The monster that killed humanity!
The frenzied crowd poured into the main street from the different by-lanes with blood curdling slogans of Jai Maharastra! Har Har Mahadev! The residents of Charkop colony were dumb stuck, caught unawares by the onslaught of such hostile behaviour. No one could fathom this ugly turn of events.
Shazia stayed with her husband, Avinash on the fourth floor of Hidayat Manzil. They had eloped & got married much against their parent’s will since they belonged to different religions. It had been a tumultuous year with trying to humour sorrowful parents, struggling to survive without any support from either of their families. A few close friends had helped them solemnize the nuptials but other than that, both had precious little as support.
It was the month after Ramadan when Shazia missed her periods. A visit to the gynaecologist a couple of weeks later confirmed the good news. Even the dysphoric parents came around on hearing of the pregnancy & made efforts to patch things up between them.
It was 6th of Jan, 1993. Being jumma most of the muslims had congregated to offer prayers at their respective mosques. Trouble had been brewing for sometime since the Babri Masjid demolition & sporadic incidents of rioting had been reported. But Mumbai was known for its religious harmony & tolerance in such matters.
The parishad had been plotting this for a while now after the retaliation they had received in various parts of the country by the enraged lot. Systematic attacks in all areas where the minorities lived had been planned with deft expertise by the saffron clad. The message this time would be loud n clear.
Rishi the 5 year ole bundle of mischief ran to Shazia aunty’s house the moment he opened his eyes each morning. This was like any other mornings for Rishi & as Shazia aunty prepared tea to soak the musk in for him to eat, he peeped from the parapet of the small balcony in glee. It was time for some festival again he thought.
A bewildered Shazia looked out as well & hearing the blood curdling death calls quickly closed the balcony door trembling in fear. She felt a dull pain in the pit of her stomach at the fear of being alone at home. The apprehension of Avinash’s well-being gnawed at her with each war cry!
It all happened so fast it took everyone living in Hidayat Manzil by surprise. A crowd of 30 odd rioters barged into the building breaking doors claiming lives with demonic frenzy thwarting all attempts of escape.
Shazia’s door collapsed with the efficacy of brute force. She hid Rishi under a pile of clothes in the far corner of the room. As the men raged in, she cried in desperation to spare her and her unborn child but her pitiful wailings drowned in the barbarian cries of the cruelly rapacious lot. The hands thirstily approached her from all around ripping, tugging, pining her down.
Her cries for mercy was answered with savage cruelty as they ravaged her one by one. Each thrust of human insult made her cry out loud for her ammi jaan. That was enough for the blood thirsty gang to inflict more violence.
Rishi trembled like a frightened leaf below the heap of clothes. He couldn’t bare to see his beloved aunty being tortured by strangers. He saw them carving her flesh with their knives & by the time they left her for dead, he had lost his voice in a state of shock. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t call out to his aunty to ascertain if she was still alive.
Shazia was in a delirious state slipping in & out of consciousness. Her insides hurt beyond comprehension. The vagina that had gasped with pleasure at the touch of a loved one was wailing, trying to comprise its fault. The heartbeat of the unborn that had started to beat relentlessly had been abridged abruptly.
Hearing her moan in pain made Rishi bolt in search of his family to bring help. No one was around as he looked desperately for his family. As he looked for his mother, he came across Raju dada his nineteen yr ole cousin brother who had hid in the loft. Sensing urgency in Rishi’s frantic gestures he followed him & was shocked to see a bloodied Shazia lying naked with her left breast cut open.
Wrapping Shazia in a bed sheet, Raju lifted the shallowly breathing Shazia & broke into a trot jumping stairs to reach medical help as soon as possible. The rioters were everywhere on the streets. He would not be able to pass through the milling crowd that had lost all sense of modesty.
