*That day!* Today, I sit here in the evening of my life, I recall the days of carnage and bloodbath. It was the year of 1947. A wall was created between two sisters, a wall which never decayed. I stood at the station silently, squinting my eyes and grasping the scenes of aura of annihilation and havoc. There was a rush, a rush for survival. I felt heavy and burdened that day. Not with the multitude of people ‘resting’ inside me, but with the emotions of fear and dismalness that pervaded the station. The station was reeking of human blood. It made me feel nauseous.The loud cries of the helpless humans kept hammering my ears. At that moment, I wished I was deaf. I could see dead bodies lying unclaimed, pleading for the final rituals. I marked the terror on a childs face, a child who was left behind, alone. What would happen to her? Who would look after her? Innumerable questions jammed my mind making it difficult for me to curb back my emotions. Will she survive? I asked myself, sinking deep into gloom. These life-shatterers wont let her breathe freely once they notice her, I heard myself answer. I felt the driver start the engine, it was time to leave. I faced difficulty in pulling myself to run on the tracks., I was overloaded. It took me a few moments before I gained speed. I could feel stones being pelted at my body. The foul abusive words faded away slowly, the cries and shrieks changed to brooding silence as I moved away from the station into the eerie wilderness outside the cantonment town. It was Rohri, Pakistan, where I stopped. Some people came inside and clubbed thirteen Sikhs to death, right then and there. Drops of invisible tears raced down my face, moistening my face. I couldnt wipe them, I was helpless, helpless in every sense. That day, I pitied myself for being a non-living creature. If only the Almighty had bestowed me with life. If only. I am the train that has witnessed humans turning into devils. Ive noticed the absence of humanity in their eyes; Ive seen them infused with rage and revenge. It was strange how the Sikhs blamed the Muslims and the Muslims blamed the Sikhs. When in reality, both were equally responsible for the gruesome events on that fateful day and in the following weeks. That day, the silent wails of humanity went unheard. That day, humanity lay mauled in a corner, breathing its last. Have things changed, I wonder. The carnage of 1947 is replaced by another kind of inhumanness. The inhumanness of corruption, and loot and plunder. Here I am, living out my last few days in the scrap yard in a cantonment station near the border. I can only wish both countries the best! Countries that I served by ferrying countless people back and forth. Mostly successfully, but sometimes not so successfully as in the incident I have narrated above. Alvida! ~Kiara
Posted on: Sun, 27 Jul 2014 14:00:01 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015