This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 15; the fifteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.
I was staring at all the blood and broken shreds of glass. I have never seen so much blood all at once. Panic, nausea and fear gripped me. What was I supposed to do? Run haywire like everyone around me? Stay there? Cry? Break down? Faint? To this day I cannot recall why that moment I was taken to that memory. That particular day
The sounds of vendors and distinct chatter startled me. I’m someone who doesn’t usually sleep during journeys. But this was a particularly long one and I had nothing better to do. Rubbing my groggy eyes, I woke up to see that the train had stopped at some place which I couldn’t identify. Half heartedly accepting the job at a construction site in some village at Jharkand, which would break my seven month stint of joblessness and more than that the daily dosage of scornful looks from the people who were family. I wanted to go someplace far off and this gave the right cue.
After splashing my face with water from the water bottle I had bought at the previous station I took a look outside at the station. It seemed there was some problem with the tracks a few kilometers ahead and the train would not leave until that was attended to. It was a beautiful weather. The clouds were like a little kid with a premonition that he wouldn’t be bought the toy he wished for, ready to cry, waiting for the perfect moment.
There was no beautiful girl in my compartment like I was taught by the numerous movies I saw through the years. One fantasy that never came true. I looked around the station, being an architect myself I found it hard to identify the pattern of construction. Nevertheless the view was breathtaking, similar to the ones you see in postcards from foreign countries. Tired of looking around, I tried to go back to sleep.
I heard voices right outside my window. Three men, must be strangers, were introducing themselves. Strange how people make friends in journeys like this. I have never been able to. May be because I don’t open up much. They were fellow passengers and remained just the same. I couldn’t help but listen to their conversation.
“Thanks so much bhai, my wife would become so worried even if I return an hour late. Can’t blame her. My area is full of extremists and I am equally scared to travel alone after dark” said one man to the other probably thanking him for a phone call.
“Is it always like this here? I have to report at 10 am tomorrow. With this problem I don’t think I will be able to”
“It’s the Government”, the third man joined in. “They take villages for granted. They hesitate to spend money like they’re spending it from their own pockets. Corrupt scoundrels”
“Very true bhai, electricity,water, everything is scarce over there. We have been living there for generations. The world outside is so different from what we call our world “
“ I’m from the south. Going on deputation. Mom and dad were so worried when I said Jharkand. Naxal problems and all that. But a job is a job. Its not like I’m in the army or something” He laughed saying that.
“Young men. You don’t fear anything. The country needs more of your kind”
“My grandfather was in the army bhai, 30th infantry division. Shot to death in the sepoy mutiny. My whole family is proud to say that we are in his lineage”
“Nothing like fighting for the country. People downsouth are brought up being nurtured by stories of bravery and sacrifice. Its hard to be like that today. Honesty, patriotism all these have lost values”
“Terrorism plays upper hand. Its so sad to see things like that everyday on tv”
“I see things like that happening right in front of me once a week. Got used to it”
“Terrorists think they’re more patriotic. Sad part is that they kill in the name of religion while no religion preaches them to kill nor take up violence”
“God is watching everyone. I pray everyday to make people better by giving them brains to think. When’ll God open his eyes? Cannot see that happening anytime soon”
“There is Judgment for everyone. God waits at the Palace gates to decide who falls where. Those cruel beasts will rot in hell”
“Qayamat holds all answers bhai. It pains to see kids and women falling victims to these barbarians”
The whistle blew and the voices faded away as I drifted off to sleep.
The memory unfolded in front of me. I realized I was standing in the middle of a pile of rubble. Screaming mothers and weeping wives. People of all religion bathed in the same color devoid of all differences..
Least did I know what Shankar Iyer, Muhammed Haneef and Johnson would be thinking after watching this on tv the following afternoon.
Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai
Dekhna hai zor kitna baazu-e-qaatil mein hai
Aye watan, Karta nahin kyun doosree kuch baat-cheet
Dekhta hun main jise woh chup teri mehfil mein hai
Aye shaheed-e-mulk-o-millat main tere oopar nisaar
Ab teri himmat ka charcha gair ki mehfil mein hai
Sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai
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