Remembering the Bombing of the Indian Embassy
KABUL, AFGHANISTAN: A sharp sound shook the ground and the walls of the building, and then a thick cloud of smoke and dirt burst into the room and tossed people in different directions. I heard them screaming and through the smoke I could see them scrambling to save their lives. Without thinking I found myself running with several others. We reached another room, which was full of people pacing around impatiently or standing with their back to the wall and looking nervously at the door. We waited there.
No one was saying anything. We all just looked at each other. I noticed that many had a strange anxiety in their eyes. Nobody knew anything and nobody asked anything. We were just waiting; I don’t even know why. We waited and the silence became stifling.
Suddenly a woman who stood beside me broke the silence with her scream. She shouted her son’s name. When she said her son was outside her voice trembled and her whole body shook. She ran out of the door and returned, several times, again and again. Then she stopped and cried loudly in front of everyone. We watched her sadly, not knowing what to do.
When two men with blood on their faces and shirts entered the room the woman stopped crying. No one said anything and once again a heavy silence descended on the room, covering us like a blanket, making it hard to breathe. A policeman also walked into the room and he ordered everybody to get out and proceed to the right.
We obeyed sheepishly. We all rushed to the door at the same time and got stuck pressing against one another. The crowd pushed to get past the door and the glass on the top part of the frame cracked and fell on our heads in small shards.
When I finally made it outside I saw the blackened side of the building, and more smoke, dust, and broken glass, and police cars and ambulances, and more injured people leaning against the walls. All I could hear was wailing, screaming, and shouting, and the sirens of the ambulances and police cars.
I walked fast on the small, sharp pieces of glass, which looked to me like a white sparkling carpet. I walked until the street turned brown and dusty again, and found myself amidst a crowd of bystanders. They welcomed me with sorrow and incredulousness but I continued walking. I turned around once or twice and only then did I understand that a bomb had exploded in front of the Indian Embassy.
I got into a taxi. As soon as the car began to move I felt happy but whenever the car had to slow down because of the crowd I felt worried, nervous, and vulnerable. There was something inside me that didn’t want to let me listen and didn’t want to make me talk.
I wanted to yell to the driver: “Go Fast! Go as fast as possible! Go anywhere you want but take me away from this place!” But I remained silent.
Soon enough the car was moving fast through the streets of Kabul and I felt relieved. I could taste life running through my veins, raw and powerful. And for the first time it became clear to me why so many Afghans dream of living abroad. Why should we stay in Afghanistan when it hurts us so much?
[Editor’s Note: The July 7, 2008, bombing of the Indian Embassy in Kabul killed 58 people and wounded 140. It was the deadliest attack on Kabul since the ousting of the Taliban regime.]
February 3rd, 2010 at 3:47 pm
Hey, why don’t you people mention that it was Pakistan’s ISI that bombed the Indian Embassy?
February 4th, 2010 at 3:07 pm
It’s true, the Pakistani intelligence agency helped plan this attack.
See this article from the New York Times: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/01/world/asia/01pstan.html
February 12th, 2010 at 5:20 pm
Let me tell you, you cannot always trust what American newspapers and U.S. officials say. Pakistan has had a long and difficult relationship with the United States.
March 10th, 2010 at 4:11 pm
but how can we trust what would be said on the matter from pakistan? pakistan has also had a long a difficult relationship with India, no?