The Place It Used To Be

Jamaal Run!!!! Nawab!!!

Those were Ammi’s last word and then I never looked back

20^th February 2002, The day I lost everything. We were one of the most respected families in Gafar Alleyway. My Abu owned a gold shop down the street and Ammi had a beauty parlor just across our home. My brother Nawab helped Abu in handling his business and I was the youngest and perhaps the most pampered one. My Abu always told me that I was Allah’s child and Allah will never let anything happen to me.

I was sitting in my room playing with my toys, Nawab and Abu had just got back from the shop and suddenly we heard a loud noise. I peeped through the window and saw an angry mob with torches and weapons charging into the Alleyway, burning and slaughtering everything that stood in their way. Abu hurried into our room and told us to hide as quickly as possible. My brother Nawab immediately lifted me up and hid in the cupboard, Ammi ran up shouting Jamaal Run!!! Nawab!!! After that, we did not hear from her.

Abu barricaded our room with whatever he could find and told us to come out of the cupboard. He kissed us both in our forehead and told us to take care of each other, he told us to jump out of the window and run away as far as possible. Abu picked up my cricket bat and shouted run!!! Nawab carried me on his back and somehow we managed to get to the roof of the building. Through the roof, we heard the banging of doors, screaming sounds and at the end of it, we heard Abu’s voice shouting in pain. Nawab did not stop; we kept on running and saw that the mob was all over the place. The whole Gafar Alleyway was on fire and our home was gone. Nawab’s leg slipped and he fell from a three-storey height right into the fire. I was traumatized but I did not think of it and kept running. I ran and I ran until I saw a Madarsa - A boarding school for orphans.

Today sixteen years later when I visit Gafar Alleyway. It is constructed back in the same way and it is all normal again but for me, nothing will be normal ever again. The moment I enter the alleyway I can see my dead brother standing right in front of me. I can still smell the blood of my family and friends who died in the riot that day. As I head further I could hear the same screams that I heard back then, the place had lost its purity and lost me as well. I had died that very day and the person living right now is just the soulless body.

This story does not support any communal agendas or support any creed or caste. It is simply in support of humanity and peace.