Three Mistakes of My Life by Chetan Bhagat

(avery) #1

'At least fifty people died and more than a dozen injured when miscreants set
fire to a bogie of the Sabarmati Express near the Godhra station in Gujarat on
Wednesday morning.' The channel dialled in a railway official from Godhra on the
phone.
'Can you tell us what exactly is going on sir?' the newsreader said.
'We are still getting reports. But at around 8.30 in the morning Sabarmati
Express arrived at Godhra station,' the official said as his voice waned.
'Hello, can you hear us?' the newsreader said several times.
'Yes, I can now,' the official said and continued his story.
From what the channels knew at that point, a mob stoned a bogie of the
Sabarmati Express. The bogie contained kar sevaks returning from Ayodhya. The
passengers shut the metal windows to protect themselves from the stones. The
mob threw petrol on the bogie and set it on fire.
'What mob is this? Does it look premeditated?' the newsreader asked.
The railway official avoided controversy. 'The police has arrived and are
investigating the matter. Only they can comment on this.'
Ish, Omi and I watched TV non-stop. We cancelled all deliveries for the day.
'Mama's not picking up, I've tried ten times,' Omi said and threw his phone
aside.
TV channels had reached Godhra station. We saw the burnt bogie. The rest of
the train had already left for Ahmedabad. A tea vendor revealed more than the
railway official.
'The mob had Muslims. They had an argument with the Hindu kar sevaks and
burnt everyone - women, children,' the tea vendor said.
'We have fifty-eight people dead and over twenty injured, as per reports from
the Godhra hospital,' the newsreader said, 'and we have just received
confirmation that the burnt bogie was S6.'
'Did she say S6?' Omi said, turning to me.
I kept quiet. I didn't want to confirm the bad news.
'Did she? My brother is in that bogie.' Omi said and ran
out.
We came out of the shop. Every shopkeeper had a tense expression.
'They burn little kids, see what kind of a community is this,' a florist said to his
neighbouring mithai shop owner.
'Early morning in a railway station. Look at their guts,' another shopkeeper
said.
'They struck America in broad daylight too. Now the fuckers have reached
Gujarat. And Delhi will suck their dicks,' the florist said. One rarely heard curse
words in the temple, but today was different. Of all the days in my life, today was
different.
Omi came out of the temple with his father, mother and Mama's wife. All
shopkeepers, Ish and I gathered around them.
'Get my Dhiraj. I say get my Dhiraj,' Mama's wife's wails echoed against the
temple walls.
'I'll go to the station and find out,' Omi said. He tried Mama's phone again, but
it did not connect.
'Don't go, the city is not safe,' the florist said. Omi's mother clutched Omi's
hand.
'There could be a curfew soon. Let's shut shops and go home,' a florist said.

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