My alarm had already beeped twice, and was beeping for the third time, when realised that I was already 10 minutes late. I got up hurriedly, brushed, bathed (more of a ritual than a daily chore), ate the breakfast hurriedly and clumsily, got out of the house and entered the elevator. Once I was on the ground floor, my restlessness was converted into a calm and composite stride. I didn’t want the others to know that I got up late.
As usual, I was the first guy on to arrive at the bus stop. My bus stop was sandwiched between a park and a “Mother Dairy” milk parlour. Two of the most liveliest places in the morning. Gradually, other children started arriving. Everyone had a test, so they were all busy revising their last minute notes. I had a maths paper, and it was always a cake walk for me. Moreover, whenever I revised my last minute notes I ended up messing up my paper.
Finally, the bus also arrived. We boarded the bus. The walk from the door to the back is like a flashback. You can see the children of lower grades doing things that you used to do at their age.As you move forward they get older and older, until you arrive at your own seat. The children had their books open and were discussing everything except what was there in the book. If a child ever thought that he would study a chapter in the bus then, he ended up leaving its questions in the exam. I also joined one such conversation.
Finally, the school arrived. We got off the bus. There was the usual guard checking the I- cards.
“Wear your I-card around your neck.” He yelled towards me.
I pulled my I-card out of my pocket, pretended to wear, but put it in the other pocket. I didn’t like wearing it, it was a way too small for me.
I reached the examination hall. My friends were already there. On seeing me they yelled, “here comes the topper.”
“Topper! Me?” I replied, “I haven't studied a single minute for the test.” “ But still will get a 100.” Said Naina Gupta. The girl who sat behind me.
I smiled, put my bag down and joined them. The most fascinating thing about my group was, that we could have a two hour discussion on absolutely nothing.
“Today is our last exam.... What will you do after this?” Asked Deepali Srivastava, my best friend.
“Nothing, I’ll just eat, study, sleep, repeat.” I replied.
“ You won’t change , will you?” She remarked.
“ Why should I?” I replied.
“ Why cant you just be normal?” She asked, a bit irritated.
“Well, because a wise man said ‘in order to succeed, you need to stand out of the crowd'” I replied, with a grin on my face.
She wanted to say something, but was interrupted by the entry of the invigilator. We returned to our seats. The greatest bane for my class mates was that there were 12th graders sitting besides us. My class was full of professional cheaters. I was usually the source.
My maths teacher was extremely strict. She always cut my marks for not writing the steps properly.
“ You should think that the examiner doesn’t know anything” she used to say. I used to laugh at this, thinking’ how could someone check the paper if he/she doesn’t know
anything.’
But, this time I was determined that I would write so elaborate answers that even R. D. Sharma wont be able to cut a mark. With this in my mind I finished my 32 page main answer booklet in the first hour and asked for the supplement. Students were staring at me in amazement.
By 10:15, I had satisfactorily finished my paper. At around 10:30, when I was revising my paper for the third time, or at east pretending to do so in order to show some answers to Naina, the emergency sirens started wailing.
Everyone cursed the principal for conducting an emergency drill in the middle of an exam. Even the invigilator was perplexed.
We slowly got up and advanced towards the door. Deepali, Naina, Qasim, John and I went to the washroom, which was our usual hiding place at such times. We didn’t want to go to the ground and then return, for no reason.
We were discussing about the exam, when suddenly there were loud bangs. I stood up on the basin slab and looked out of the ventilator. The scene was terrific.
Three gunmen wearing pathani kurtas and black turbans were firing their AK-47s in the air. I got down and told the others. I was too pale to be joking. They all got up to see.
The terrorists might have thought of killing us in the classrooms itself. But, the scene of students moving out gave them a new idea. The idea of mass open massacre in the ground. They started pushing the children. We allot down, and were shivering, not from cold but from terror.
“ What should we do? I don’t want to die.”said Deepali.
