Mother was picking me up
from a friend’s place (it was most likely Neethu, my childhood best friend) and
it was quite late in the night. Close to midnight we were driving back home, on
a road that appeared to be a freeway (there are none in my hometown). The car
was an SUV (not the i20 that we actually own) and for some reason I was sitting
in the backseat, behind mom.
Then, somehow we lose our
way. We take a wrong exit and mother doesn’t seem to remember which way to go
now. We decide to halt the car in the hopes of enquiring directions from a
stall owner on the side of the freeway. While the car is halted, the dream
shifts slightly and its nearly daybreak now (though seemingly it was midnight
only minutes ago). There is no one at the stall and there is little to no
traffic on the road. I am frantically looking at google maps for directions and
mother is considering our next move.
Just then, a slow running
jeep passes us a few lanes away in the opposite direction, carrying more than
15 men, as many as possible sitting inside, the rest hanging out the jeep doors.
My attention is immediately drawn towards the AK 47 like rifle in each of their
hands, and the white and green flag of Pakistan, held from corner to corner by
two of them in the middle seat.
With horror, the sinking
realization of the gravity of our position dawns on me. I don’t see them
noticing either me or the terrified look on my face. There is complete silence,
I hear nothing, think nothing, do nothing. Then with a nearly inaudible scream
I tell my mom to duck under the car seat, and I hide myself, hoping against
hope that they do not notice us. We stay hidden for a few seconds or few
minutes, I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t feel or measure the passage of time. But I
know they would notice us soon and realize that we need to get out of there,
and get as far away as quickly as possible.
So I tell my mom to drive,
I yell, drive drive drive, and she begins to drive. We slowly get off the
freeway and take an exit onto a narrow city road. It is hard for mom to drive
as there seem to be large obstacles on the road. I shudder to think if they are
bodies. For a moment the dream changes very slightly, I see my old brown snake
skin clutch, one I had in college, falling off the car, right below my feet,
which is odd because such a drop could happen on a scooter, but we are still in
the same SUV. I am baffled by the drop for a moment, but I shift my attention
back to our precarious situation.
The car had barely gotten
any far on this road when the car begins to slow down. Why on earth was mom was
slowing down? I move sideways into the middle seat to look at her. I see her
keeling over the steering wheel, going unconscious. She had been hit. Two
bullets in her arm, one in the abdomen, she is bleeding. I couldn’t understand
how? I did not hear any gunfire. And we were in a car, we should have been
shielded by it.
The car stops somehow, I
drag her out of the car, and frantically look around to get help. The city is
peculiar merge of LA and New Delhi. I could barely see anyone out here in the
street. There are houses around us and a small train station straight ahead. I
do my best to carry her to the train station, she is bleeding out, barely conscious.
I seat her at a bench and look around for help. There are very few people at
the station, and a few of them are policeman, seemingly unaware of what has
been going on. I urge them to help, they do nothing. I am screaming for help
all around, yet people simply look on, barely any movement of facial muscles.
They don’t move to help us or express any shock. They look at me with a blank
expression, neither knowing what to do, nor wanting to do anything. I continue
asking for help in vain, crying, feeling utterly helpless, unable to think,
with my greatest fear ever, moments from realization…
I try and try only to
fail, and she bleeds to death on that bench.
I wake
up crying, more terrified than I have ever been in my life. I could not stop
crying…