It was then that Rishi did something that pronounced loss of innocence in this crazy genocide dance. He ran up to a corpse that had a shawl with the hindu god names wrapped around its neck. He unwound the shawl & ran to Raju wrapping the same around his thin body. Raju n Rishi plodded through the thick stupor of insanity in an attempt to reach the ESIC hospital that was close by.
In the meantime, Avinash had been in a daze. The diamond-polishing workshop where he worked as a supervisor was in a Muslim dominated area. Everywhere he looked, he could see smoke snaking its way towards the morbid sky, flames licking away at every possible flammable unit in the gully. Men shouting Allah-O-Akbar & other jihadi war calls, that combusted the atmosphere to nervous proportions.
The workshop owners’ wife, Imrana hid Avinash in their quarters & asked him to emerge only at sun down. When Avinash finally came out of his concealment he stealthily headed straight towards his home fearing the worst. On seeing his building blackened with smoke n flames, he rushed to the near by hospitals looking for his beloved Shazia. He searched in the casualty wards of the three hospitals near by. Not finding his wife, crestfallen he started looking for her in the mortuaries. And then he met Ravi who related the horrific incident of the day & guided him to a limp Shazia fighting for life between precious gasps of erratic breath. Avinash wept like a child looking at his beautiful wife tattered & torn, struggling for survival.
Ravi & Rishi went looking for Rishi’s mother Arti. His father had died just last year succumbing to alcoholism. Arti made ends meet by working as a nanny to a rich mans twins. The growing mob violence had made her nervous about the two boys at home & she had set out for home despite the ensuing violence.
Being a widow, she dressed in light coloured sarees, her forehead devoid of the conventional bindi, that every married hindu women adorned. As she picked her way hiding in the by lanes between buildings, she was cornered by a group who erroneously classified her as a muslim, bathed her with gasoline & burnt her alive a few meters away from her building. As Rishi stood dumb stuck a neighbour pacified the boys. He was struggling to grasp the unfortunate happenings & its consequences.
Tired & hungry, he yearned the warmth of his mothers lap where he snuggled every night his ear close to her bosom. The rhythmic beat of her heart lulled little Rishi to sleep every night. But this night was different. His mother’s charred body lay in the middle of the corridor of their building awaiting daybreak to be sent to dust.
The Army was brought in after two days of intensive rioting & strewn decomposed bodies picked up from the surrounding areas of Charkop. Arti’s body was also claimed by the jawans to be included in the mass funeral organized in the near by cremation grounds.
Ravi n Rishi like directionless waifs walked around till they reached the ESIC hospital. Shazia aunty was there…one last hope! Rishi ran through the chaotic passage way dodging injured victims lying on the floors of the grimy hospital. At last he found Avinash uncle squatting next to his semi-dead wife staring listlessly at the ceiling with vacant eyes.
Seeing a familiar face was too overwhelming for Rishi who jumped into Avinash’s outstretched arms weeping loudly, his voice back after almost 36 hours of the ordeal. He tugged at Shazia aunty’s arm in an attempt to revive her, crying loudly pleading her not to leave him alone.
Shazia had been travelling in a dark tunnel aimlessly floating thru timelessness. She could hear Rishi’s voice in the distance. Why was the child crying? As her gaze fixed onto his frail sobbing body she squeezed the tiny hands that held hers. Seeing her back to consciousness made Rishi wail all the more, relating his mum’s violent death.
Don’t die Shazia aunty. Who shall take care of me if you too go away to God?
The innocent plea tugged at Shazia & emboldened her to fight back. She could not give up now. Avinash & Rishi needed her.
It took Shazia many weeks of medical care & physio-therapy to get back on her feet. She was lucky to be spotted by a social worker who enrolled her for the riot victims counselling program. Meeting others & sharing their tragedies helped heal the invisible wounds inflicted on her soul.
Shazia is back with her family now. They have changed residence & lives with Avinash, Rishi & Ravi in a chawl. The struggle to get back to normalcy is not over. Trying to erase that black Friday’s memories is not easy….taking each day as it comes. But even today, a small incident like watching tandori chicken get roasted gets Rishi all agitated transporting him back to that fateful day.
