This recount is related to an earlier post written
elsewhere. It’s about the events before the actual incident which has already been rendered
* * *
It was impossible to venture beyond the borders of Kabul.
The city’s southern part was being bombed intermittently by the Pashtun warlord
Gulbuddin Hekmatyar. And he had agreed to an interview when contacted on his satellite
phone!
So to cut down on the agony, we stepped into the Kabul Museum,
or whatever was left of it. There were a few stone idols of Buddha that were
different avatar. With curly, but ancient Roman-styled hair, and sporting a mustache!
The tour was cut short by sounds of heavy thuds coming from
some place nearby. “Suckers!” cried our local contact: “These rockets suck the
oxygen in air…”
“Let’s go…,” I shouted, which our local friends thought was
rushing for cover. On realising my intent, the driver of our battered yellow Toyota
looked at me, shook his head and commented, “Yeah? You wanna see bombs? You wanna
see rockets? Yeah? Come, I show you death…”
And soon I knew what he meant!
They weren’t really sucking in all the oxygen… rather the “suckers”
appeared to be coming from some Multi-Barrel-Rocket-Launchers stationed on some trucks
somewhere close to the city.
It flew in accompanied by what appeared like the sound of a
short whistle and then blew up with a heavy thud. And they were exploding by the
dozens nearby! I could see facade of humble houses crumbling!!
“Let’s get the hell out of here!”
But a group of men stopped our vehicle, pulled us out and
stuffed in two injured – perhaps dead – men in the back seat. Two from the crowd
climbed inside the vehicle, while the rest pushed us up and on to the roof.
The thuds were closing in!
In what appeared to be longer than eternity, three of us sat
on the roof of a speeding car, hanging on to each other and holding on to the
luggage rack for life. With every thud now, it seemed the taxi jumped a little.
With the dirt and dust – perhaps debris – falling on us.
The ordeal ended… when we reached the Red Cross hospital… But one of our
passengers was indeed dead!
* * *
That evening, after we settled down in what was once a plush hotel, we realized that when we were holding on to each other, the grasp was so
tight that there were crimson marks on the skin!
My companion wondered, “We actually faced death! What were we
thinking then? Does anyone remember…”
All of us drew a blank!
(This post is the musings of Jayanta Bhattacharya. It has nothing to do with where he works or what he does to earn his bread. In case of any criticism or suggestion, write to @Jayantab15 on Twitter / Facebook or jayantab15@gmail.com on email)
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