One's personality is both a composition and reflection, but if I have to choose one of them, I will choose reflection as the "self" is more important to me than "me". One's composition may change, walking across the cultural landscapes and climbing the social ladder but one's self is tied to one's reflections. The fun part is that reflections are not bound to "Time-Space" barriers ( it is not time-space) and respective mental constructs, which have grown so thick over ages, that they had reduced the image of humans to Sisyphus, rolling different sizes of boulders on hills of different heights.… As the name of this Blog indicates, knols are my perspectives on topics of interests, sweet/bitter experiences or just doodling :)

Friday, March 9, 2012

It still scares me….

I was cold. My hands were almost frozen and it was getting hard to keep breathing as my nose was running. Running nose was making breathing miserable but my both hands were busy in steering my kite and I had no time for blowing my nose or rubbing my palms together to give them some heat out of friction. The only thing that I was caring was my kite. The wind was blowing at a good pace and my kite was flying high of all time. I was not sure if I could make it again so I just wanted to keep it high as long as I could. Despite my lust for flying kites, I was rarely successful to fly it as high. I was trying hard to learn the secrets of hobby so I was listening to everyone who had a say about it and was trying them but almost all of my efforts were ending in despair. I was so envious of my uncle’s skills (if it happens that you read this, please make a good kite for me, hehehe, as I still believe in your ingenious skills..). To me, he was a genius as he was making very handy and beautiful kites out of scratches. All he needed was bamboo spines, a plastic shopper bag and thread, not even a scissor as he was cutting plastic with thread.

That evening, it was one of my rarest times and it was so delicious that I didn’t realize that it was getting dark. Then I heard someone calling me. I think, I heard my name twice. I looked back but nobody was there. In fact, the whole ground was empty. I got so scared that I left my kite and thread in place and just started running to home. When I reached home it was already dark and I was no more cold as I had run nonstop, may be for more than 20 minutes. The reason that I got scared was not the empty ground and calling of my name by a ghost (or just out of my head) but the ground itself. I heard that before partition of India-Pakistan, this ground was used for open air cremation. More than that was the scary stories of elders that were making this place scarier after dark. One of the stories goes like,

(A retired old man); at those times, most of current Alamdar Road was unpaved. I was returning from duty (government job) on bicycle. It was dark, silent and there was nobody around. For me it was routine. Then I see a beautiful white baby goat playing and jumping around my bicycle. It was so beautiful and tempting that I couldn’t resist but to go and grab this baby goat. As I picked it up, I felt as its limbs are lengthening and it is becoming heavy and it is laughing with the sound of a woman. I tried to throw it but I failed. The only thing that I remember was fainting and falling on the ground. When I woke up, it was dawn and I was on the ground with no one around…

For a child it was enough to know that his city was totally destroyed in 1935 earthquake, in which estimated 30,000-60,000 residents died. The spirits of those who died must be roaming around but this ground was even scarier as no one knew for how long it was used for open air cremation. I think, the stories that then I was reading about dark roaming spirits had added to my superstitions. The thought of thousands of spirits roaming in the city after dark was enough to scare me. Whatever, it was just spirits and ghostly creatures that I was scared of and of course only after dark. I never thought that there will come times that I no more fear any ghost or spirit but devil-men who claim to stand for religion or civilization.

It is again March but that March was really a dark March. On March 2nd, 2004, long after I had forgotten my childish fears of ghosts I witnessed for the first time what devils are and how they go for cannibalism. I was in Ashura procession like every year. Around 1;12 PM, suddenly two blasts occurred and intense firing followed. Nobody had an idea that what was happening and then I saw the wounded and dead bodies coming in. It was a total chaos. What I may never forget was a dead 10-11 years old boy. His face was undamaged but his back-skull was missing and the skull was empty. Two persons were carrying him and his forehead was moving in and out as they were running. Though there were people with missing legs and open stomachs but that child, Ah, I just can’t forget. His innocent face and his empty skull still come to me as great pain. There were mostly children in front of procession and they were the first victims of firing and suicide attack. More than 56 people died on that day. It was first time that I realized, it is not dead-ghosts roaming around in dark that are scary but devil-men who roam around in day light who eat live people. Frankly, anybody, no matter who he is and what he stands for when talks about war; he doesn’t look to me as human but a devil. I would love to be scared of ghosts but I think, the devils snatched that innocence even from children. I can just wish that children continue to get scared of ghosts than devils. When I watch talks of war, I just think about those children who are now scared of ghosts but soon going to get scared of devils instead and that thought STILL SCARES ME….

No comments:

Post a Comment