He was jovial. His sister had just begun college and was selected in the present edition of Roadies (an MTv show). This other girl was a colleague of the guy and they were in Pune to spend the weekend with the sister. My brother said, he used to frequent it while he was posted in Pune. And I think, this is possibly the closest I have been to terror. Or, maybe not.
Last Saturday's bomb blast in Pune brought back memories of the earlier blasts in Mumbai. My then would-be-husband used to travel in the same train route in which the serial blasts took place. My sis, who was working in Mumbai, was untraceable for a few hours. I had felt a numbing sensation in my legs as I finally got to talk to my sis. My hands were trembling and my voice quivered. I wanted to say a whole lot of pacifying words to my little sis in a city ripped apart by blasts, but the only thing I did was cry. We cried together across a hundred/thousand miles. I cried out of a terror-stricken soul who wanted to hold all the dear ones close. I guess, saying goodbyes are always tough. Thinking about having to say the same is tougher.
Last Saturday when I first came to know about the blasts, the television visuals of the injured lying in blood-soaked clothes initiated a very disparate stream of images in my mind. I thought, was it a dimly lit bakery? May be. There may be woodden tables which had scratches made by restless people talking about the passing of another busy week. The chairs may have squeaked each time a customer took his seat. In another Saturday weekend, my brother may have been sitting at the same place where this young boy, his sister and his friend sat. I didn't feel terror. I was numb within.
Wisdom honours a single truth: The future does not live out of blueprints. But may be, we need a blueprint to save the human race. Or else, even before the global warming endangers mankind, man will not leave any stone unturned to be the cause of his own extinction. Amen.