“Even I don’t want to die but, what can we do, we don’t have weapons. We are helpless.” Said Qasim.
“ Guys clam down.” I said “ if we don’t do something now, then sooner or later they are going to find us and kill us all”
“ What if we are unable to stop them?”asked John. “ It's better to be a martyr than to be a victim.” I replied. For the next few minutes, we made an action plan.
“ Will this work?”Qasim asked. “ It should.” I replied. “ What if it doesn’t?”asked Naina. “ Oh, shut up! It will.” Exclaimed Deepali.
Qasim got up to see what was the status outside. Now, only 2 terrorists were visible, maybe the third one was already in the ground. Of the two others, one was on our floor and the other was on the floor above.
Our floor was almost empty, but the top floor has some half a dozen classes left.
As the terrorist approached the washroom on our floor. We banged the door. The terrorist turned and slowly moved towards us. He looked suspicious, but was not defensive. Maybe he thought that a bunch of kids could cause him no harm.
He entered the washroom. I was standing on the slab, sticking to the wall that housed the door. He went ahead without noticing me. Deepali closed the door behind him. I threw my blazer on him and jumped. My knees smashed into his head. He fell down with a thud, and I fell nearby. A painful tinge erupted in my legs. The terrorist’s finger pressed the trigger instinctively and bullets went in all directions. John kicked his hand hard and snatched the AK-47.
The terrorist was in great pain. His cries were a proof of that. John pointed the gun to his head, but didn’t have the guts to shoot. I could see his hands trembling.
“ Shoot him! What are you waiting for? Just shoot.”cried Qasim.
With his eyes closed and head turned the other way, John shot three bullets. The recoil was so intense, that the gun slipped from his hands and landed near me.
Fortunately, the terrorist was dead. We turned the body. The sight was so horrific that Deepali instantly ran to throw up. His mouth was full of blood with a few teeth hanging
loose. His eye balls were pale white and were turned upwards. A bullet had traversed all the way through his skull and was penetrating from his forehead.
I immediately turned him around. When my focus shifted, I could hear faint sounds of sighs as if someone was in pain. The terrorist was too dead to do so. Qasim was near the sink helping Deepali, John was strange blankly at the wall, maybe in shock. Oh no, where was Naina. I turned around and saw her sitting near the door, with one hand on the other hand’s elbow.
Her shirt was red. This wasn’t good. A bullet grazed her elbow and around half a centi-meter of her skin was scraped. The wound wasn’t serious, but a lot of blood was flowing. I tore a part of her sleeve and wound it as tightly as possible around her elbow. Meanwhile the others joined. Qasim went to see, what was happening outside. Only two classes were left on the top floor.
We decided to send Naina and John out of the premises, to call the authorities and get medical help. But, this could not be done instantaneously, we needed a diversion. Qasim checked the magazine, there were 12 bullets left. There was a pistol and three grenades also. Qasim ran up to the class in front of us and took his position there. When the other terrorist got down the flight of stairs, I pulled the grenade and threw it towards him. It blast off some 5 metres away from him had virtually had no effect on him.
He turned towards us, we shut the door. He started advancing towards us. This time with a defensive position. As soon as he reached the door Qasim fired from behind until his magazine’s empty. I waited to see if the terrorist was alive. but he didn’t seem so. so, I got out.
“ Is he dead?” Asked Qasim “ It seems so.” I replied.
Meanwhile John and Naina ran towards the back gate. Qasim took the spare magazine and reloaded. Initially the gun jammed but at last it fired. Deepali took the other AK. Whereas I took the MTX pistol.
I ran and joined the line of students who were moving towards the ground. Meanwhile Qasim and Deepali ran towards the auditorium to take their positions on the roof. The students ahead of me wanted to run away.
“ No! Don’t run! the other terrorist will get a hint.” I said . “ This is our chance. Let us get away. We don’t wanna die.” One of them said. “ Don’t worry. Nothing will happen to you until I am alive.” I reassured them. “ How will you save us?” Cried another.
