And Luck Runs Out...

Tringgg tringgg! Tringgg tringgg! The alarm clock on her bedside table rang. She turned in her bed and hit the snooze button. Her eyes still glued shut with sleep dust. Nine more minutes passed in silence. A bird chirped, a motorcycle passed by on the empty street where her house was.

Tringgg tringgg! Tringgg tringgg! This time her body jerked awake. Her hand which was still on the table, hit the clock again, but the clock fell and rolled away, still emitting the annoying sound. 

“Aaggghh!” She exclaimed sitting up on her bed, her feet dangling a few inches off the floor.  She went through her morning routine of ironing her clothes, brushing her teeth, taking a bath, brushing her hair and finally applying kohl in her dark eyes, the only makeup that she ever wore.

She gulped down a glass of lassi and took a banana to eat on her way to the bus stop.

Slowing her walk to a stroll, she let the fresh morning air evaporate the beads of sweat on her forehead and upper lip. Going through text messages that she had received while asleep, she saw a lone man coming towards her. She quickly stuffed her cell phone back in her bag. But the man passed her and she watched him, from the corner of her eye.

The public bus that went toward her college was the same. Overflowing with people, stuffy and stinky. The perfume she wore soon morphed into the smell of the people around her. She held on to her bag protectively while being wedged into two sweaty women. She found a seat in the bus. Must be a good day, she figured.

The noisy bumpy ride ended after the usual thirty minutes.  No quarrels in the bus today, she mused. She got off the bus across the road from her institute. Dodging speeding cars she crossed one of the main arteries of the city. Looking around the institute premises she saw her friends; their arms hanging around each others shoulders, cracking jokes, laughing at themselves and the occasional high fives.  She joined them and indulged herself in the chatter and gossip, when one of them reminded that they should probably be attending the class.

Collecting their bags, they got up, climbed the stairway to the third floor and sneaked into the classroom. They were late, as usual. Then she took her cell phone out again and logged into her facebook account. Who listens to these old outdated people anyway?

The class ended. The teacher passed by her, staring her down. Rolling her eyes, she ignored it completely. Two more classes then she’d be free.

She bunked the last lecture. They had plans. She and her friends took a bus towards a nearby shopping center. While in the bus they were constantly talking and laughing, attracting the gaze of fat unkempt men, their eyes telling their intentions.
Getting off the bus she saw a man lying on the footpath. Bending forwards, and clutching his heart as if it was stopping. His eyes were sunken; his cheekbones prominent, the vertebras of his back jutting out and irises glazed. Wonder what death feels like, she thought, it would definitely be better than this.

Scoring the market, she and her buddies bought two sandals, a lip gloss, a lawn suit, a blush, a bag and lastly hair accessories. Eating shawarma on her way back, she decided to take a rickshaw. Holding her hand out to a passing CNG rickshaw, she bargained the fare with the boy driving it. Sixty rupees it was. Placing her box of sandals and bag inside, she climbed in. Throwing a duppatta over her head, lest her hair might bother her, she wrapped it around her neck.

Opening her bag and taking her cell phone out again, she started pushing the buttons, texting those whom she had just said goodbye to. Absorbed in the texting, she barely noticed that the rickshaw was slowing down, until it came to a stop. She looked up to see a commotion ahead. A bus was on fire. A woman was running away from it dragging a boy with her. Men were panicking, running as if their lives counted on it. The rickshaw driver quickly turned the rickshaw around and hit the accelerator. In his panic he didn’t see the on coming car. The car screeched and hit the rickshaw sideways. The rickshaw toppled over. Her head hit something really hard, cutting her lip open and bruising her cheek. Her cell phone was crushed under the rickshaw.

She climbed out of the other open end of the rickshaw. The car that hit them was already reversing. She looked at the driver, his eyes were wide with fear, fixed at something behind her. Still dizzy from the impact, she turned around. That’s when she saw him.

The man was in a white shalwar kameez, a black handkerchief tied across his nose concealing half of his face and a black shiny klashinkoff in his hands. She took a few steps back in shock. Then as her instincts set in she ran as hard as she could. Tripping over a footpath, she ran towards the shops that were built on both sides of the road. She still felt dizzy. Her vision blurred.

She turned around to look for the shooter. He was heading towards the rickshaw. The driver was still in it. Shots were fired. Then suddenly there was a sharp scream from behind her. A woman was screaming on top of her lungs and looking towards the bus from which a man had just exited. He was on fire.

 She remembered something from last night’s dinner around the dinning table. Her father had mentioned a little about clashes between the Pukhtoon and Muhajirs. Bah! She had thought then, who gives a damn! Its not affecting me.

She was  a muhajir. And her brown skin labeled thus, testified.   

Running aimlessly, desperate to get away from it all, somewhere safe, she was hit by a shockwave. A bomb had exploded right in front of her, throwing her several feet back into a wall. The shops were on fire where the suicide bomber had incinerated himself.

She blacked out.

She could still hear the distant screaming. Shrieking of sirens. What was happening? It was miracle she survived the blast. She tried standing up but her knees buckled.

 The first bullet hit the wall, she saw the cement burst into life. The second bullet again hit the wall, only closer.

She could sense his gaze. She looked up at the shooter. His face, a blur. Her eyes gasped in horror as she saw the third bullet shoot out the barrel towards her. She saw it in slow motion, it entered her abdomen, then another one and then another. Funny she didn't feel anything.
She smiled in relief as she fell back and closed her eyes. This is it. She felt something moist collecting in her navel and then dripping down leaving behind a red path on her brownish skin.
People surrounded her. She could feel them hovering around her but she couldn't quiet see their faces. All was blurred...