His nerves were on the edge with fear as he sat in the compartment, in a covert position. There had been riots in the city for the last four days. The curfew was lifted for a few hours in the morning and in the evening. The city was abounding with instances of stabbing, mass-fires and unabated violence. Newspapers and radio commentary continuously announced that the situation was under control, but in reality the city could be officially labeled as a fiasco.
In order to prove that the situation was normal, trains had begun to run the previous day. Undecidedly, Yasin had jumped onto the first train that entered the compartment, which was completely empty. He immediately regretted his decision as he saw the shape of a burly man, with the same look of as that of a felon emerge from the other end. He crouched beneath the nearest seat so that the man could not see him. The guy looked around, walked over to the end of the compartment and stood near the door.
The train crossed a station at Jogeshwari . If it had stopped, Yasin would have got down. Yasin looked around , two doors at the opposite end were shut . There were only two exit points, first where the man stood and the second opposite it. The man looked around and his gaze settled for long time in the direction Yasin was hiding, which intimidated him further. Abruptly, the man shut the door where he stood. Just one exit point left. Yasin thought of making a dash. But the gap between the man and the opposite door was too modest for an escape; the man could easily grab and stab him or shoot him. After several minutes, the train stopped at the Bhayander Bridge. The man approached the only door left to shut it. Now all the routes of escape were being closed. In any case, there was the river down below. He would certainly be killed if he jumped. There was no other option left. Showing his agility, Yasin jumped from his hiding place, shouted , “Ya Ali”, grabbed the man’s legs and threw him out. As the man fell, Yasin heard him scream , “Allah”.
Yasin stood still. The guy was also Muslim, but it had to happen that way, Yasin thought to himself, he had no immediate proof of being a Muslim himself. But deep down he saw the absurdity of all the religious violence that shrouded the city: he had killed his own brethren, he had sinned against his own community. At last, he saw how he had become a pawn in the game of fear being played out by others.
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