They say your life flashes by when you are dying.
I was born when the godhra riots broke out. Both my parents died during the cross fire and the communal fights. And since there was nobody who will give me a name, I named myself Godhra. I was very young when this happened. Though they say children of such young age don't remember much, I remember vividly the carnage which took place that day. My parents hid me behind a dumpster and went looking out for food and water, we had been starving for quite sometime. But as night fell and they did not return home, I ventured out as the angry noises slowly faded away which stopped during the day following loud bang-bang noises, I later came to know that these were caused by gun-fire.
So i took the first steps outside the shady dumpsters, and saw the setting sun reflected from the lipid pools of liquid lying on the road. And soon my thirst took over my body and I gently licked it. It tasted like no water I had tasted. It was warm and thick, and the pool of water was becoming becoming bigger and bigger. As I looked up I saw the entire road in shambles. Bodies strewn around, and so were the body parts. Peculiar looking objects and cloths with different colors. Weird looking drawings on the walls with the same water which I had tasted. And as i slowly walked further and further. I saw some of my family members but none were my mother and father. i was still hungry and thirsty, the water I tasted did not taste good. As I kept on walking I saw somebody who looked like my father. And there he was bleeding to death, to close to death to even recognize my face. As he lay there, tears dried cheeks which poured out of his eyes from pain.
He had a deep slash running from tummy all the way to his back. The wound getting bigger and smaller with each breath he took. I sat next to him, looking at his wound and his face, praying that the next breadth is his last. And then what seemed like a lifetime of pain and suffering was ended after 5 mins.
After few more days, the men in green uniform came in hordes. In big things called trucks, and they walked in straight lines, not like us kids. I made friends with few more people who had had the same sense of loss. Esp one man, who made sure that I get atleast one morsel of food everyday. Even he was in hiding from all these people who were out to do something evil. He was a nice man. He always used to tell me stories about his family and esp his wife who he was searching for. Every single day he used to turn all the bodies on the streets to see if it was his wife and I used to follow him searching for my mother.
Things moved on, he did not find his wife and I did not find my mother. And we went our seperate ways.
Things were getting back to normal, food was available in plenty, and so was water. But then soon things changed again for the worse. You could smell the danger in the air. There was news that, they were going to kill all the stray dogs like me, because there was concern among humans with the spread of rabies and other infections we might be carrying along with us. Though I had not noticed anybody I had been moving around with in the past few days dying out of rabies everybody was still scared for the inevitable. The next day evening I got the news that 4 of us had been killed and our bodies taken away. We did not know what they did to our bodies after they shot us. i did not want to know.
The next day, I saw somebody walking. He looked very familiar and I went closer and soon recognized the nice man who took care of me when my father died and on the numerous search both him and me took everyday evening. Enough time had gone by as the blood on the streets dried and soon washed away and I do not blame him for not recognizing me at first. But the good man he was, he patted my head and asked me to follow him which I most gladly did.
He had a nice house and it had lot of pictures, him and another woman. Must have been his wife. Soon both of fell into a routine where he would wake up and take me out for my morning abulations. And we would sit and watch TV all day.
And then one day, he never woke up to take me outside. And I kept waiting for him to wake up the entire time. I cried for the first time. This was Deja Vu. Few people are fortunate to have 2 fathers who loved their kids so much and am one of the few un-fortunate ones to lose them both. And as slowly grief took over, I began to lose interest in the food his neighbours bought and gave me. And I just lay there next to his chair where he used to watch TV all day. And then I closed my eyes....
I was born when the godhra riots broke out. Both my parents died during the cross fire and the communal fights. And since there was nobody who will give me a name, I named myself Godhra. I was very young when this happened. Though they say children of such young age don't remember much, I remember vividly the carnage which took place that day. My parents hid me behind a dumpster and went looking out for food and water, we had been starving for quite sometime. But as night fell and they did not return home, I ventured out as the angry noises slowly faded away which stopped during the day following loud bang-bang noises, I later came to know that these were caused by gun-fire.
So i took the first steps outside the shady dumpsters, and saw the setting sun reflected from the lipid pools of liquid lying on the road. And soon my thirst took over my body and I gently licked it. It tasted like no water I had tasted. It was warm and thick, and the pool of water was becoming becoming bigger and bigger. As I looked up I saw the entire road in shambles. Bodies strewn around, and so were the body parts. Peculiar looking objects and cloths with different colors. Weird looking drawings on the walls with the same water which I had tasted. And as i slowly walked further and further. I saw some of my family members but none were my mother and father. i was still hungry and thirsty, the water I tasted did not taste good. As I kept on walking I saw somebody who looked like my father. And there he was bleeding to death, to close to death to even recognize my face. As he lay there, tears dried cheeks which poured out of his eyes from pain.
He had a deep slash running from tummy all the way to his back. The wound getting bigger and smaller with each breath he took. I sat next to him, looking at his wound and his face, praying that the next breadth is his last. And then what seemed like a lifetime of pain and suffering was ended after 5 mins.
After few more days, the men in green uniform came in hordes. In big things called trucks, and they walked in straight lines, not like us kids. I made friends with few more people who had had the same sense of loss. Esp one man, who made sure that I get atleast one morsel of food everyday. Even he was in hiding from all these people who were out to do something evil. He was a nice man. He always used to tell me stories about his family and esp his wife who he was searching for. Every single day he used to turn all the bodies on the streets to see if it was his wife and I used to follow him searching for my mother.
Things moved on, he did not find his wife and I did not find my mother. And we went our seperate ways.
Things were getting back to normal, food was available in plenty, and so was water. But then soon things changed again for the worse. You could smell the danger in the air. There was news that, they were going to kill all the stray dogs like me, because there was concern among humans with the spread of rabies and other infections we might be carrying along with us. Though I had not noticed anybody I had been moving around with in the past few days dying out of rabies everybody was still scared for the inevitable. The next day evening I got the news that 4 of us had been killed and our bodies taken away. We did not know what they did to our bodies after they shot us. i did not want to know.
The next day, I saw somebody walking. He looked very familiar and I went closer and soon recognized the nice man who took care of me when my father died and on the numerous search both him and me took everyday evening. Enough time had gone by as the blood on the streets dried and soon washed away and I do not blame him for not recognizing me at first. But the good man he was, he patted my head and asked me to follow him which I most gladly did.
He had a nice house and it had lot of pictures, him and another woman. Must have been his wife. Soon both of fell into a routine where he would wake up and take me out for my morning abulations. And we would sit and watch TV all day.
And then one day, he never woke up to take me outside. And I kept waiting for him to wake up the entire time. I cried for the first time. This was Deja Vu. Few people are fortunate to have 2 fathers who loved their kids so much and am one of the few un-fortunate ones to lose them both. And as slowly grief took over, I began to lose interest in the food his neighbours bought and gave me. And I just lay there next to his chair where he used to watch TV all day. And then I closed my eyes....
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