A month ago, at the crack of dawn, India and Pakistan woke up to a terrible tragedy - twin blasts on the Samjhauta Express, families destroyed and lives changed forever. Thirty days have passed and many would say that perhaps nothing has changed. Remnants of that fateful day still lie strewn at the site of the blast. Meanwhile, India and Pakistan have tested the Joint Anti-Terror Mechanism and investigations are making slow progress.
But, amidst all this, lie forgotten the victims of the Samjhauta Express blasts. Here are some stories that try and retrace the lives of victims who seem to have been forgotten by the system.
Our first thoughts go with little Shamim, the face of the tragedy. He was forcefully air-lifted by the Pakistani authorities at a time when he needed all the medical attention that he could get. Shamim is still battling for his life at a Pakistan hospital and doesn't quite know the blow that life has served him.
The human face of the Samjhauta tragedy
Lahore: About a month ago, nine victims of the Samjhauta blasts were brought at Lahore's Mayo hospital, Pakistan's equivalent of the All India Institue of Medical Sciences, New Delhi. Six of them have returned home since, but three are still battling for their lives.
The face of the tragedy, nine-year-old Shamim as he was known in India is in fact a 14-year-old child named Aneel Sami. The nervous hospital authorities did not allow cameras inside but Aneel's is a story that needs to be told.
Two skin grafts, a heavy dose of antibiotics and tender loving care from the nurses later, Aneel's chances of survival have risen from 25 per cent to 90 per cent. On Saturday, Aneel even managed to take a few steps in his room at the hospital, the first since the blasts. A month ago, he could not even speak due to the excrutiating pain and was being fed through tubes. Today he says that he is beginning to once again enjoy eating gosht (mutton).
One can't help but marvel at his spirit when he says he wants to return to school and take a trip to India on the same train.
However, Aneel has not been told told that he has lost his father and his elder brother in the tragedy. He expects to return home to Karachi and see them there.
"We have lied to him, telling him that his father is alive and fine, that he has just suffered a slight injury in the leg," says one of his brothers.
His brothers Jeshan and Faheen take turns to look after him. "His fingers have been completely damaged and the doctors have said that they cannot be fixed. I want to show him to a better doctor and see if something can be done or else we will have to cut off his fingers," says his brother.
It will be many months before the burns heal, but Aneel's is not a lonely battle. Back home in Karachi, Aneel's well-wishers - his friends and neighbours - all pray for him, the boy who survived a fate worse than death.
(With inputs from Parul Malhotra in Lahore)
The came with children, returned with coffins
The human dimensions of the tragedy is heart wrenching. Shaukat and Ruksana came to India with six children, but they have returned to Pakistan with five coffins and one surviving child. Needless to say, life will never be the same again for them.
Faisalabad: One-year-old Aksa's large eyes are constantly seraching for her brothers and sisters. Less than a month ago, her house was bustling with the house of six children, but today Aksa is friend-less. She does not know that the very playmates she is looking for lie buried less than a kilometer away from her home in Faisalabad.
Ayesha, 15, Bilal, 12, Aamir, 10, Asma, 8, and Rehman, 5 - these are all names on tombstones, names that were once Rana Shaukat Ali and Ruksana's reasons to live. They say that you never get over the death of a child, the loss of a child goes against the very principle that the world is built upon.
Children are supposed to bury their parents, but Shaukat and Ruksana could only bury the charred remains of their five children.
"The Indian Government wanted that I leave my children's bodies there. They said that if you want, we will bury them with all the rituals in Panipat. But I did not want my children to be buried there. I wanted to bury my children in my own soil, in Pakistan. We are relieved that at least we can go and visit our childrens' graves here," says Rana Shaukat Ali.
When the two bogies of the Samjhauta Express caught fire, Shaukat and Ruksana jumped out with Aksa. By then, smoke had entered the coaches and the hapless father could not re-enter to save his children - a guilt he says he will live with for the rest of his life.
"If I had known it was a bomb blast, I would have pushed all my children out of the bogie. I thought it was a gas cylinder which had burst, which had caused all the smoke. Also there was no light in the coach. I couldn't breathe and I tried to get to the door to get a breath of fresh air and I moved towards the door of the coach. When I opened the door, the oxygen touched the deadly gas and then there was a huge fireball," recalls Shaukat.
Shaukat believes it was all fate. He and his family were not even supposed to be on the train that fated night. They had planned to return four days earlier, but were held back by relatives.
Today, one month later, both Shaukat and Ruksana cling to Aksa, never leaving her alone even for a second. With his arms still in a sling and the burns still visible on Ruksana and Aksa's face, even a question over whether they will forgive and forget is met with anger and disbelief.
"There is not a single moment when I don't remember my children. I sit at my shop and I keep crying," says Shaukat.
The pain is followed by anger. Shaukat is the key witness in the blasts and Indian Police want answers from him. But he has his own questions.
"Why did the driver of the train stop the train before Panipat? Why did he letthat man get off? Maybe the man who got off before Panipat was the criminal behind the blasts. They should have arrested him if he did not have a visa and passport and maybe this would not have happened," says he.
And even though the sounds of trains now set the family's heart beating faster, they are willing to take the risk an dtravel back to India, where they lost so much, just to testify and ensure that those who set that bomb and changed their lives forever pay for what they did.
(With inputs from Qaiser Chohan)
Departing with a prayer on their lips...
New Delhi: Days after the Samjhauta Express attack, the train was back on track. Since then it has made a number of journeys, but every journey begins with a prayer on people's lips.
