‘He was silent for over two months’

KARACHI: It took him over two months to speak coherently again. It was as if he just couldn’t; he would try and make a start, but soon his eyes would assume a discomfiting lost glaze as they settled into a mid-air stare while his words would simply trail off. For that period, he truly was just a shell of a person.

In an unwavering tone and his demeanour composed, Rajab Ali* recalls the days following the harrowing May 13, 2015 attack on a neighbourhood bus of Karachi’s Ismaili community. Among the 15 who survived – of a total of 60 passengers onboard the bus headed from Al-Azhar Gardens to Federal B Area – was Rajab’s uncle.

“It started off as just another day. I had reached my workplace and was settling down for the daily grind when the news started filtering in. It was a gutting feeling; I knew my uncle and other relatives were aboard and, with no way of knowing their fate, assumed the worst.” 

By the time Rajab reached the hospital, a steady stream of ambulances with flashing lights and wailing sirens was flowing in with the dead and injured. “There was mayhem at the hospital, but it soon became clear that most of the passengers were no more. We are a close-knit community so all of them were either relatives or neighbours,” he says in an almost unnaturally collected manner.   

Rajab concedes that his words today could never truly convey the shock he bore upon realising that his relatives and neighbours had been lost in such a senseless act of terror. 

“Honestly, I believe my words cannot justly communicate the overwhelming emotions we felt not just as individuals, but as a community.”

“This was the first time our community had been subjected to an attack of such magnitude. We had never seen, let alone lived through, anything like it.”

As the days passed, the condemnations pouring in from across the globe eventually stopped, as did the official visits by dignitaries. Soon, the tragedy also fell down the pecking order for an infamously fickle media, as the much-touted security efforts initiated in the attack’s aftermath stole the spotlight. 

For Rajab and the others nursing wounded family members and friends, however, the trying times were far from over. Seeing his uncle’s disturbed condition, Rajab says he resolved to ensure that no efforts were spared in his rehabilitation, remaining personally involved throughout the process. 

Taking short breaks as he tries to collect his thoughts, Rajab narrates, “When the attackers came onboard and started shooting, my uncle fainted. The perpetrators even struck him in the head with a gun’s butt to check whether he was alive, but he was still passed out and they took him for dead.” 

“By the time he came to, the attackers were gone. However, what he saw upon regaining consciousness – the blood, bodies and hysteric survivors – left an indelible mark on his mind. For the next two-and-a-half months, he couldn’t speak properly, let alone smile. His face constantly bore a pained expression as if those scenes were being replayed over and over in his mind, being etched further in each time.” 

“Thankfully, though, with regular physical and mental therapy sessions, we soon started seeing signs of his old self again. Religion, too, was a source of solace and strength for him.”  

“Children, with their innocence and enthusiasm for life, also proved to be a key element in my uncle’s recovery,” adds Rajab, explaining that the family’s little ones helped take his uncle’s mind elsewhere by keeping him involved in games and pranks.

“Essentially, we did everything the doctors had advised. He was also taken to the United States for a change in surroundings. Thankfully, today, my uncle is at a stage where he is once again participating in community activities and is getting back to his daily routine.”

While Rajab’s uncle was amongst the lucky survivors, Sara’s* childhood friend, Tauseef*, couldn’t live to fulfil his mother’s dreams and expectations. 

An only son, Tauseef, was heading back to his home in Karimabad when the tragedy occurred. “He was to sit a Cambridge exam at the Expo Centre at 2pm that afternoon, but fate had something else in store,” says Sara. 

“I knew him since childhood and we had grown up together. We went to the same tuition centres and our group of friends was always together at our services. He was a lively spirit with a perpetual smile on his face, always up for helping others.”

“Tauseef’s enthusiasm for our childish games such as ‘pakram pakrai’ and ‘langi para’ was infectious. He was really quick and I was always an easy target for him. He made no secret of his love for food and, to this day, his favourite cuisines always remind us of him. Rather, there are still times when it seems that he is around us; for, after all, he continues to live on in our hearts and prayers.”

“It has been terribly hard to come to terms with his passing, even more so because he was just 17. As they say, life, however, simply keeps going on; perhaps, that is why we like to think that maybe we have all actually moved on,” says Sara, keeping her emotions in check.

Rajab’s composure, too, doesn’t falter as he speaks of what could have been the message behind the traumatic attack on his community. “This was a terror attack and the assailants’ sole aim was to terrorise us as a people. It is unfortunate that we still have such individuals among us who want to impose their beliefs on others, who still believe in labelling fellow humans as infidels.” 

“We strongly believe that all religions deserve to be accorded equal respect and that all individuals have the right to practice their religion without any fear. Those who support or perpetuate such attacks need to be condemned because all religions of this world preach harmony, peace and co-existence.” 

— Names changed to protect privacy

—Originally published in The News