The rising sun brightens the bleak view. Fog covers the grief. Fresh air sweeps away the mixed smell of blood and explosives. Another day begins in Sehwan, the spiritual capital of Sindh.
The shrine of Sufi saint Lal Shahbaz Qalandar was washed and cleaned after it weathered one of the deadliest suicide bombings in Pakistan. Law enforcement personnel were busy securing the premises so the shrine could be reopened for devotees.
As we tried to figure out what went on around us, the tall and firm façade of the shrine told stories of death, despair, and defiance.
The beats of the Nagaara drum greet devotees at the Old Gate entrance of the shrine. Nagaara is beaten periodically as per the centuries’ old tradition. At dawn, the face of the drum is regularly heated on fire. The Mutawalli, the shrine’s administrator, says it improves the quality of the sound coming from the drum while it is beaten with two wooden sticks.
The beat carries devotees to the second entrance, a gigantic gate with calligraphy etched on top. It reads: “Usman Marwandi Lal Shahbaz Qalandar”. This is where the suicide bomber eyed his target.
The distance between the second entrance and the grave of Lal Shahbaz Qalandar is hardly 50 metres. When the sun rises, it raises the temperature but the Iranian tiles beneath your feet make it feel even cooler.
The central façade of the shrine is decorated with Sindhi kashi-tiles inlaid with mirrors. This type of architecture is the cultural identity of Sindh across the globe.
Blue, the colour of peace, dominates the design. Sadly, these beautiful tiles were painted with blood a day before. Their edges were still dark with the stubborn stains of flesh and blood.
The floor near the grave of Qalandar was damaged, except for the area where they found the suicide bomber’s footprints. The surrounding area was hollowed with pellets, which were filled in the bomber’s explosive jacket to multiply the impact of the blast.
Ceiling fans loomed underneath a huge doom. It appeared as if the thrust of the explosion had forced them to forget their own shapes.
The sight above was unsettling. The ceiling fans hung as high as 20 feet, but they carried a haunting reminder of the explosion with flesh and clothing dangling from their propellers.
A wooden frame guarded Qalandar’s grave, in front of which the suicide bomber detonated his explosives. The explosion was so powerful that it pushed the heavy frame a few inches away from its cement base.
As most other people visiting the tomb, the policemen guarding the shrine are also inclined toward mysticism. Even while on duty, like the devotees, they don’t wear their boots. One by one, they go in front of Lal Shahbaz’s grave to recite the Fateha several times a day.
“We saw corpses lying everywhere after the explosion. Blood stains…even on the ceiling. But the Dastaar (turban) of Lal Qalandar did not fall down. The wooden frame is also still intact,” said one of the personnel posted for guard duty at the shrine.
Twenty-four kilometres from the dargah, the air in Kher Muhammad village is heavy with mourning. The Outaaq is crowded with men while women sob inside a mud house.
Head Constable Abdul Aleem Panwhar, a resident of Kher Muhammad village, was among the police personnel at the shrine. Unfortunately, he was standing close to the suicide bomber on the evening of the attack.
Only a few parts of Panwhar’s body were found.
“My brother was deployed at the shrine for the last 18 years. He gave his life guarding others and not even the SHO bothered to attend his funeral,” said Fida Hussain, Panwhar’s brother, as his voice throbbed with pain.
His mother remained undeterred.
“I am proud of my son. If I had more [sons] in the police, I would have devoted them all to guard the nation,” she said.
But Mohsin, Panwhar’s eldest son, commented in a way nobody had predicted.
“I don’t want to join the police. I want to be a doctor so I can save dying soldiers and people.” His voice caught in his throat as his eyes welled up with tears. Mohsin could have not spoken more.
The sun is setting in the green fields of Kher Muhammad village. Eyes are wiped and tears are dried. The rose petals on Abdul Aleem Panwhar’s grave change their colour.
A day has passed in Sehwan for another to come. The blood stains may fade away but the memory of the 88 devotees will stay at the shrine of Lal Shahbaz Qalandar.
