JP's Description: I saw in an Indian magazine a news item on the recent assasination of Rajiv Ghandi. It was a time when the aftermath of an explosion would be treated by the news in the west with a photo of a mangled vehicle or a blasted building. The magazine instead concentrated on the gory victim's limbs and entrails mixed with the dry desert dust strewn on the ground where the explosion took place.
I was shocked by the images, the silence contained within them, the unexpected colour.
These days we are treated to atrocity in a much more familiar way, nothing shocks, we don't even question the clichéd paraphrase "suicide bomber", or go so far as to think what could motivate a young woman to sacrifice her life in such an action?
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