I have seen dead people before.
I have seen them on television, on the news, on their deathbeds, with their loved ones carrying them to the cemetery. But I have never seen dead people like this. Mutilated, maimed and lying in pools of blood. I have never seen anyone die in front of me, say their last words, cry out for help, look at me with horror in their eyes, choke on their own blood, breathe their last, and die. Never.
But right now, they are all around me. Wherever I look, I see them. It's a gory sight. My head buzzes and I cry out for their pain and out of my own. My ears ring from the noise of the blast, my nose bleeds and I have vomited twice. I look around to see chaos all around. The images are blurred. All I can make out is red. Blood. Or black, from the ashes of what's burnt now-men, women, children.
There is blood everywhere. On the ground, on the bodies of people, on their lost body parts ... on me. It's mine and it's theirs. My skin singes and burns from the heat. It is red and slowly turns black and peels off.
I lean against a wall and struggle to maintain coherence. I can hear sirens blaring in the distance, people running, crying and howling. There is commotion everywhere, cars burn in the background, the fumes of burning tyres fill up the air, and people are running all over. Some of
them are carrying people in their arms. I struggle to keep my eyes open but they burn. I am covered in ashes and my head bursts as I look for my car. I cannot spot it. Not in the heap of mangled and charred remains of metal that lie in front of me. It is still hot and I can feel the radiation in my face. My neck hurts. I touch the nape of my neck-it is wet. There is blood on my fingers. I don't know whether it's mine or someone else's. My entire body aches and burns.
'ARE YOU OKAY?' someone shouts in my ear.
I feel like someone has put a hot iron rod in my ear. I stumble across some people stilled people, people writhing and moaning, dead people, people bleeding on the ground. I see bloodied faces all around, gravely injured, and they are shouting, screaming and pleading for help. I stumble over them and walk away from the site of the blast. I am helpless.
Where is Avantika?
Home, I guess. Where am I? I take out my phone and call her. 'Hello,' she says. 'Deb, where are you? I've been calling you ... There's been a blast in Chandni Chowk today, where-'
'I am fine,' I say and disconnect the call.
Things blur a little more. I pass out. The world becomes cold and dark. There is no pain. Am I dead?
