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Story: Pamela Sinha

Trauma
It is the same dark deserted hallway, the same silent walls amplifying the sharp intake of
her breath as she gasps in fear, the same fear of some faceless danger moving
purposefully towards her and the same agonized scream escaping her lips as it finally
catches up with her....

She woke up with a start, drenched in sweat and heart pounding wildly. The terror had
visited her dreams every night for the past month, forcing her to relive those terrifying
moments over and over again in an endless nightmare. Even the warm blanket she drew
around herself could not dispel the cold fear chilling her soul. As her eyes got adjusted to
the dark she began to make out the familiar outlines around her, the dressing table, the wall
board with her favorite pictures on the far end of the room and the computer desk with
Bonzo, the huge teddy bear occupying the revolving chair. Looking at Bonzo always tore at
her heart, yet she could not bring herself to lock up the cuddly bear somewhere out of sight.
It was her only link to an idyllic past, a past that now seemed to belong to some other
lifetime. It was the symbol of her despair and her hope, the herald of one life ending and a
new one beginning.

Slowly the terror was subsiding; her ragged breath was coming back to normal. She glanced
at the digital clock on the nightstand next to her bed. A gift from her brother, it was
registering the time as 4.13 am. She couldn’t remember when she had gone to bed; sleep
was no more than a mere closing of her eyes and waiting for the nightmares to end. Her
throat was parched but the last vestiges of fear were making her resist the urge to get out of
bed for a drink of water. Finally she steeled herself and slipping her feet into her bunny
slippers she padded down to the kitchen. A few gulps of ice cold water steadied her nerves
and alerted her to a faint rumbling in her stomach. A delicious looking slice of chocolate
cake tempting her from the refrigerator seemed just the thing to drive away the goose
bumps as well as to satisfy the untimely pangs of hunger.

As she dug into her cake, her thoughts wandered into nostalgic lanes. All the bitter-sweet
memories came flooding into her mind, her childhood, the growing up pains, fighting with
her younger brother over the window seat on the train, arguments with her mom on almost
everything under the sun and amidst all, her dad, her adored Bapi, her idol. An army
officer, he had been posted at many different places in India and she had had a blast
growing up in a variety of cultures. She became proficient in many Indian languages and
her keen interest in history was nurtured by her many brushes with the heart of India. Life
was a breeze and then one day everything came crashing down. Her Bapi was gone, slain by
enemies of the nation while defending his country. The long dreaded telegram came
bearing the news of her father’s death and changed her world forever.

With the passing of the sole bread-winner of the family, finances grew strained. After a few
years of scraping by she graduated and took up a well-paid and cushy job in Mumbai. She

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reveled in the hectic pace of the ever vibrant city and in spite of the high living expenses,
managed to put by sufficient money to send back home. Mumbai presented a new face of
life to her, a way of life she had never experienced before. Through her roommate she made
new friends, a group of girls and guys in their mid-twenties who, like her, were working
away from home. They had all adopted this city of dreams as a second home and few, if any,
had any plans of moving back to their hometowns. She soon fell in step with this young,
carefree set and, though ever conscious of her duties towards her family, began to really live
it up in Mumbai. Weekends were usually spent at nightclubs or discotheques and it was at a
party like this where she first met Sandy. Run into him was a more accurate way of putting
it as she had crashed into him on the dance floor. Sparks flew instantly and within a month
they were going steady.

The months that followed were the happiest of her life. Sandy was charming, sweet, and
funny and obviously adored her. He had even won over her mom and brother when they
had come to visit her in Mumbai. They were the perfect couple and their close friends
believed that wedding bells were imminent in the near future. To be sure, there were some
people who didn’t approve of this match. Her roommate had heard of some rather
unsavory, even nefarious incidents being linked to Sandy in the past and tried to dissuade
her from jumping headlong into the relationship. But it was too late for her to reflect and
act sensibly. She was in love, head over heels in love; she hotly defended Sandy, refusing to
even consider a single word her roommate said. The argument ended with her moving out
and taking up a new residence, cutting off all ties with her self-proclaimed well-wishers.

Life was beautiful with Sandy at her side. He was a thoughtful and romantic boyfriend and
was forever lighting up her life with beautiful moments. Soon the anniversary of their first
meeting came around. It was a Sunday and Sandy was coming over in the afternoon. She
had planned a romantic lunch for him and woke up early to prepare the same. While
whipping up some scrumptious dishes she reflected on the wonderful one year that she had
passed with Sandy. The hours ran by and by the time she finished there was only an hour
left for Sandy to arrive. She utilized the time in a leisurely bath and slipped on her favorite
summer dress. While combing her hair, she was interrupted by the doorbell. She looked at
her watch and was surprised; Sandy was generally very tardy.

