Who was responsible?

Episode 3

It was my third day at that police station; it was the third day since Gujrat was burning. It was the third day since Pratiksha was missing.

I was hopping from one police station to other to find any evidence of hers.

Of the 60 bodies found inside the train, 12 were so badly burnt that they could not be recognized. My parents and I just hoped that some miracle must have happened and Pratiksha would have got out of the train on time. On the 4^th day an inspector called me up, he had found Pratiksha’s body.

The streets of Ahmedabad wore a deserted look. People came out of their houses only for purchasing things of daily needs, that too in the early morning hours, before sunrise. Both Hindus and Muslims were on a killing spree. Dead bodies lay on the road unnoticed. As I reached the Old City police station, I saw many dead bodies thrown in the courtyard like the unused furniture. Flies and mosquitoes were all over it

There were many families crying over the dead bodies of their son, daughter, husband, father, or even their baby. Their loud voices shook me from my center of gravity. I felt a vibration inside.

I started moving into the courtyard and as I passed through the dead bodies my senses began going off. The voices of ladies crying slowly began to fade out off my ears. I felt weightless. Tears rolled out of my eyes. My hands got wet. I saw a small baby burnt to black. A lady with her clothes torn, exposing her private parts with scratches all over her body as if a wild animal had pounced upon her. While she lay there, her four small children tried to make their mother wake up. There was a body with no head over it, he wore a “Hare Ram, Hare Krishna” kurta. There were all kinds of bodies-men, women, burnt, stabbed, with head, headless, completely bathe in blood, one of the male’s dead body had its penis cut out. There were Hindu families and there were Muslim families crying over the dead body and then there was the body of Pratiksha. Her face was bruised and her clothes torn.

Seeing her dead body did not move me much, may be because the shock of seeing the earlier dead bodies, was yet to go down my throat. Not even a drop of tear fell from my eyes seeing my own sister seeing in that condition. I messaged my father. He didn’t reply.

I went to the inspector and asked him politely ‘Where was my sister found?’

‘Harish chai levi ne aao ’ he shouted at hawaldar instead of answering to my question.

Then he looked at me and said, ‘Take this body as fast as possible, it stinks!’

‘How will I take it now? I don’t have any vehicle with me. I will come tomorrow with my uncle and take it’ I said it in a low voice, that could be hardly audible.

I started moving towards the door when the inspector stopped me by blocking my way. He stared at me with a wicked smile. I didn’t know what it mean. I changed my path. He again came in my way. With his eyes, he asked me to look down. He was rubbing his right thumb with his index finger. He wanted his remuneration.

I took out my wallet from the back pocket of my denims. He snatched it from me and he took out all the money inside. Then he opened the coin pocket of my wallet, he didn’t even spared the coins. He saw the photograph of Aaliya in my wallet and gave the same wicked smile to me. He returned me my wallet and went back to his table. His tea had arrived. He sat on the chair, with his legs resting on the table.

As I walked on the lonely streets of the Ahmedabad the images of the dead bodies flashed in front of me again and again. My senses weren’t working and even the tears had frozen now.

Suddenly I heard a noise of small children playing. I looked around there was no one around. Then towards the left, I noticed a tin gate slightly open. I could see some movement inside. I went closer and peeped through the opening. 4-5 children were playing. A minute later a lady in burqa came and slapped two of them who were making maximum noise. She noticed the tin gate was slightly open. She came and closed it properly. There was no more sound after that.

I began walking towards my home again. I had barely walked some hundred meters when I saw three scooters carrying three men each, each of them carrying a shinning silver sword and wearing a piece of orange cloth around their neck. They charged on me.

‘I am a Hindu’ I objected and tried to defend myself against their swords.

But they still continued to attempt an attack on me.

‘Believe me I am a Hindu…. See…. See…. I am a Hindu’. I removed my jeans and the underwear beneath it before their swords could tear me apart. My presence of mind worked in my favor. My act helped cool down their temper. They left me.

‘Go back home or else these mother fuckers won’t spare you’ said one of them.

I lay on the middle of the road half naked and wept. Everything was so good just a week back. I was so excited to meet my sister after one whole year. Now everything had changed. My sister was dead; my parents in Delhi were in shock and Aaliya…. I didn’t even know where she was? It had been 3 days since her phone was switched off. I knew where she resided in Ahmedabad but I couldn’t go to her house. I kept crying. All of a sudden images of Pratiksha started coming in front of my eyes. I began visualizing what must have happened to her– the burning train, she trying to find a safe place, she running away from the Muslim mob, some Muslim men catching her, misbehaving with her, beating her as she resisted…. My blood started boiling. There was a sense of revenge that began crowding my mind.

‘Listen! I know some Muslims hiding in this area’ I shouted at the same group of men, who came in the scooters with swords. They were now smoking beedi at some distance. One of them came close to me and bent forward on me while I still lay on the ground.

‘Where are those Pakistanis?’ he appeared as a hungry animal which has found it’s pray.

‘Behind that tin gate.’

*******

Next morning I was sitting with Mr. Patel and was watching an English news channel. Mr. Patel was my PG owner’s brother. I was staying with him from the past 4 day in Ahmedabad.

25 MUSLIMS DIED IN THE OLD CITY AREA, 15 CHILDRENS AMONGST THEM

This was the news on every news channel. 25 Muslims- 15 children, 5 women, and 5 men were all slaughtered to death. They repeatedly showed the same tin gate and the dead bodies (censored) that were lying in the same court yard where the small children were playing yesterday.

This incident started a new wave in the riots. For Muslims, they were hurt and lowered their spirits. While for the Hindu fanatics this was the booster. They got an upper hand in this one-on-one competition with Muslims. They now searched every door and window to remove every trace of Muslim blood. They were like mad dogs.

One day later came the news that shattered my world forever. They had put Zehra Manzil– a seven floor apartment, in the Thaltaj area of Ahmedabad that housed 14 upper class Muslim families-on fire. And they did it at 1 in the night while everyone was sleeping. Aaliya and her family stayed on the 3^rd floor of that building.

It is a common knowledge amongst the people that this incident was only a repel affect of the incident at the Old City area that gave so much muscles to Hindus, that they put an entire apartment, in the heart of Ahmedabad city, on fire.

But who was actually responsible for the deaths of so many people in Gujrat? My life revolves around “what ifs“ these day. What if I had not told those men that some Muslims were hiding there? What if I had not insisted my mother to send Pratiksha to Ahmedabad? I often blame myself for this entire episode. Was I responsible for the deaths of so many people in Gujrat?

People died from both side-Hindus and Muslims. It was a fault of both of them. It’s the hatred that took the lives of so many people. I too became a victim of that hatred. I still have that last message that Aaliya sent me where she wrote ‘Riots hv broken out btw muslims n non-muslims’. She never mentioned my religion’s name-Hindus. Rather she chose to tag her religion’s name with this negative event. She didn’t want to hurt me and our beautiful relationship of love. But I returned the favor with hatred.

There was an eye for an eye every time. Hindus abducted a Muslim woman. Muslims set the train on fire and killed so many children and women. Hindus burnt the mosque. Muslims killed some more Hindus. Hindus reiterated back…. It will always go on like that. Someone has to put a full stop. Someone has to forget and forgive. Someone has to take the initiative of peace. Or else on the land of Mahatma, this hunger of revenge will never end. And this can be done by the initiative of every individual and his/her respective religion. Because religion is both the cause of the problem and the solution.

As for me, I know lord only gives a person a burden he is strong enough to handle and the burden must fall somewhere in this world and when they fall on you it is not just a test but a symbol that life knows that you have the strength to endure them.