A Slice of my Life

[Disclaimer: Though the facts and dates of events are true yet this story is a piece of fiction.]

Dedications : AB, who is more than a friend to me . If not him, I wouldn't have written this story nor this blog would have existed in the first place.

Whenever we narrate a story, a common question arises regarding its category whether it’s romantic, tragic, thrilling, historic etc. But the story which I am going to tell can’t be simply categorized into one.

To begin with, I am Md. Khurshid. I am in my mid-twenties. I love playing cricket and listening to music. Now I am based in Kolkata, working for an IT firm. I can’t make up much time for cricket but I make myself aware of all kinds of music happening these days. Truly speaking I don’t enjoy playing it anymore because it reminds me of my best friend Amitayu. We jammed up much in our teenage days. He was a great singer with a unique voice. Being given a chance he would have been surely our Indian Idol.

My story traces back to the days when I was in school. My father had a transferable job so basically I have roamed most of India. It was then I was in Ahmedabad. I don’t exactly remember the date but it was a Friday in mid-March. Gujarat riots begun following Godhra train burning. The condition was not at all stable over the state. Curfew was implemented all over Gujarat. I was returning home accompanied by Amitayu, after offering namaz. We always use to accompany each other wherever we went.He was my best buddy. At school whenever I was into a fight, he would stop me immediately. We did our homework together. We used to cover up each other weaknesses. Even some of our classmate were jealous of our never-breaking friendship.

That day we were chatting over some topic which I can’t recollect now. All of a sudden we were distracted by some loud noises. We couldn’t make out what was going on but were really scared. Then we heard continuous bombing sounds and some loud cries. We were sure something was wrong so we started waking hastily towards my home which was nearby, 2 minutes walk. As we entered the lane we could hardly recognize it. Smokes shrouded the colony and houses were on fire. My brain stopped functioning and I was too scared seeing the situation. I didn’t understand much about the riots but knew it was a conflict between two communities-Hindus and Muslims.

India is a beautiful country and the most populous democracy in the world. Over 800 million Indians (80.5%) are Hindu. Other religious groups include Muslims (13.4%), Christians (2.3%), Sikhs (1.9%), Buddhists (0.8%), Jains (0.4%).India's culture is marked by a high degree of syncretism and cultural pluralism. It has managed to preserve established traditions while absorbing new customs, traditions, and ideas from invaders and immigrants. Still its image is shattered when incidents like this takes place.

The sound of the shells was deafening. Few people were lighting cars, people were running all around. Suddenly I noticed a group of people approaching us. They had knifes with them smeared with blood. It was a terrifying image. I was perplexed. I was not able to make out what to do next. I tried to run towards my house ,towards the approaching angry mob. Amitayu stopped me ;pulled me by my hand and started running in the opposite direction towards his home.

Everything was happening so fast that hardly could I figure anything. What we understood that the group were of Hindu community. I was pinpointed as I was wearing the white namaz cap which was symbolic enough to prove my religion. They followed us .We kept running. Soon we reached Amitayu’s colony which was a Hindu area where I was considered safe from their hands as they might not come there looking for me. Amitayu’s parents soon opened the doors as they were worried about us. We hurriedly entered the house and bolted the doors.

But the nightmare returned. They started shouting outside the house searching for the muslim guy. Amitayu took off my white cap and told me to hide inside the house. A few more shouts and I could hear the door being break open. A shrill cry and then it was all silent . I don’t remember how long I was there inside the room in hiding, may be few minutes . I was waiting for amitayu to come and tell me its safe now,but no one came. I stayed there again for a minute.

The silence was killing me. I could not wait any longer . I came out from under the bed. I dragged myself towards the living room which seemed dead to me. As I entered I was shocked. Amitayu’s parents weren’t normal .They seemed to be still. I moved further inside the room. Amitayu was lying on the ground, bleeding, wearing my white cap.

He is no more in this world. He was my best friend. He sacrificed himself for our friendship. He used to love me truly.

This is not a story of love and friendship alone. We saw violence as well as tragedy.
I never got news of my parents thereafter. No,the riots didn’t orphan me ,I stay with Amitayu’s parents now.