On opening the door, instead of Sandy she saw the Resident Society secretary Mr. Patel and
his wife standing there. Masking her confusion she greeted them and invited them inside.
Once they were seated she offered them some tea and refreshments which they declined. By
now she was feeling slightly apprehensive seeing their somber faces; she recalled that some
of the society members had not been favorable to the idea of letting out the apartment to a
single, working female. However the actual purpose of the visit, when it was revealed,
knocked the wind out of her sails. Acting as a spokesperson in consideration of her gender,
Mrs. Patel conveyed to her that the society members had come to a decision to ask her to
refrain from entertaining male visitors. The reason cited was that ‘it would set a bad
influence for the children living in the complex’ but she heard the unsaid words and
realized it was not just any male visitor but Sandy who was the problem. Seething with rage
and humiliation she saw off her unwelcome visitors with a curt request to set up a meeting
with the other society members. Even after closing the door on them her anger did not

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abate and when Sandy arrived half an hour later he found her very much disturbed. Getting
the whole story out of her, Sandy felt sick. But instead of showing his feelings to her he tried
to cheer her up by happily abusing the self-appointed moral brigade. Yet, deep down, they
both knew the matter ran deeper than morality.

This was quite a dismal start to their special day. But being with your beloved is the perfect
balm for the hurt soul and very soon they cheered up. Sandy was overwhelmed by the
efforts she had put in and could find no words to express his joy. But it was ultimately she
who was left speechless when Sandy went down on his knee and asked her to marry him.
Tears welling in her eyes, she could only soundlessly mouth the word ‘yes’ as he slipped the
exquisite platinum ring on her finger. “We will get married as soon as possible”, he
whispered in her ear as he pulled her into his arms. She felt scared of her own happiness,
scared that she would wake up and find it all to be a dream only. But all her fears melted
away in Sandy’s passionate embrace.

The next day from office she called her mother to inform her of the happy news. Her mom
liked Sandy, so she had expected a warm response but was disappointed when her mom
remarked curtly that she didn’t know “things had gone so far between them”. “But Mom!”
she retorted, “You knew I was dating him.” “I know darling but I had rather hoped it would
somehow fizzle out,” sighed her mom. Then, checking herself, she added “Sweetheart, if you
are happy I have no objections. This isn’t quite the match I had envisaged for you but I am
happy for you.” Following her Mom’s lukewarm reaction she wasn’t feeling too enthusiastic
about informing others about the upcoming nuptials but she knew sooner or later she
would have to break the news. “Drat society,” she thought defiantly, “they cannot mar my
happiness now.” With a considerably lighter heart she got back to work.

They decided on getting registry done in Mumbai itself and in two months they found
themselves at the registrar’s office. In front of their friends and family they tied the knot.
Her mom and brother were present as were Sandy’s parents. Sandy’s mother, a shy
diminutive woman, fawned over her new daughter-in-law; his father was cordial but
pleasant. She had met them only occasionally in the past since they lived in Lucknow and
rarely visited Mumbai. Sandy was their younger son; his elder brother and sister both were
settled in Lucknow. Everyone seemed to be very happy and as for the bride and groom
themselves, they were on cloud nine. As she looked at her handsome husband standing next
to her it seemed as if all her dreams were coming true in front of her eyes.

After a weeklong honeymoon in Malaysia, the two settled down in matrimonial bliss.
Setting up home was an adventure in itself. Along with the sweetness of love came the
quarrels and compromises but that did not weaken their bond; on the contrary their
feelings only strengthened over time. Even the people who had written off this marriage
earlier were forced to change their opinion. The relationship had its foundation on trust,
love and a genuine respect for each other. They accepted each other’s individuality and
were like a team; one always complemented and completed the other. For them, their
different outlooks towards life were that what kept their relationship flourishing and ever
vibrant; they genuinely learnt to love their spouse for what they were and not what they

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could be. Lost in the ups and downs of newlywed life, time flew by and very soon it was one
year since they had embarked on their new journey of togetherness.

On the morning of their marriage anniversary, she woke up with a strange sense of
foreboding. Normally she did not believe in premonitions but there was some niggling
sense of impending doom in her mind. Looking back she often wondered what she could
have done differently to avert the situation that followed. But it was idle reflection; she
knew she would have never even imagined what the day would ultimately bring. She firmly
pushed back her irrational thoughts and went about with her chores. It was a weekday and
they had office. They had planned a romantic dinner at night at their favorite restaurant. At
the breakfast table, however, they had a big fight on a petty issue and the day started with
Sandy storming out of the house leaving his breakfast unfinished. She also left for work in
sometime but her sense of unease seemed heightened. A fight was not a rare occurrence for
them, occasionally they did exchange heated words but it never lasted long. However, it
boded ill that such a big day should start on an inauspicious node. On reaching office she
called Sandy to make up but got his voicemail instead; he was busy in an all day meeting.

