“The man was on his knees, begging for mercy. We were inside a tent, somewhere in the desert. Beside the man lay weapons. Guns of all sorts. They were useless to him now. After all, what he could he do with them. We’d already cut off both his arms just a few hours ago. Blood flowed through open wounds, like rivulets that eventually meet in a pool at his knees.
I looked into his eyes. They were bloodshot, all the fight had left him hours ago. That defiance with which he had glared at me earlier had been replaced ……with fear. It was then that I felt the rush. It invigorated me, consumed me. With a slight grin on my face, I picked up the knife and walked towards him. This was going to be fun”
A jostle from behind brought me out of my reverie. How careless of me! I’d started daydream. Granted, one couldn’t expect much better after being 48 hours. But then again, I couldn’t afford to lose my focus now. After all the planning, we were finally here. I had a mission to complete. Sleep was secondary.
I walked through those crowded streets of Mumbai. I couldn’t have asked for a better location. People milled all around me. Each one going about his own business. Hordes of people crowded around the jewellery stores. Gems shone at me from every direction. Every shop had rows upon rows of carefully designed gold bangles, each one different from the next. On display were some of the most beautiful emerald and sapphire necklaces I had ever seen. Truly an amazing sight. Who would have thought that these crowded lanes would be the centre for most of this pathetic country’s gems trade. But then again, I didn’t particularly care. I wasn’t here for the jewels. I was here for more important business.
I took a look at my reflection in one of the store’s windows. I had to admit. The disguise was pretty good. It’s amazing what a shave, haircut, dye and a pair of glasses could do for you. My own parents wouldn’t have recognized me. Perfect.
Wearing a sweaty shirt and pants, holding onto a battered briefcase, I looked just like the hundreds of business executives, tired after a hard day’s work. In fact, there was one right beside me, buying jewellery for his wife or girlfriend. The only difference was that my briefcase didn’t contain memos or papers. Just the simplest of bombs. A glance at my watch told me all I needed to know. I had five minutes to plant the bomb, and another 5 to get out of there.
And then suddenly I was back in the tent. An old memory. It had been over a year ago. Volunteers were needed for probably the most dangerous mission we had undertaken since 2008. Attacking that city ….again. I remember standing up from among the crowd gathered there. And I had not looked back since.
Thankfully, I was brought back to my senses almost immediately. I did have to thank the fools around me. They had, inadvertently, spurred me on.What drove me to join this mission….terror. Not my own. Terror in the eyes of these hapless people who would soon be lying on the ground, screaming incoherently . I could already picture all the blood. In just a few minutes, all these beautifully lit stores would be reduced to nothing but a pile of rubble. As for the people around me. Oh, that would be my reward. They would be strewn all over, blood spurting from open wounds. And I would rejoice.
I already knew how it would pan out. In a few minutes, the abandoned briefcase would blow, hurtling people across the street. While entertaining, the gore would not be enough for me. It was after the blast that the fun would begin. For over five minutes after the blast, their senses would be disrupted. In such a crowded street, it could only mean one thing. Complete and utter pandemonium. And then the stampede would begin.
Chaos truly is a strange thing. All these men and women around me were chatting happily to each other. Shopkeepers chatting amongst each other, bemoaning the recent rise in gold prices. Children begging their parents to buy them candy from the vendor at the corner.In just a few minutes, they would be running over each other, trying to survive. A phenomenon so savage and yet so beautiful, that at times I lose my breath just thinking about it.
I chided myself for daydreaming again. This wasn’t the time. I made my way to one of the largest and most crowded shops in the area. This place had been picked as the target less than a week ago by our recon team. They had picked well. One suitcase in all this rush would not be noticed. I pushed my way to one of the counters, and slipped the briefcase beside it. I looked at my watch. I had 5 minutes to get out of there. Right on time.
Though a tad difficult, I managed to slip out of the shop, and made my way out to the main street.
It was then that I felt a hand slip into my pocket. I had been warned that this place was notorious for its pickpockets. Even then, I was furious that someone would try to rob me .If only they knew who they were dealing with.
I turned quickly and grasped the hand, making sure that the thief couldn’t get away. The wallet in there was inconsequential. It was empty anyway. But still, I wanted to take a look at the fool.
It was a young boy, no more than 14. His black eyes stared back at me with a mixture of fear and defiance. If I weren’t on a deadline, I would drag this boy to an empty street corner and give him a piece of my mind. I still could perhaps break a finger or two right there to prove a point. My judgement got the better of me though. I had to leave. Anyway, this boy would be in the blast zone. He wasn’t going to survive the blast anyway. I could enjoy his death then. Letting his hand go, I said in a low voice” I’ll let you go this once. Don’t let me catch you again” A look of relief crossed his face, and then he ran away. The fool,
I made my way up to the terrace of one of the buildings in the area. I was going to witness something wonderful. And then, just as I looked down on the streets, it happened. I felt alive.
Chaos is a chain reaction.
Disclaimer: The article written is a fictitious and therefore, probably untrue representation of the events that occurred in Bombay on 13th July 2011. The author does not sympathize with or condone the acts of those behind the attacks.
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