Sevety-one-year-old Bismillah Mustafai was born in India but went to Pakistan after her marriage. Forty-five years later, she braved a lone train journey to India to meet her brothers and his sons.
"I couldn't meet my brother. He has passed away, but I met my nephews and my heart soared after meeting them," says she.
Bismillah does not know about the blasts but her nephew is not apprehensive about sending her back alone on the Samjhauta Express. Bismillah's co-passengers promised to help her back on her way home. Many of them, like Usmaan who had come to India to attend a cousin's wedding hope to come back to visit again.
"God willing we will come back again. These are our people and we want to meet them again, whatever happens," says Usmaan.
The train of hope for millions of Indians and Pakistanis is taking yet another journey across the border, but for most travelling after the blasts, teh desire to meet their loved ones overtakes the inconvinience caused by security procedures.
"The security is for our good and we don't mind it," says a passenger.
The compartments are the same except the two burnt bogies, but there is a new team of ticket examiners on board. They are philosophical about the blasts and the call of duty is greater than emotions they say.
"We have to work and there is nothing to be scared of. If something is to happen, nothing can stop it," says a ticket examiner.
As time ticks by, families bid goodbye to their loved ones from one side of the barricade. The border is a visible one. With tearful eyes and a prayer, the Samjhauta Express leaves Platform No. 18 of the Old Delhi Railway Station, 28 minutes late, a month after the blasts.
(With inputs from Habiba Marya Shakil in Delhi)
Have the investigations made any progress?
The train is back on track but the investigations certainly aren't. Thirty days have passed but the special investigation team has no major details or clues to fall back on. Many feel that with Pakistan insisting on taking its nationals back home, very vital details have been lost.
Indore: It's the Indore link to the Samjhauta blasts. If the special investigation team of the Haryana Police is to be believed, then the Safari Luggage shop in Indore's Kothari market is a crucial link to the blasts. This is the shop that police believe the terrorists bought the suitcase from in which the Samjhauta bombs were planted.
The employees of the shop, Muzzaffar and Thakur, as well as other shopowners of the Kothari market have provided vital details towards the investigation, claim the police. Tailors who stitched the suitcase and the bottles in which the bombs were stored were all bought from the Kothari market.
"The perpetrators of crime have very important links in these places and have worked from Indore town. That's the conclusion that the investigation has thrown up," say top police officials.
Investigations are also focussed on the Old Delhi area, the starting point of the Samjhauta Express. Phones have been tapped and several people have been detained, but everything has led to a dead-end so far. The initial finger-pointing towards Lashkar-e-Toiba and the SIMI has also died down.
From the Old Delhi area, investigations panned out to 18 cities, based on the labels of the bottles in which the petrol was stored. Mumbai to Aligarh, Meerut and Allahabad in Uttar Pradesh, Bikaner in Rajasthan and then finally Indore in Madhya Pradesh to where the special investigation team believes it's got substantive information.
The special investigation team believes that air-lifting of Pakistani nationals to their own country was a big body blow to the investigations. Sources say crucial bits of information have not come into flow primarily because the special investigation team could not talk in detail to the victims.
If there is more that could go wrong with the investigation, it has. The police are looking into who ordered the movement of the remaining bogies without checking. Many believe that provided a safe haven to terrorists to get away.
The identity of Usmaan is also suspect - the Haryana Police detained him as a suspect and then two days later he became a prize witness. Conflicting versions of whether the train actually slowed down near the Deewana station or not are also making the case tough.
The real investigation now hinges on the kind of cooperation that Pakistan extends to the Indian team under the umbrella of the Joint Anti-Terror Mechanism.
(With inputs from Brijesh Pandey in New Delhi)
A journey Zakir will never forget
New Delhi: As Zakir walks out of the burns ward for the first time in a month, he knows that nothing will be quite the same again. The sun stings his surgically reconstructed face and still healing wounds.
A Railway Police team from Panipat is taking him to the blasts site and family and friends will just have to wait as Zakir's statement of what was happening inside the bogies on that fateful night are vital for the police.
Zakir steels himself for what lies ahead as he tells the police every detail as clearly as he can remember it. It was journey he is unlikely to forget.
"I wonder how much my parents would have suffered when I see the condition of the burnt train," says he.
Zakir's parents could not escape. Their bodies, charred beyond recognition, lie buried in Mehrana near Panipat, along with many others. The only thing that differentiates the buried bodies are numbers that have been put over their graves. Zakir and his family will have to wait for the results of the DNA test before he knows what numbers belong to his parents.
At the police station, Zakir is shown pictures of the suspects and a suitcase. A statement is recorded and then he faces the terror of that night, yet again.
A gurney bag with remains collected from near his seat is emptied out - a burnt kurta, scraps of what was once a salwar kameez, remains of child's tricycle and bangles. Zakir recognises the burnt clothes of his parents and a stell mug that belongs to his father - scraps he knows he will hold on to for the rest of his life.
It's almost midnight when the police finally drop Zakir back to his house, in Nazeebabad. It's a homecoming that his family has been waiting for. It's a new life for Zakir who escaped the tragedy by a whisker. Zakir knows it will not be easy to start life over again.
"I had made the plan alone, but my parents said that they wanted to go too as they had not visited theire relatives for almost 15 years. I had said no too but they would not listen," says he.
Now Zakir says that 18 February 2007 will remain seared in his memory forever - it's the day he fought death and the day death claimed his parents.
(With inputs from Urvashi Gulia)
The Samjhauta blasts have taught India and Pakistan a very crucial lesson, that terrorism knows no national boundaries or religion and that the Samjhauta is not just a huble little train.
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