Terrorism : The Aftermath. The Other Side Of The Story

We all know that the threat of terrorism has now become more deadly. Everyday, we read about it in newspapers, see on TV screens, watch movies on such themes or discuss about it in our daily life.

This is a fictional dedication to all terrorist victims at the recent Mumbai blast.

This is about the other side of the story of the aftermath of terrorism.

Picture courtesy: Terrorism strikes again in Indian Heartland

Ronny could not stop the tears from flowing as he turned to the end of the letter. He let them flow, starching the faded ink on the almost torn paper. He let his tears be soaked in his shirt and the paper. He had no qualms.

He remembered little Ronny flipping through a faded photo album. The album in his hand was old and faded pages almost yellow and crumpled. Ronny was only 7 years old then.

Ronny’s mother came from the kitchen and gave a scream of exclamation when she saw the album in his hands. She hurriedly snatched it from his hands and let the glass of milk spill on the floor. Turning a deaf ear to her son’s cries, she took strong hold of one of the pictures Ronny was holding and placed it away, on a high shelf and rebuked him for touching things that were not meant for him.

Ronny still remembered the photograph though. It was the photo of a man, well-built and tall. He was fair, with silky hair that fell on his forehead and gave him a mystic charming appeal. He wore subtle specs and had a handsome personality on the whole.

Some years later, when Ronny was fifteen, some men in green uniforms visited his house. They were abominable looking people and though Ronny was a big strong boy then, he forsook the door to his mother.

Then what happened was unbelievable.

The men pulled up his mother, her scream renting a horrible ambience to the air. They pulled her away as she turned towards him and gave a long loud wail which was untimely stifled as the men pushed her into the car and drove off. Ronny stood there staring….. as if it was the scene of a movie going on.

The next few years were spent in turmoil and confusion. The brilliant student, Ronny missed a year or two. Soon after what happened to his mother, his uncle rescued him and took him away to a foreign land.

His Uncle and Aunt gave him all the care and love that he desired, but it was different from mom- there was SYMPATHY in their love.

………………

After reading through the tear stained letter more than once, he then took the small bottle of sleeping tablets that lay nearby. And before gobbling them, he wrote a letter too. Another one….. and then…all was over. His eyes closed, blood dripped from his mouth and it was the last letter and last breath of Ronny’s life.

In his letter he wrote:

Dear all,

I’m Ronny. I’m sure there is no surprise about the name. You must have heard it pretty often, eh? I’m all around the news as I’m the new fodder for media.

When I was young, I thought I was playing the negative role in some movie, for though I studied hard and did well, no school gave me admission.

I did not loose hope. I studied at home; unaware of what was happening around. I qualified as much or much more than you can in a university. Though I was most capable, none of the companies gave me a job. I neglected their atrocities and looked at life positively, always wondering if something was wrong in me.

I never read newspapers or opened news channels for my Uncle had denied me the pleasure. I agreed, for he was the one who gave me LIFE. They always told me my mother was alive, but though I couldn’t see her. She sent me a letter on every birthday.

Today is my twentieth birthday and in today was the last day of mother’s life. I’m happy for her…. for the end of her sufferings and a blissful life in HEAVEN.

But the letter she sent. That is what hurts.

My father, a terrorist? The handsome young man in the photo that I accidentally stumbled upon when I was seven? No not possible!

But it is so! That’s the reason why life disowned me …. friends deserted me, intellectual general people spoke ill of me? Is that why? But what did I do?? What is wrong in me?

I know the answer, MY FATE IS HORRIFIC. Alas! I was born to the family of a man who was a rebel. But what did mom do? Why did you do that to her??

Enough! I cannot take anymore for father’s sins. I cannot suffer. Oh lord, I come to thee hoping You to be more caring than these animals on Earth.

Yours,

(Ronny)

If you do not care enough for yourselves, for other common people, do think a minute about YOUR OWN FAMILY which has to suffer due to your sins.

You can also read: "Pages From A Diary" - an imaginary journal of an 18 year old boy affected by terrorism attack and "Tonight" - a short poem dedicated to Mumabi Terror Victims.