The Explosive Diwali

Delhi is the heartbeat of this country. It's geographically tiny, but the way it opens its arms to embrace anyone who wishes to call it home is magnificent. Can you imagine what would happen to our country if its heartbeat stopped for a minute?

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It's Diwali season again. People flock to markets to buy sweets, clothes, and ornaments. The festival is here- merriment seems to be brewing everywhere. Each street is brightly lit, except, darkness still torments the worlds of those who lost their loved ones in that ill-fated Diwali season.

No one could've imagined that the heartbeat of the nation would suffer a stroke that would jolt the country for years to come.

On 29th October, 2005, two days before diwali, people were busy eating gol-gappas and buying sweets. After all, evening time is leisure time. The people coming back from the office stopped for a quick bite and to take something home for their families. Everyone was waiting to reach home safely. It's Diwali after all, there's so much to do, everywhere to be.

But in a twisted turn of events, 63 people did not make it home that day. Some were with their families when it happened, while others were hoping to greet their families.

Instead, people had swarmed around the Safdarjung hospital, AIIMS RML, and Lady Hardinge hospital, running frantically to reach their loved ones. A bomb went off at the railway station. Then another one went off near a bus in Govind puri. The final explosion happened in Sarojini Nagar. This time, the Diwali celebrations for those families would come to a halt.

Someone said they saw dead bodies strewn across the market, while others tried to pull out the live ones and rush them to the hospital. Someone was seen trying to help a burnt lady who was writhing in pain.

Another person recalled the hospital staff looking overwhelmed and shook, the children in the hospital looked for their parents only to realize they were now orphaned.

Families fought over the corpses, each hoping to get some closure. Even though knowing that your loved one is dead hurts, it hurts more to be uncertain if they're dead or alive.

Some bodies were so disfigured in the blast that the only way to identify them was through their identity cards, that is, if they had any.

It was supposed to be a busy shopping day just before Diwali. People had to come back home. Children had to hug their parents and decorate the house with them.

Here, closure was not enough. The city demanded justice. A series of synchronized bombings went off in Delhi two days before the biggest festival in the country.

Upon investigation, it was found that the bomb that went off in Paharganj was planted in a two-wheeler. The Govind puri explosion would've been a lot worse had the bus driver and conductor not taken timely action when they saw a suspicious-looking man leave a bag in the bus. They immediately asked the passengers to de-board the bus. The damage was minimized as they threw the bomb out of the bus. The final explosion took place in the Sarojini Nagar Market crowded with shoppers. Eyewitness accounts narrate that the bomb was planted in a white Maruti Van, and with the explosion, the car's windows also exploded.

Sketches of the suspects were released by the Delhi Police, and 10 people were detained. The Pakistan-based Islamist terrorist organization, the Islamic Revolutionary Front or Islamic Inquilab Mahaz boldly took responsibility for the blasts.

Tariq Ahmad Dar and Mohammed Rafiq Shah were arrested. They were later set free due to a lack of evidence. Even though the families of the victims received money from the government, a paltry sum or even a large one for that matter would never fill the void left by these explosions. An orphan would not care much for money to have no one spoil him. Parents wouldn't care for the money when they won't have anyone to spend it on. Spouses of the deceased would have to go on living with the traumatic memory that uprooted their lives.

What the families of the victims of these explosions wanted was justice. Justice that perhaps came in too late, and for some, never. It's been 16 years since that Diwali. People have now stopped waiting. They're tired, they're moving on- slowly, yet painfully, but steadily.

Children grew up without parents, parents got older without seeing their children grow up a little more, siblings wouldn't have the playful banter, spouses wouldn't wait for the significant other to return. But each time the doorbell rings or when Diwali is around the corner, a sad memory wafts up their corner, reminding them of what they lost.