A Blast from the Past

I don’t remember the exact date but it must surely have been some day between 8^th and 12^th of December 1992. The Babri Masjid had been demolished in Ayodhya, and riots had broken out in various parts of the country. Some riots had broken out in the outskirts of our town, Jamshedpur and hence a curfew was imposed. That was some excitement the people got in the then sleepy town. The roads were deserted and during the relaxation in curfew at certain times of the day we would play cricket in empty streets.

Me, my two sisters, my younger brother, and two kids from the neighborhood, all we did the whole day was either play in our garden or on the streets. No schools, no home works. It was like an extended winter vacation for us. We used to live in a house which right across the street from the police staff quarters and the police station.

That day, at around 3 in the afternoon we were as usual playing in the garden. The curfew had been relaxed till the evening. Our neighbor, a man who must have been in his early 20s and used to occasionally play cricket with us, came up to us and showed us a huge sutli bomb that he had saved from Diwali.

He told us he would show us a technique of making time bomb. Being a bunch of kids who were used to watching movies like Tridev and Ram Lakhan etc on VCRs, we were excited by the idea of making a time bomb. He took an incense stick and tied it to the fuse of the bomb.

“Look now,” he said “after the incense stick has burnt for sometime it will reach the point where the fuse is and it will ignite it. So if we know how long exactly an incense stick burns we will be able to set the exact time when the bomb goes off.”

He placed the bomb on the boundary wall outside our garage and lighted the incense stick.  We were super thrilled. We all ran to the verandah and huddled together patiently waiting for the bomb to go off.

As the moments ticked by we realized that this was going to take longer than we had thought. The neighbor said he will go inside and comeback to check on the bomb later. The two kids decided to watch the bomb go off from their respective houses. My brother and sisters went inside never realizing what was going to happen. I being the eldest had a faint idea about the consequences. My father and my grandfather were both at home and were taking their afternoon siesta.

I stood in the verandah watching the incense stick getting shorter by the second. Now it seemed that the burning end of the stick was approaching the fuse faster than I had thought. Suddenly the fuse flared up and started to burn with a hiss. I ran inside the house with my fingers in the ears and threw myself on the sofa in the living room.

And then…… BOOM.

The bomb went off, it was a huge one. There were no decibel limitations in those days, so one can only imagine the noise today. Due to the curfew the town was almost dead silent before the blast so its effect doubled. The noise ripped through the silence and echoed for a few moments. Then everything around me seemed to come to a standstill. I got up, came out in the verandah and saw smoke rising from the boundary wall where the bomb had been kept.

Suddenly I was aware that I was not the only spectator of the scene of crime. Policemen armed with lathis and rifles had come out of the staff quarters. Some were still in their shorts and vests.

Ten or twelve of them, some dressed some semi dressed rushed towards the site of the blast, near our garage from where the smoke was still rising as if a gene was about to appear. They were followed by a throng of women and kids coming out of the police quarters.

“O Singhji bahar aaiye!” one of the hawaldars shouted from the gate.

My father came out followed by my grandfather, my mother and my siblings. I guess we were all confused which Singhji the hawaldar was calling to. Suddenly everyone was shouting, talking, looking. Somebody picked up and brought the charred remains of the bomb and showed it to my father. I stood at the back and looked at everything in horror.

“Who did this?” I heard my father asking me. 

I did not answer. The original culprit wasn’t in sight. His door was closed even after so much commotion right next door. I wasn’t surprised.

“Arey, it was your kid, he burst the bomb, I saw him lighting it.” Someone from the crowd said.

“No, no we don’t buy such crackers for our kids.” My mother retaliated.

Everyone started talking again. A lady who was from the police staff quarters and was also a friend of my mother took our side and tried to calm the crowd down.

A man wearing an inspector’s cap arrived at the scene. He came up to my grandfather and said something. Turned out he was an acquaintance of my grandfather. He brought the situation under control asking everyone to calm down.

“Arey bachchein log hain, khel rahe thein.” He said to everyone. “Jaiye aap log sab.”

The crowd slowly dispersed. My father thanked him for his co-operation. We all went inside and closed the door. My father asked me what happened. I told him everything. All hell broke loose. My father beat me black and blue. He was angry at me for not telling the police the truth. I had not lied either.