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Woh 7 Din(Those Seven Days)………

Those seven days of my life that passed between the dead and the wounded

|| Anjan Kumar Samal

Difficulties do arise those out of imagination when a reporter pen down a real story which passes through dead bodies laying as if street garbage.

The write up that passes through the screams in the hospitals.

The write up that brings the ocean of tears with a mindful fear.

Read this story in which Hospitals that are meant for treatment even looks injured.

photo credenglish

A reporter writes what he sees in front!

Those Seven Days…..in which dead bodies found in the area of communal violence as if laying alike piles of garbages.26th Feb 2020 morning which is the most unfortunate day of my entire life. There were as many as 30 dead bodies in the mortuary. Many people gathered there were crying loudly in the fear of loss of their own blood.

Anwar, who was living in Shiv Vihar, first beaten, then attacked by a sword and then burnt in fire and consequently only two of his legs left in the place of the corpse.

photo credit-livemint

In another such incident, Ankit Sharma, an IB soldier also attacked, killed and thrown into the gutter as if the land of no law and order.

Here the big question does arise?

Who was killed, Either Hindus or Muslims, But I must refer this to the heinous killing of mere Humanity.

Hundreds were killed and thrown into the drain both from the Hindu and Muslim communities alike unwanted human assets those who were living under the cloud of unemployment.

Let’s know about Premkant, his adventure and humanity caught everyone’s attention. Astonishingly, he was burned to save the Muslim family near his residence. In this riot, mostly those who were workers used to work in dyeing and painting work in this area of the national capital.

The grief of the people’s relatives who were killed and many people were roaming around also taking pictures of their loved ones laying on grounds without their living soul and heart.

Photo credit-the print

Among the dead were children, young men, including an 85-year-old man was also dead unfortunately in which many even burnt inside their own houses,

That place was the riot-affected area of ​​North East in the national capital of India.

How difficult it is for a journalist to write news that has gone through the corpses. Those who scream in the hospital. Those who shed tears in front of many live cameras without their willingness to do so.

It is also out of any one’s imagination to experience the pain which even the hospitals have seen out of control who were treating injured victims of this uncalled communal riots.

Photo credit-Hindu

 Those seven days, where dead bodies were piled up. Bursting wounds, corpses running on stretchers.

This place was GTB Hospital in North East Delhi. For the first time, I realized how difficult it is to tell falling tears in words. Clothes mixed in blood. The eyes searching for our own people were also questioning us. The fire of violence had caused the scare that the dreaded sirens of the ambulance were ripping the eardrums. Asking the address of such a corpse along with another corpse would come from behind and stand in the queue.

I returned from my village on 24th February after a holiday. The news came that violence had erupted, rushing to the hospital for reporting. It was 7 in the evening. There was evidence of violent ridden patients at GTB Hospital.

Photo Credit-Deccan Herald

Wounded one after the other along with other people were coming to the hospital looking for their loved ones. But the searches were not completed, because they had become settled with their own world.

It was so frightening that after hearing everyone’s pain, it seemed that this is the last limit. But the pain used to break that limit which would come again.

The dead body of Delhi Police jawan Ratan Lal had arrived along with his family members were in the hospital. No family member was willing to talk to anyone.

The attendants of hospitals were carrying the injured with their arms and shoulders to the emergency. Many times, 4-5 bikes stopped and attendants fell short. I get scared after seeing the flow of blood and in between, I could not able to know when the injured persons were shot and taken inside.

Photo Credit-Business Standard

After a long time, I realized by seeing people crying. Then I took care of my reporting again. When the relatives questioned how they got injured, they used to scold their loved ones. The blood of the people of both religions was leaving marks of violence as the ground realities of this place. The dry blood was clearly visible in big balls of cotton.

The next day when I arrived back at the hospital, 100 injured were admitted and 5 corpses were kept in Mortuary. The pain and screams in front of the emergency ward were extremely painful to watch and observe.

Relatives of riot-affected victims were wandering around for information about the injured and the corpses of their own.

 

(News of Anup Pandey as Published in NBT, Translated by Anjan Kumar Samal

 

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