I
reached the location when there were about thirty minutes still left in the
scheduled time. Shaukat (name changed), our group leader and my partner for
that location, reached the designated tea–stall for the show from another direction. Upon reaching the stall, he handed a
bag, that usually contained packets of tea, to the person running the
tea–stall, but, which contained something different that day; a new kind of
package. He placed the package towards a side of the stall. The stall owner, a
friend, handed a cup of tea each to Shaukat and me and motioned to us to sit
down and wait for the time when we were to justify our love for our people and
our cause.
There
were more than twenty customers at his stall and almost the same number at an
eatery stall a few feet away. And, between us, a multitude of our “customers” was flowing back and forth
with their shopping bags.
It
was 18.00 hours on that colder–than–usual Saturday evening in Delhi. Shaukat
gave me a signal, which meant that just twenty minutes remained. He picked up a
bag with actual tea bags and started to move away from the stall while our
friend, the stall–owner, picked up a kettle of freshly cooked tea and a few tea
glasses and moved in the opposite direction. The package had been perfectly
placed to cause maximum damage. I don't know why but something was stirring
inside me. For some strange reason, my hand wanted to reach out, grab the
package and run away. Shaukat's voice and a tap on my shoulder by him somehow
jolted me out of my trance and drove away those feelings of.... I don't even
know how to describe those feelings in my mind and my......... Heart.
***************
We
just glanced back to take a last look when we noticed a man picking up that shopping
bag, the one that contained our package wrapped in black polythene, and walk
away with it in the opposite direction, towards Ghaffar Market. Karol Bagh,
like any other shopping area in Delhi, can have thieves walk away with people's
stuff unnoticed. Since the bag was lying near our stall that had several
customers sitting around, the thief might have assumed that it belonged to
someone there and just picked it up and walked away.
We
were stunned for a second as we had not expected it to go that way. We started
following him quickly but did not run or shout as we did not want to bring
anyone's notice towards us or that bag. We were following him as fast as we
could but even he was walking as fast as possible, probably to get away from
the area as soon as he could.
After
going about fifty metres, he glanced back, probably to check if someone was
following him or not. I am quite sure he saw us moving towards him as he picked
up pace and glanced back after every couple of seconds. On the first two or
three occasions, the glance was as if he was scanning, but, then, he started
looking at us directly. Then, after a couple of minutes, he probably thought it
wise to give up and left the bag on the road near an Autorickshaw (a three-wheeled public transport vehicle
common in India) parked there and almost ran away. We went up to the bag to
pick it up but when I was just about a few metres from the bag, Shaukat grabbed
me from the shoulder to stop me. When I glanced back, I saw him looking at his
watch. I immediately looked at my watch and guessed the reason for the same. It
was already 18.10 and just ten minutes remained. There was no way we could pick
it up and replace it at the stall in time and move away quickly without raising
suspicion. We took a look around and saw that even though there were lesser
people at that location, the number was still substantial. We decided to leave
it there and get away.
***************
But,
the feelings that I had been carrying since the morning were not for nothing.
The bomb went off earlier than scheduled. We had gone just about two or three
metres when it happened. The two of us were caught in the explosion. I knew it
there and then that I was destined to die, to be killed by it. I had to
explode that day.
The
force of the blast hurled me a long way. I hit a pole with the side of my head
first, rebounded to the left, and, then, landed on the ground on my back with a
resounding thud.
***************
I
know that I am going to hear that thud
for the rest of my dead life. It seems that it wasn't a bomb that we had kept
at the stall that had exploded. What I had kept there, closely wrapped up
inside that package, was my life. And, it had exploded. My life had been
shredded to pieces and I could see those pieces flying away, slowly but surely,
in all directions.
***************
Akbar’s
friend, the one narrating the story to me, then, said,
“Akbar
was hurt badly in that blast, but, he did not die. He was taken to be a blast
victim along with scores of other victims of that blast and was sent to a
hospital. However, by the time they reached the hospital with him, he had
passed into a coma and stayed in that comatose state for a few days. I would
give exact details of his time in the hospital later. Right now, he wanted me
to describe something that happened to him while he was in that state of
stillness. He wanted me to describe in exactly the same words as his own, as a
feeling that runs over him every time he thinks about it. It is something that does
not go away with the past. It has stuck to him and he can feel it happening to him
again whenever he shares it. Therefore, please bear with me as I explain it to
you as if it is happening to him right now.”
He,
further, explained that sometimes, it has been observed that some comatose
patients were able to hear and feel everything that happened around them while
they were in that state. They could not react to anything but were able to remember
whatever was said around them and could even describe some of their dreams
quite vividly. It was the same case with Akbar. He had some experiences during
those days that he wanted to share with the world through his book.
With
that, Akbar closed his eyes and went quiet for a few minutes. I kept looking at
him intently, waiting for him to speak. A part of my mind wanted me to break
the silence and ask him to speak but my heart and the rest of my mind kept me
from doing so. I could sense the intensity of emotions in that stillness on his
face and I thought it better to wait.
After
about ten minutes, which seemed to stretch for almost an hour, he started
speaking.
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