“Faith is one of the forces by which men live, and the total absence of it means collapse.-I suddenly stopped flipping through the pages of a local newspaper, stared at the line which was aptly written for a disaster that happened a couple of years ago, bringing many lives, including mine, to a pause after which my life was unrelentingly subjected to an enduring metamorphosis by destiny.
It so happened that, on the 29th of July 2004, I proceeded to a friend’s place to meet his ailing mom. It had been almost a week since he started bunking lectures because he had to attend his mother who was suffering from leukemia. For Munaf, my friend and partner in the chemistry lab, his mother and younger sister were the only reason to remain alive because he had already lost his father some three years back and was callously deserted off his late father’s hard earned money by his own uncles. His mother however led her children towards a bright future by providing them the best of education and a sober upbringing even as she diligently slogged like an animal doing the oddest of jobs like washing dishes, clothes, sweeping floors at other’s place every morning, then doing a day shift at a building under construction and stitching clothes at nighttime. She endured all the misery and sufferings caused by destiny with only one hope that –once her children grow up as successful contended professionals, all her hardships will bear fruits and they all will live a happy life once again.
Anyways, I traversed through the filthy by lanes with poor sewage system, jumping across the gutters, shooing stray dogs, asking the shopkeeper for direction along with curious slum dwelling women staring at me as if I was an unseen creature; and finally reached the three storied shabby building where Munaf lived. The building’s narrow entrance led me to the dark staircase which had a stench because of the over-littered garbage bin and paan spits around the pillars. Munaf’s destitution wasn’t obscure to me but coming across such an unforeseen hardcore reality made me thank God for whatever I had. Thus, covering my nose with a hanky, I quickly ran up and reached the second floor where he was already talking to a neighbor and he was taken aback with my surprise visit. He welcomed me to his disheveled home with not a single line of embarrassment on his forehead and after introducing me to his mom, ran out to fetch a cold drink for this guest. Meanwhile, I tried to be my formal best while talking to his mother and sister, along with behaving sensibly so that they don’t feel intimidated by my well off persona.
It had been some half an hour or so when I started sensing some tremors in the floor but couldn’t understand what was happening and plainly waited for Munaf’s return so that I can give him some of my notes that’d help him to study at home. He came back running and frantically yelled,” Be quick, leave the premises right now!!!” but before we could act upon his words, there was an uproarious thud and I didn’t know what happened next. When I opened my eyes, I couldn’t see anything, not even my hands but knew I was buried deep underneath. For once, I thought my breathes had betrayed me and that I was lying in my grave but when I turned my neck with a lot of effort, there was an old lady besides me who was constantly worried about her grandchildren. Then I realized that the sleazy building had collapsed and we were gasping for oxygen some feet below the debris. That was the most horrifying incident of my life; I didn’t know what to do and became hopeless of reaching out to life once again. Thus, the only seemingly possible way for me to kill the clasping fear was to talk with the lady—no not that I wanted to bolster the stigma about every woman’s chatting habits but with that, I expected to remain reposed and encourage the other lady to have faith in God.
I kept talking for more than an hour only to realize that the lady, owing to the suffocation and distress, had at last surrendered to death. This aggravated my predicament as now I laid next to a corpse and despite countless assurances to myself, death seemed inevitable. But still,. I knew there was a reason if my life wasn’t snatched before that lady’s and that He’s the most Merciful thus, with that hope, trembling with fright but resolute of my faith in Him, I shrieked and called out to The Creator. This went for some hours and dejected of the engulfing trepidation, I was now ready to renounce my racing heartbeats that still had some impudence to His justice alive deep somewhere. Exhausted, I closed my eyes only to be awakened by the cacophony of the overwrought crowd, the bells of the fire brigade and the squawking of the rescue men. All at once, I felt myself getting richer by courage and hope. I was oozing with confidence and the utopia of reuniting with my family was viable. I screamed at the top of my voice to gain their attention but to no avail. After some time, I again yelled for help and finally I felt some steps nearing me and I thought I’d be rescued within minutes. But to my bad luck, they had seen the hands of the old lady and while removing her body from the debris, they engraved me deeper with all the bricks and dust. It felt miserable while being thwarted away from my goal. I went berserk and lamented at the thought of getting buried alive and envisaging my parents’ trauma after my death was just horrendous.
Luckily, some fireman heard me and he shouted out to his colleagues in Marathi. They all teamed up and started removing the debris above me. As they did their job, I felt dizzy and had no more energy to scream but could manage to mutter,” Help!” I don’t know what happened next as I fell unconscious and when I opened my eyes the second time, I had my parents wiping their tears before me.
After having gained enough energy to talk sense, I enquired about my friend Munaf and his family. I was told that his mother and sister were alive and recuperating at a Municipal hospital but Munaf had already left for his heavenly abode. His mother was still not informed about her only son’s untimely death! I don’t have the courage to envisage his mother’s reaction to this gruesome news because I myself still remain inundated with our memories in the chemistry lab –of stealing each other’s apparatus to show off the correct conclusion to the examiner or whooping at the sight of his love interest. It’s unimaginable for a friend in me to accept he’s no more, may God have mercy on his survivors.
Few years down the line, when I scan our newspapers flooded with innumerable stories of building collapses and breath taking death tolls of innocent people, I’m reminded of those horrible hours where I myself escaped the deadly clutches but my sweetest friend succumbed to them and it incinerates my heart with extreme animosity and vengeance against the government because of whose foolhardiness, thousands of young Munafs lose their lives every day and their poor parents, if alive, have nothing but memories enshrined within their hearts and tears for survival!!
-- Gulnaar. F Khan
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