The siege

It all started when Delhi, as the media had put it, was under siege. A young writer who was also into freelancing, Abhimanyu could not stop himself from rushing to India gate where a fierce gun battle between the terrorist and the security forces was still raging on.

India gate, like the country itself, had been a witness to many a different vibrant colors. It was a place which saw everything and had seen everything. The peace march, the solemn martyr remembrance, the glory of Republic day, the display of awareness for many a human rights spirit. And now a mindless gun battle. The end of which will be culminated by bodies and blood.

In spite it being a Monday morning, the black and yellow autos synonymous with the streets of Delhi were missing. He decided to walk. The presence of the khaki clad police personnel in the sprawling greens had increased, but the morning joggers with shapes of various contours were missing. The vibrant Delhi was now transformed into a vulnerable child. The silence was strange yet peaceful.

The tranquility was suddenly shattered by the hoarse sound of a security man who was vainly trying to stop a girl from jumping over the barricades that were erected to stop people like her from going too close to the actual spot where the firing was still going on.

The girl was in a white colored suit, with a red duppata that draped her head. An identity card swinging from her neck proclaimed her as a journalism student and read “Meghna”. Nothing was too striking about her, except, perhaps her voice, which was too intense, completely in contrast to her fragile appearance. Abhimanyu had no intention of meddling into what was happening and he deliberately changed his direction so as to avoid the ‘argumentative Indians’.

Soon he was where he wanted, behind a police Gypsy, from where he could get the perfect view to observe and to write, a spot, which could justify the use of word ‘on-the-spot- reporting’ which he would use in his blog. The sound of gun fire had decreased, a sign that the final stand was being taken up by the terrorist who were holed up inside the secured perimeter.

A flock of pigeon flew over the large monument as a loud blast echoed through the area. The earsplitting sound made him loose his ground and he fell. The fall was interrupted by another body; that of a girl whose head was covered by a red duppata. As both flirted with the last few moments of their life their eyes met for the first and the last time. And then without any protest their eyes closed.

The siege had ended.