31 Oct 1984: My story

The train stopped with a jolt mid-way into the station of Konnagar, a quiet hamlet at the outskirts of Howrah District. It was 3:00 pm and we presumed it was one of the usual unscheduled stops during an Indian train journey. I was about 10 years old and was accompanying my Father, my maternal Uncle, a doctor and my ailing Mother, and we were headed to Kolkata (then known as Calcutta) from Indore. Hence, I was infact more of an observer than an actor through most of the events which were to follow.

When the duration of the halt seemed rather extended it dawned upon the passengers to make enquiries. Rumors and stories flew in from all sides and it seemed that the people were making much ado about nothing. However, it was finally confirmed that the then Prime Minister of India Mrs. Indira Gandhi had been assassinated by her security guards in New Delhi. This news opened Pandora’s Box and literally all hell broke loose.

Panic and chaos spread like wildfire. Roads were blocked and trains were stopped in their tracks. People were distrusting each other and were ready for violence at the drop of a hat. Gradually there was a scene of sheer madness all around us. Amongst this commotion my Father pleaded with the station-master to arrange for an ambulance to take us to Kolkata and also announce our non-arrival at the Howrah station so that our awaiting family could be informed accordingly.

The ambulance eventually arranged, my Mother, Father, the doctor and me took off towards Kolkata and my Uncle stayed on with the luggage in the train awaiting its arrival to the Howrah Station. Our journey was often obstructed by the many barricades built by the locals. I remember seeing plenty of road rallies and demonstrations. I also remember feeling quite nauseated due to motion sickness. Thank God I’m quite cured of that now. Bracing similar obstacles aplenty, we reached our home in Kolkata after several hours.   

27 years have passed since Mrs. Indira Gandhi’s assassination, and till date each of us can recall the obstacles faced on that unfortunate day. Young or old, healthy or ailing, I’m sure all of us have a story to tell, and even while you’re reading this your hair has surely stood on end with memories of the similar or worse incidents in your lives.  

October 2011