I took out the pistol from my blazer and cocked the first bullet into the barrel. The students seemed satisfied and we continued. The terrorist was standing at the edge of the playground, observing the children as they assembled. He was physically much more stronger than the others.
As we moved. He stopped one of the students and asked, “ Why did you stop on the way? Should I drill a hole in your head?” “ I was tying my laces” the child replied in a whisper. “ I will strangle you to death using those laces” the terrorist replied, signalling him to move forward.
His eyes were again fixed on the premises looking for his partner. As I crossed him I turned arrow after a few steps. I saw Qasim and Deepali on the roof of the auditorium.
I took out the pistol and fired a shot. The bullet hit his hand and he dropped his rifle. I tried to fire again, but the gun jammed. I tried to run away. But the terrorist took out his own hand gunned shot me in the left leg. I fell on the ground. I was in great pain.
The terrorist advanced towards me. It seemed as if his hands gave him no pain. Qasim and Deepali fired, so the terrorist dropped his gun and ran towards me. He knew they won’t shoot if he was near me.
Meanwhile , I gestured the assembled crowd to run. He didn’t seem to care. I had become the first priority for him.
I tried to move back. But he was too fast. He kicked me at my wound and I cried in pain. “ Get up! Come on, get up! You wanted to kill me? Come on, save your school.”
“ I.... al.... already.... did. ” I sighed.
He grabbed my throat and picked me up. I was dangling in air, grasping for breath. I pressed the bullet in his hand, sending it a centi-meter inside. He cried and left my throat. I tried to catch my breath.
Before he could retaliate, I puled the pin from one of the grenades on his chest belt and leapt in air, with all my might. There were three blasts in succession. I could feel my body burn. I landed hard on the ground. Everything became dizzy.
Qasim and Deepali came down running .
My whole back was burnt and my brain was going numb with pain. Deepali sat besides me, there were tears in her eyes. “ Go get the medics. Fast!” She yelled towards Qasim.
“ You think you saved the school and can now leave us here. You selfish boy, I won’t let you die. I am the one who will kill you. I am the one. No one else. No one. ” she cried thumping her fists on the ground.
At a distance I could see the blurry images of men running towards me. I put my head down and closed my eyes.
I woke up 7 days later in the ICU. There was the periodic beeping of the heart monitor. A number of tubes and wires were attached. I was on the life support. There was no one around. So I started shaking. A nurse came running. “ Oh my god! He is awake!” She cried. She called the doctor and he arrived in almost no time. He was perplexed to see me awake.
“ This is impossible! How could he revives soon?” The doctor said astonished.
I gestured him to remove the pipes, as they made me uncomfortable. He did so. I had a little difficulty in breathing. My ribs ached every time I inhaled.
Then suddenly I realised something was wrong. I couldn’t feel my left leg. “ My leg!” I whispered. My vocal cords were almost jammed. The doc became serious. “ when you arrived here, you were unconscious and were breathing very slowly. Your left was brutally bruised and your nerves were permanently damaged. In that case your foot would have rotten. Thus we had to remove it, in order to contain the infection. We have ordered the prosthetic leg, it will be here in a week. Moreover you had very serious burns in more than 60% of your body, so you have undergone a skin transplant. Would you like to see yourself?” He replied.
I nodded. He brought a mirror. My complexion had changed from light brown to wheatish. Hard for me to accept, but I got used to it.
Meanwhile my parents arrived. There was a long moment of silence before they said something. A number of visitors visited me that day.
The next time I saw my friends was on the Republic Day while receiving the Ashoka Chakra. Today I sit in my study with my mechanical leg ( after all there should be some advantage of me losing my leg. and, the prosthetic leg made it look more disadvantageous) remembering those days of bravery and ponder on how afraid I am of DEATH.
-The End ~