Delhi is mad with anger.
It’s neither fear nor grief but seething anger which grips the city after terrorists threw a bomb in a flower market and killed two persons -- one of them an innocent nine-year-old boy.
None is a coward here and nobody is afraid. This is not our first tryst with terror. The tech-savvy extremists of today are no more lethal than the turbaned youths of yesteryears who thought bombs could get them a separate state of Khalistan.
Oh yes, then too there were bombs exploding everywhere -- in busy markets, at bus stands and in trains. Bombs were lobbed at people watching Ramayana on television on quiet Sundays, and when the injured and the dead were taken to hospitals, bombs struck there too, killing again. Congress(I) Member of Parliament Lalit Maken and his wife Geetanjali were sprayed with bullets and murdered at their Kirti Nagar house, so was Metropolitan Councillor Arjun Dass, who was killed two months after Maken. At a child’s birthday party in a South Delhi home, a terrorist opened fire with an AK-47, killing many.
In neighbouring Punjab, Haryana and Himachal, terrorists ruled the roost, pulling out passengers from buses at will and killing those belonging to a particular community. They massacred poor labourers from Bihar working in the fields of the well-heeled Punjab farmers. As it happened in Mehrauli on Saturday, most of them roamed on two-wheelers, escaping easily after doling out death.
Terror gripped Delhi then too, but never fear.
I heard the first reactions from the city to the Mehrauli blasts on radio as my car sped towards office. “These terrorists are cowards. Himmat hai toh saamne aayien,” a woman said. “They will never succeed in scaring us by killing innocent people. If they are so brave, why don’t they face us?” another asked. Phone lines to the radio station which had invited a response from its listeners to the blast were chocked with angry callers.
The Khalistan call is dead today and the harbingers of death are bowing to a new God.
This time too, as we did a decade ago, we shall overcome!   

 

We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

 

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
(Excerpts from The Flanders Fields)

 

TRACKBACK URL: http://blog.mid-day.com/trackback/859

wake up!!!
http://frontpagemagazine.com/Articles/Read.aspx?GUID=300FB52F-A9CA-4E71-9072-3AF02AE3F687 check this !
Written by: abdul | 14/12 09:38PM

Name:*


Email:*


Title:


Comments:

Code:*