The Lahore blast claimed some precious lives last night, taking away a bunch of law enforcement personnel. While we’re all grief stricken for the lives that are lost, there are those who are extremely lucky enough to have escaped the blast.
One such person who narrowly escaped the Lahore blast is Osama Zaman, a lawyer based in Lahore.
His office is near The Mall road where the blast happened and he was in the vicinity when the fateful blast occurred. Here’s his chilling story:
“I’ve spent most of my morning at my desk, staring blankly at the nonexistent shadows on my wall. And I can’t help but keep thinking: I shouldn’t be here.
After a long Monday, discourteous clients and overtime without getting paid for it, I piled into my car and prepared myself for the 80-minute journey home.
I had been hearing news about the traffic being in gridlock on The Mall the entire day. But there’s was nothing to be done so I crossed the High Court and turned right on The Mall. There wasn’t much out of the ordinary. Horns honked and people cussed. We crawled along, slow and steady. At about 5:50pm, I approached Charing Cross only to be greeted with a cordoned off road and diversion. I swore under my breath and took a right on to Queen’s Road.
It was exactly outside Goldsmith’s that I heard the sound. It was like a hundred thousand WAPDA transformers short-circuiting in the rain.
And then the aftershock. The ground rumbled beneath my car and the sky shook. I could only bring myself to look into my rearview mirror to see a cloud of fire and light engulfing the evening. The pitter patter of what I can only assume were severed limbs and bits of torn flesh ensued. And then the screams. The screams that wouldn’t stop. That haven’t stopped and are still ringing in my ears as I type this.
And again, I think: I shouldn’t be here. Had that asshole client who has embezzled millions left five minutes earlier. Had I not stopped to buy cigarettes on my way. What if I had delayed using the toilet till I got home? You probably would be sitting liking an “In Loving Memory” page instead of this post. I shouldn’t be here. But. I am so fucking lucky that I am here.
We live life every day, oblivious to these forces external to us.
Routine and desensitization has lulled us into this false sense of security. Never thinking twice before gathering publicly. Never taking your mother’s “Be safe, beta” every time you stepped out of the house seriously. Never, before last night.
It’s a war zone out there.
I’ve always prided myself for not being easily scared, for being strong, committed and willing to take action to back up my words. My friends have at times called me a patriotic zealot. Even made fun of my attempts at “activism”. But last night, I was scared. For the first time in my life, this ultra-patriotic Pakistani just wanted to run away: from this place, this city, from this country. And not look back.
This morning, I deliberately took The Mall to get to work. I wanted to see the aftermath of what I had witnessed in my rearview mirror the previous night.
And maybe, just maybe, if courage permitted, to take a solitary stand at Charing Cross, to stand and proclaim: We are not scared.
Much to my dismay (and a little to my relief), the police had blocked The Mall from the Governor’s House onward and I had to take the Lawrence Road to get to work. And again, I thought: I shouldn’t be here. I am scared. We are scared.
I could have died last night. These six words have been running around my head all morning.
I could have died last night. Had I been a little unluckier than I am, I would have died last night. But I didn’t. And the fact that I did not die has lit a fire in my chest like nothing before. Just because I was lucky enough to survive yesterday, and Capt. Mobeen and Officer Gondal weren’t, has instilled this desire in my soul to not let their sacrifices go to waste. They literally gave their life up for mine. For us.
They say encountering death puts the fear of God in you. All death did for me was to wake me up to my own apathy and ignorance. If there ever was a time to be united, to show our solidarity with those who lost their lives, to stand together against those that instill this fear within our ranks, it is now. It is today.
But. I am scared. I am fucking scared.”
Cover image via: aljazeera.com