All day she could not concentrate on her work what with the conflicting emotions of
happiness and apprehension running through her mind. Around 5pm when Sandy called
her, he still sounded in a bad mood. “I am thinking of leaving in sometime, what about
you?” he asked. She also decided to call it a day and they decided to meet at Mahim station
around 6.30. It was about fifteen minutes from her office so she calculated she could leave
by the time Sandy left from Churchgate and reach well in time. However, she did not count
on running into a friend who detained her for quite a long time, at the end of which she was
running late. She quickly hailed an autorickshaw and set off.

The auto set her down at some distance from the station because of one-way street
regulations. She hurried towards the station entrance pausing on the way to buy a bunch of
flowers for Sandy. As she paid the flower-seller, her cell phone rang; it was Sandy. “My
train is just pulling into the station. Where are you?” he asked. “I am just reaching,
sweetheart” she said “and ….” her words were drowned by a deafening noise, like an
explosion. Within seconds it was pandemonium as crowds of people started running helter-
skelter. There were children crying, people pushing and shoving each other, shouting out to
their friends and relatives and she was stuck in the middle, confused and bewildered. In the
chaos she heard two words that chilled her, “bomb blast”. All other thoughts fled her mind
and only one name remained on her lips, “Sandy”. Automatically she started running
towards the station, unsuccessfully trying to make her way through the throng of people
crowding out. Suddenly she felt a violent push from behind, lost her footing, fell down and
the world went black.

She opened her eyes after many hours to the grim whitewashed walls of a hospital. For a
moment she was disoriented, and then the events at the station came rushing back to her.
Her terror escaped her through hysterical shrieks as she desperately called out to Sandy.
One of the nurses came rushing over to give her a sedative but she vehemently refused.
Finally the nurse got her to a phone where she frantically tried Sandy’s number but got it as
unreachable. She then tried calling her mother; the phone was picked up on the first ring.

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“Shalu, thank God it’s you!” were the first words out her mother’s lips. “I was going crazy
with fear after seeing the news. Where are you? Are you safe? What about Sanad?” At the
mention of Sandy’s name she burst into tears. “I don’t know, Ma, I don’t know where he is,”
she sobbed, “I don’t even know what happened!” From her mother she got the horrifying
details, consecutive bomb blasts within a span of half hour had occurred on trains on the
Western line. July 11th 2006 was going down in history as a day when terror struck the
lifeline of Mumbai.

Her mom asked her the details of the hospital and told her to stay put. Her uncle lived in
Mumbai and on getting the hospital information from her mother, he rushed right over. He
tried to convince her to go to his house while he searched for Sandy but she refused; she
had to find him. Accordingly they got hold of a policeman there and got the details of the
hospitals where the injured had been taken. She had already checked for survivors in the
hospital where she was, now with her uncle at her side she dared to go look in the morgue.
Clutching his hand tightly she walked down the cold, dark forbidding corridor where the
stench of death seemed to permeate through the very walls. As one by one the bodies were
uncovered she felt the bile rising to her throat. Death had touched the young healthy bodies
that now lay alone and unclaimed in such a grim place. With every step she prayed she
wouldn’t have to see her husband here and breathed a sigh of relief when the last body
turned out to be someone else. But it was only one hospital; before the night ended they
had searched in two more hospitals. Their search ended in the wee hours of the morning as
another dark forbidding passage led her to a stretcher with Sandy lying silently in eternal
rest.

The days that followed were the darkest of her life. Too dazed to even cry, she wandered
through her mother’s house like a zombie, trying to understand the events that had
snatched away her life in a blink of an eye. She shut herself from all friends and relatives;
her mother was in despair. All night long she lay blankly on her bed clutching Bonzo, the
teddy bear which had been the last gift she had got from Sandy. The few moments of sleep
she got were wracked with terrifying nightmares. Her grief at losing Sandy and the regret
for not being able to make up that last fight with him were the trauma that she had to live
with for the rest of her life. What did anyone get out of murdering hundreds of innocents in
the name of religion and country? What did they get out of destroying the dreams and
hopes of the multitude who were now bereaved because of such attacks? She thought of her
husband, Sandy or Sanad Hussain. He had faced suspicion all his adult life because of his
Islamic heritage; though his family had lived in India for generations they were outsiders in
their own homeland. She remembered the objections of her family to their marriage just
because she, Shalini, was Hindu and Sandy, Muslim. All his life he had faced
discrimination. But death does not make any discrimination; it just smites all who comes in
its way. The terrorists didn’t care whether their bombs killed a Hindu or a Muslim, all they
wanted was to strike terror in the hearts of one and all. And they left behind them hundreds
like her who would have to spend the rest of their lives without the person who was the
centre of their world.

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Pamela is a software engineer working with Wipro Technologies
and settled in Mumbai. A native of Calcutta, she is an avid reader
and enjoys penning poems and short stories as a hobby. She is
looking to hone her writing skills and hopes to publish her writings
someday.

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