Copyright © BuntysBanter 2007
Shazia stayed with her husband, Avinash on the fourth floor of Hidayat Manzil. They had eloped & got married much against their parent’s will since they belonged to different religions. It had been a tumultuous year with trying to humour sorrowful parents, struggling to survive without any support from either of their families. A few close friends had helped them solemnize the nuptials but other than that, both had precious little as support.
It was the month after Ramadan when Shazia missed her periods. A visit to the gynaecologist a couple of weeks later confirmed the good news. Even the dysphoric parents came around on hearing of the pregnancy & made efforts to patch things up between them.
It was 6th of Jan, 1993. Being jumma most of the muslims had congregated to offer prayers at their respective mosques. Trouble had been brewing for sometime since the Babri Masjid demolition & sporadic incidents of rioting had been reported. But Mumbai was known for its religious harmony & tolerance in such matters.
The parishad had been plotting this for a while now after the retaliation they had received in various parts of the country by the enraged lot. Systematic attacks in all areas where the minorities lived had been planned with deft expertise by the saffron clad. The message this time would be loud n clear.
Rishi the 5 year ole bundle of mischief ran to Shazia aunty’s house the moment he opened his eyes each morning. This was like any other mornings for Rishi & as Shazia aunty prepared tea to soak the musk in for him to eat, he peeped from the parapet of the small balcony in glee. It was time for some festival again he thought.
A bewildered Shazia looked out as well & hearing the blood curdling death calls quickly closed the balcony door trembling in fear. She felt a dull pain in the pit of her stomach at the fear of being alone at home. The apprehension of Avinash’s well-being gnawed at her with each war cry!
It all happened so fast it took everyone living in Hidayat Manzil by surprise. A crowd of 30 odd rioters barged into the building breaking doors claiming lives with demonic frenzy thwarting all attempts of escape.
Shazia’s door collapsed with the efficacy of brute force. She hid Rishi under a pile of clothes in the far corner of the room. As the men raged in, she cried in desperation to spare her and her unborn child but her pitiful wailings drowned in the barbarian cries of the cruelly rapacious lot. The hands thirstily approached her from all around ripping, tugging, pining her down.
Her cries for mercy was answered with savage cruelty as they ravaged her one by one. Each thrust of human insult made her cry out loud for her ammi jaan. That was enough for the blood thirsty gang to inflict more violence.
Rishi trembled like a frightened leaf below the heap of clothes. He couldn’t bare to see his beloved aunty being tortured by strangers. He saw them carving her flesh with their knives & by the time they left her for dead, he had lost his voice in a state of shock. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t call out to his aunty to ascertain if she was still alive.
Shazia was in a delirious state slipping in & out of consciousness. Her insides hurt beyond comprehension. The vagina that had gasped with pleasure at the touch of a loved one was wailing, trying to comprise its fault. The heartbeat of the unborn that had started to beat relentlessly had been abridged abruptly.
Hearing her moan in pain made Rishi bolt in search of his family to bring help. No one was around as he looked desperately for his family. As he looked for his mother, he came across Raju dada his nineteen yr ole cousin brother who had hid in the loft. Sensing urgency in Rishi’s frantic gestures he followed him & was shocked to see a bloodied Shazia lying naked with her left breast cut open.
Wrapping Shazia in a bed sheet, Raju lifted the shallowly breathing Shazia & broke into a trot jumping stairs to reach medical help as soon as possible. The rioters were everywhere on the streets. He would not be able to pass through the milling crowd that had lost all sense of modesty.
It was then that Rishi did something that pronounced loss of innocence in this crazy genocide dance. He ran up to a corpse that had a shawl with the hindu god names wrapped around its neck. He unwound the shawl & ran to Raju wrapping the same around his thin body. Raju n Rishi plodded through the thick stupor of insanity in an attempt to reach the ESIC hospital that was close by.
