Agony of a Bomb!!!

“Excuse me Sir,” one voice came as I was passing by a Railway platform.
I looked around, but found none.
“Help me,” came the voice again. The voice had pain and agony.
I scouted but to fail again.
“Where are you? Why don’t you come in front of me,” I hurled umpteen questions, wondered and curious.
“I am here in the trash,” shivering voice came. I could feel its pain; it wanted to cry but was somehow controlling itself.
I glanced around to find a trash on my left side with “I am Hungry, feed me!!” on it, and a black bag inside it.
I guessed that sound was coming from inside the black bag.
I opened the bag to find my eyes wide open, extremely shocked and stunned.

It was a bomb!!!

Next 2 minutes we had no verbal conversation but only eye talk. Then the bomb started with tears, tears starting from his eyes and covering the entire contour of his face, then hiccups and then blubbing.

Bomb is a very dangerous thing, but finding it crying isn’t something we get a chance to see very often.

“Wh…Wha….What are you doing here?,” I was getting apprehensive as soon as I was getting the realization that I was very near a Bomb, the RDX bomb which would explode to demolish everything all around.

“I am here to destroy this platform,” the bomb replied and started weeping again.
“But why?” I was scared now, still gathered my courage to ask.
“I don’t know,” bomb replied, and as usual kept crying.
“What the heck!! You are here to destroy this place, kill hundreds of innocent people, and you don’t know why you want to do so.” I shrieked my lungs out.

No response!! Only a few hiccups.

“Why this volte face. Why are you crying,” I questioned, re-questioned and then kept questioning till he started.

“Can you see that man standing there,” bomb pointed by his finger to show some 28-30 year old man.
“He is an army man, and is going back to his village after 6 months. He is the sole bread earner of his family and is going on a 15-day vacation to meet his old widow mother, wife and a daughter” bomb told in his usual piteous voice.

“Can you see that child playing there with plastic bag,” he showed another 3-4 year old baby kicking some plastic bag.
I nodded.
“That couple standing at a little distance from him are his parents. They have been blessed with this baby after years of prayers and wait. That innocent child will come to me also, and may kick me ignorantly to get his life ended.”

“See that coolie there. He is the sole earner of his family of 4 children and sick wife. That newly wed couple who are married for only a month now,” the list was endless.

“Ravi,” bomb addressed me.

I was somewhere in thoughts, but his address made me stare at him.
“I have to kill them all,” bomb’s voice was shivering but had firmness.

“Can’t you stop,” I requested.
“I wish I could. I wish I could explode to end my life in the hands of that bastard only who planted me here. I wish I could rip him apart into pieces,” the voice had wrath.

“But I couldn’t. And now, I have a dharma to follow. The dharma of my purpose. My reason of existence,” bomb said.
“Can’t this destruction end? Can’t people be allowed to live peacefully? In no panic?” I asked.

“Not until the time you will keep differentiating yourselves into Hindus, Muslims, or into other religions. Not until you will think beyond religion to find another religion Humanity. Not until fanatists realize that we bombs don’t look before exploding that we haven’t to harm people of their religion,” bomb had a point.

Bombs don’t filter that if fanatists of X religion have planted a bomb, then people of x religion won’t be harmed. They equally do it to X as they do to Y. Then why this volte-face by fanatists on the name of religion?

“Can you do me a favor,” bomb asked.
“Yes,” I nodded
“Please defuse me to end my life before I explode. This way I will get a sweet death. A death which every bomb wants- Death by defusion,” bomb’s voice was happy now as he knew he had got a messiah who would consummate him before he explodes.

“Good bye Mate,” bomb said last before I took his connections off to defuse him.

“Get up Ravi,” answering machine sounded. This was Rexy.
“Calling you for last 10 minutes, why don’t you pick up your phone,” she shouted.
God!! I was in a dream.
But dream had a point. I wish I could tell those fanatists that bombs aren’t like those fanatists. Fanatists might differentiate between Hindus and Muslims, but these bombs won’t.

For them they have only one dharma. To kill people, Hindus or Muslims or even Christians or Sikhs.

I wished that Fanatists could read this post to stop planting bombs, if not for me, then at least for people of their own religion.

Now as I hadn’t picked Rexy’s phone for 10 minutes, I will have to compensate taking her to Barista or Coffee Café Day.
You know these Girls!!!
Need a reason for free coffee!!!

I have just returned from Barista. It’s evening 8 when I am writing this post. Though I met that Bomb in my dream, but its helplessness, its tears, and its satisfaction to die before exploding are still vivid in my memory. Like we had really met!!