I haunt every night for a dream worth dreaming and a life worth living. Every night, before going to a deep sleep, something haunts me and makes me awake very late. That maybe a lost opportunity or some broken dreams.
Back in 2018 when I completed my intermediate, it was the phase where I had to decide the further journey of my life by choosing my field. From becoming a doctor to an astronaut, a teacher to a pilot, a dream of appearing in CSS examination to doing something extraordinary; different thoughts were shuffling in my mind. These all were the wishes which tackled my mind since childhood.
I asked my heart; what do I want to be? And every time the answer I received was to be a writer. I was in love with writing – rather I’m in love with writing. The tranquility and peace I get through writing, no other sources can provide. I want to be a journalist. But whether you call it fate or bad luck, my family did not allow me to choose journalism as a profession.
Back then, I couldn’t figure out the reason behind not letting me, but today when everyday I hear the news of killing and disappearing of journalists, everything is getting visible in front of my eyes. Slowly and definitely, I’m able to grasp that this could possibly be a reason. Today I’m away from my dreams. Back in past, the only answer I got was “but my dear, you are too young and the life is too long.”
However, journalists are people who give us information about current situations, current government or what is going on in this world through newspapers, magazine broadcast and news channels. According to United Nations Organization, “Journalism is one of the most dangerous professions in the world.”
No doubt, journalists are continuously exploring the world and showing us the ugly face of our society. Surprisingly, in 2019 only, 49 journalists were murdered which, shockingly, was the lowest death ratio in last 16 years. In past decade, around 554 journalists were killed just because of covering the truth. The range may vary because numerous deaths go unreported.
Being a journalist is not an easy job. Sometimes they’re abused, sometimes threatened, and even sometimes physically assaulted. They risk their own lives in order to be the voice of us and show the ugly side of the picture to the world. To sum up, every time when I write, I feel the writer within me is still alive. I might have left writing but writing has yet not left me.