In the meantime, Avinash had been in a daze. The diamond-polishing workshop where he worked as a supervisor was in a Muslim dominated area. Everywhere he looked, he could see smoke snaking its way towards the morbid sky, flames licking away at every possible flammable unit in the gully. Men shouting Allah-O-Akbar & other jihadi war calls, that combusted the atmosphere to nervous proportions.
The workshop owners’ wife, Imrana hid Avinash in their quarters & asked him to emerge only at sun down. When Avinash finally came out of his concealment he stealthily headed straight towards his home fearing the worst. On seeing his building blackened with smoke n flames, he rushed to the near by hospitals looking for his beloved Shazia. He searched in the casualty wards of the three hospitals near by. Not finding his wife, crestfallen he started looking for her in the mortuaries. And then he met Ravi who related the horrific incident of the day & guided him to a limp Shazia fighting for life between precious gasps of erratic breath. Avinash wept like a child looking at his beautiful wife tattered & torn, struggling for survival.
Ravi & Rishi went looking for Rishi’s mother Arti. His father had died just last year succumbing to alcoholism. Arti made ends meet by working as a nanny to a rich mans twins. The growing mob violence had made her nervous about the two boys at home & she had set out for home despite the ensuing violence.
Being a widow, she dressed in light coloured sarees, her forehead devoid of the conventional bindi, that every married hindu women adorned. As she picked her way hiding in the by lanes between buildings, she was cornered by a group who erroneously classified her as a muslim, bathed her with gasoline & burnt her alive a few meters away from her building. As Rishi stood dumb stuck a neighbour pacified the boys. He was struggling to grasp the unfortunate happenings & its consequences.
Tired & hungry, he yearned the warmth of his mothers lap where he snuggled every night his ear close to her bosom. The rhythmic beat of her heart lulled little Rishi to sleep every night. But this night was different. His mother’s charred body lay in the middle of the corridor of their building awaiting daybreak to be sent to dust.
The Army was brought in after two days of intensive rioting & strewn decomposed bodies picked up from the surrounding areas of Charkop. Arti’s body was also claimed by the jawans to be included in the mass funeral organized in the near by cremation grounds.
Ravi n Rishi like directionless waifs walked around till they reached the ESIC hospital. Shazia aunty was there…one last hope! Rishi ran through the chaotic passage way dodging injured victims lying on the floors of the grimy hospital. At last he found Avinash uncle squatting next to his semi-dead wife staring listlessly at the ceiling with vacant eyes.
Seeing a familiar face was too overwhelming for Rishi who jumped into Avinash’s outstretched arms weeping loudly, his voice back after almost 36 hours of the ordeal. He tugged at Shazia aunty’s arm in an attempt to revive her, crying loudly pleading her not to leave him alone.
Shazia had been travelling in a dark tunnel aimlessly floating thru timelessness. She could hear Rishi’s voice in the distance. Why was the child crying? As her gaze fixed onto his frail sobbing body she squeezed the tiny hands that held hers. Seeing her back to consciousness made Rishi wail all the more, relating his mum’s violent death.
Don’t die Shazia aunty. Who shall take care of me if you too go away to God?
The innocent plea tugged at Shazia & emboldened her to fight back. She could not give up now. Avinash & Rishi needed her.
It took Shazia many weeks of medical care & physio-therapy to get back on her feet. She was lucky to be spotted by a social worker who enrolled her for the riot victims counselling program. Meeting others & sharing their tragedies helped heal the invisible wounds inflicted on her soul.
Shazia is back with her family now. They have changed residence & lives with Avinash, Rishi & Ravi in a chawl. The struggle to get back to normalcy is not over. Trying to erase that black Friday’s memories is not easy….taking each day as it comes. But even today, a small incident like watching tandori chicken get roasted gets Rishi all agitated transporting him back to that fateful day.
Copyright © BuntysBanter 2007
posted by Bunty's Banter at 9:54 AM
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