Ever faced a raging mob?
They come as one, angry, furious, crazy, full of hatred and loathing, fuelled by some anger, raising slogans of some jumbled ideology, they are enraged and joined like a pack of dynamite, its short fuse ignited, ready to blow up, they move like a swarm of locusts devouring everything on its way.
I was a witness to it once, it was enough for a lifetime.
Some people live long lives, but I lived it and reached my youth, since then I have been comatose, walking, talking, eating but nothing else is there of me.
Whenever I recount that day, that fateful day of spring, a day that had started with a mother’s blessing and had continued even to this day, imagining the day in self-talk, I can hear myself, this is what had transpired, I can hear myself saying:
My leg hurts, it is the shrapnel from the shards of glass. Why the pain is so excruciating? I need to move away from here, the smoke is choking me, and burning metal gives out thick black smoke, maybe it is the paint that ignites not the metal. I had to get my mind off the situation if I had to survive, although the mob was still hovering around, desecrating, and destroying everything they could get their hands on. I could recognize a few of them, we went to school together, we played in the neighbourhood as well, but then…
