Silence

It was a rancid laugh , nothing human in it ... it echoed off the walls of the packed hospital , it rang in the terrified ears of the people who heard it.

People , yes, there were all kinds of people here , rich - poor, old-young, employed-unemployed , women-men , good- bad .. everybody , terror did not choose its victims , bombs do not ask your religion before it rips apart your head from your body. The sharpnel does not see that it is a five year old child who if lived would have become a somebody in this world

This laughter though , did not emanate from the terroriser , it rose from the depths of the terrorised ... no humor , just pain , irony , sadness, madness , anger, helplessness , how many words? How many more adjectives ?

The doctors examined him, no outward injuries they said , no internal bleeding , they asked him to leave , they thought him deranged to laugh that way , and he wasnt hurt outwardly, so he left , he pushed and shoved and got out of the hospital onto the street where another sea of humanity was packed , some in a queue to donate blood , some in a queue to identify loved ones , a queue to the morgue , a queue for everything .. he simply walked out ... He looked down at himself , his clothes were in good shape except for the splatter of blood on his shirt and the dirt on his trousers , his hands has scratches and his palms had blisters from holding on to the red hot railing of the train when it occured.

He woke up the next day , switched on the T.V it was a rerun of yesterday's news and ... So It was true , it did happen , it wasnt a terrible dream ....

..... Shock was leaving , so was the numbness to the pain that leaves with shock , he felt the pain stab through his heart .. he almost called out for his wife , he stopped right in time , this shock had done weird things to his brain .. the wife had died soon after his son and Daughter in Law , she could not bear the pain of their seperation..............
.......... he got up and mechanically went through the motions .............

.........She stopped him to ask about the blasts , he did not answer , he walked on , she called out , but it was of no use. He walked right out on the road , a truck honked , he unmindfully walked on , the driver shook his fists at him. She looked at him and shook her head , ran upto him and took him to the hospital.

They stood in the "morgue queue " to identify bodies,
"Blast victims?"
"Yes" she answered , "His Grandchildren were with him , Im not sure they are alive , one was 8 years old and the other was 12, the younger one was a girl"
"Whats wrong with him?"
"Maybe , he's in a shock , Im not sure"
"You his daughter?"
"No his tenant, I live in his son's place , the son and the duaghter in law died in the Gujrath riots"

She shook her head ... it was all of no use , it wasnt meant to be this way ..

They searched , and she found the boy , or what used to be the boy once , it was half missing , the other half tied in a sari to stop it from disintgrating.She called out to him , he would not turn towards her , the morgue was a hell hole , parents and children , grandparents and uncles , brothers and mothers screaming , sobbing , crying , fainting , imploring the dead to rise .. disbelief over their death , anger at the nameless , faceless enemey who did this to them , helplessness at the ultimate untimely ghastly death of their loved ones ... but he stood there , eyes taking it in all ... he just stood there .

I walked up and asked him to answer the woman's call. He did not answer , i put my hand on his shoulder , he turned , impassionate ... I gestured in the general direction and he hurried there ,saw his grandchild , or what was left of him , he could not cry , the tears would not come ... his pain and anguish were captured in my camera , it would later win me a prize for the best photgraph taken , but at that time , I experienced death in his eyes , he asked for his grand daughter , she , was alive ...

....... I stood there , as he saw his tiny grandchild on the floor , the hospital was so flooded that they did not have enough beds ... her right hand and her eye was missing , her hair was singed due to the blast , her burnt scalp was visible like a mouldy bread left in the open for too long ... where her torso had been , now there was a gaping hole , she was alive , but barely ... but what wringed my heart was her left hand .. it clutched the teddy , which was clutched by her severed right hand , a grotesque sight by any standards ,as he slowly tried to remove the dead hand , she spoke to him ... shocked voice .. "granpa , bhaiyya is dead , i saw him dying" ... the last sentence she would speak, ever ....

.......He walked out , lights turned green to red to amber and back to green , the hawker shouted out his wares , the cars honking and the beggar begging , the world was full of sounds ........ An old man , alone in this city they call Mumbai broke down while I was in front of the camera's hailing the "Spirit" of Mumbai , talking about the incidents after the blast ..........

.............. He cried , his sobs rocking his body ......... the blast had robbed him of hearing his grandchild's last words , the blast which killed his grandchildren , left him to suffer alone in his silence , the blast left him deaf , deaf to his child's last words , deaf to the world .....