dance, “jeetbo karbo” along with Shahrukh on television.  Any another day, I would have enjoyed and maybe joined but today somehow I felt uneasy. I couldn’t stay there and went to the room to finish the work. I was thinking “Have we become selfish or we are unconcerned about what does not affect us? After putting my children to sleep, (they were too tired to listen to bedtime story) I went to the balcony. As I was looking blankly at the sky, I heard, “Don’t worry son, this is only a minor cut, blood will stop. Don’t panic. We shall take you home and put bandage. My brave son! ”. It was Mrs Ghelani talking to her 6 year old son who had fallen while trying to jump. She picked him up and carried him.  “What about the mother who would have lost her son in the blast today?”, I shivered at the thought. “What would she be feeling or would she be feeling at all?” I wondered. “What was the fault of the son or other people who were at Johri Bazaar or Hanuman Mandir at that time? Was it in their destiny to die like this? What about the child who lost his parent? Or about the wife who by the callous act of some unknown terrorist has lost her husband? What about the shop keepers who have been there for many years earning their livelihood? Why do bad things happen to good people? Why God who is omnipotent couldn’t stop such heinous activity? Why God who is benevolent would allow his children to suffer? Why is government not doing enough? Why is terror not abating Why Why? I was reminded of the lines that I had read somewhere. Terrorism has no father, Its mother is cruelty Terrorism is thirsty, So it drinks human-blood Terrorism is hungry, So it eats pieces of human flesh Terrorism may know its devilry, If it can see itself in a mirror! The hurricane of terrorism, tries to destroy  The lamp of faith Have you any hand  To resist its force? Our children are growing up hearing such news every day. Children all over the world are living through conflicts, in Iraq, in America, in Kashmir. Will they not grow up confused? Will they be able to trust anyone? Isn’t this violence chipping away the innocence of kids bit by bit.  I want a society without orphans, widows. A life free from conflict. Is it a dream? “Thank God, it was not me or my family?” I muttered, “This time”. I felt weak, just sat down on the balcony. Where do I take my children so that they could be safe?  Where they could live in peace and not in the shadow of terror? Poem of terrorism: http://www.indianpoetry.org/non violancectd.htm