Fear dies on the Riverfront

In many ways, Varanasi after the blast has become an example, a shining light that8217;s showing others the way. The mahant agrees that the city8217;s response was exemplary but is clearly intrigued by the generalisation. 8216;8216;Everybody is almost playing to a script,8217;8217; he says. 8216;8216;Everybody is only talking of our Ganga-Jamuni culture as if the city has never seen a riot.8217;8217;

He credits the sustained efforts by the Mahants and Muslim religious leaders for the poise this time. 8216;8216;The district magistrate only met us on March 13,8217;8217; says Mishra, who retired as the head of BHU8217;s civil engineering department in 2001 after 40 years of teaching.

His family has been looking after the Sankat Mochan temple for generations. 8216;8216;I was the first in my family to get formal education,8217;8217; smiles the mahant who has successfully balanced his technical career with his traditional duties.8216;8216;My astha is the Ganga and the Hanuman temple,8217;8217; he says simply.

And protecting both has become a pressing challenge before him. Mishra, who has a specialisation in water resource management, launched the Sankat Mochan Trust and the Ganga Swach Abhiyan in 1982. Today, he is looking ahead to see how the temple can be made safer without it going the way of the Kashi Vishwanath Temple which, most locals will tell you, they have stopped frequenting because of the elaborate security measures.

8216;8216;We will do everything to make the temple secure but the police should ensure security around its periphery. We have to work together,8217;8217; says Mishra, inviting suggestions from all. 8216;8216;Political leaders are descending on Varanasi but they have nothing to say to us. Religious leaders came here and said they would go on dharna but we dissuaded them. There is a difference between practising Hinduism and radical Hindusim. No one should make a career out of all this,8217;8217; warns Mishra.

THE BELIEVER
Raj Kumar
Scrap artiste
Away from the Sankat Mochan temple, at the Tulsi Ghat before another ancient Hanuman temple, a small crowd gathers, disperses and collects again under a rickety chatri umbrella. Some are acquaintances, others friends and some complete strangers. Local artist Raj Kumar is holding forth on Tulsi Das and Kabir and Ram temple, bomb blasts and politicians.

He launches on an improvised story of Emperor Akbar and clever Birbal. 8216;8216;One day,8217;8217; says the storyteller of the ghats with a dramatic flourish, 8216;8216;Emperor Akbar asked Birbal to get a temple made. Once it was made, Birbal reported to him that the temple was built but that only Hindus were visiting it. So said Akbar, get a masjid made.

8216;8216;Birbal carried out his order but complained to Akbar that only the Muslims were visiting the masjid. Akbar threw up his hands in despair and said to Birbal, 8216;Now you use your mind and build something that everyone will visit8217;.8217;8217;

The crowd twitters in anticipation. 8216;8216;So what did Birbal build?8217;8217; continues Raj Kumar. 8216;8216;A toilet. And everybody visited it.8217;8217; He gets a round of applause. A white-haired wise man interjects, 8216;8216;Birbal built a hospital, not a toilet. Who had toilets then?8217;8217;

8216;8216;Alright, it must have been a hospital,8217;8217; says Raj Kumar, and with a last cheerful wave at no one in particular, he limps away with the help of his stick, disappearing into the maze of lanes that lie beyond.

Under the chatri, the crowd resumes its daily rituals. Some young boys comb their hair vigorously, others scan the newspaper headlines on Advani8217;s visit to the city while others stare vacantly at the river.

Back in his home behind the Ram Janaki math, Raj Kumar is slightly less animated but equally enthusiastic. In a cramped corner of his courtyard lies a pile of dry twigs, tattered clothes and dated wedding cards. Raj Kumar appears to have transported some of Vanarasi8217;s happy chaos into his home. But like everything else in the city, there is method in this madness.

8216;8216;I make things with scrap,8217;8217; says Raj Kumar. Every day he combs the ghats, clearing them of rubbish, and in the evening he tries to teach children how to make interesting objects with them: Lamp shades of discarded plastic bottles and Ganesh of cloth and twigs.

Raj Kumar knows each corner of the ghats well but confesses he hasn8217;t been to the Sankat Mochan temple for at least three years. 8216;8216;I see the Ganga every day. I don8217;t need to go to any temple,8217;8217; he says. But a blast so close to home has left him perplexed. 8216;8216;It8217;s all about politics but I have no interest in politics. Should I worry about politics or about how to make money?8217;8217; he asks.

But he is certain about one thing: Kashi cannot be kept down. 8216;8216;Kashi is a place of anand joy and it will remain that. And you know what Banaras means? Bana-ras,8217;8217; he says, slowly breaking down the word, sound by sound. 8220;A ras that will never go sour.8217;8217;

THE DOCTOR
Kundan Kumar
Surgeon, BHU hospital
A young man, injured in an accident, is brought in on a stretcher. It8217;s another tough day at the busy emergency ward of the BHU hospital. But not so tough as it was two weeks ago when, at the end of a long day, Dr Kundan Kumar, a surgeon at the BHU hospital, got a terse message: There were blasts at the railway station and the Sankat Mochan temple.

Action followed. Two more wards were readied for the injured and all the doctors and nurses turned up at the hospital. 8216;8216;We received about 73 patients and five who had died,8217;8217; says Kumar of that terrible Tuesday.

At present, apart from 10 patients, all have been discharged. 8216;8216;The cases that required a single operation have all recovered and gone home but we still have cases that require multiple surgeries,8217;8217; says Kumar who counts among his work experience a stint in the Iran-Iraq battlefield.

Kumar says they are gradually getting familiar with such cases. The hospital received the Shramjeevi blast victims five months ago and more recently riots victims from Mau were shifted here.

8216;8216;As soon as news of the blast reached the hospital, queues of students lined up to donate blood. No one asked them to, they just came on their own. Within no time we had got 100 units of blood,8217;8217; says Kumar, who has also been a student at BHU.

The doctors and nurses worked the whole night and Kumar finally went home at eight the next morning. 8216;There were all sorts of injuries, some from sharpnels, others suffered fractures during stampedes that usually follow such cases,8217;8217; says Kumar.

Most of the blast victims may have gone home but Kumar says the hospital is open for follow-up visits and counseling for the shock that still surrounds some patients. And, he8217;s positive that they will all turn the corner.

THE FAITHFUL
Sheikh Niyamat Ali and son Imamuddin
Tailor and muezzin of the Bulaki Shaheed Masjid
Sheikh Niyamat Ali looks up from the kurta he has been stitching with complete concentration. The crease on his forehead smoothens a bit and tentative laugh lines show up. His almost-impossibly small shop at Assi Chauraha has no signboard. 8216;8216;It was very old and one day just fell off. The shop8217;s called Aapka Tailor,8217;8217; he says apologetically.

In this city of so many shades, Ali too plays a double role. Behind his shop is the Bulaki Shaheed Masjid, which he says is 350 years old, and where he calls out the aazan. 8216;8216;Before me my father and my grandfather looked after the masjid and were tailors as well. My father stitched two sherwanis for Dr Radhakrishnan,8217;8217; he claims proudly.

On March 7, Ali was in his shop. 8216;8216;We were very sad to hear of the blasts. We had never really thought of a terror attack in Varanasi,8217;8217; he says. 8216;8216;There is always fear when something like this happens. Varanasi has seen riots before.8221;

Unprompted, he goes back to a day in 1992 or 1993, he8217;s not too sure, when elections were round the corner and riots broke out. 8216;8216;There was curfew in the evening and we were trying to get home. Near the masjid, someone said 8216;Masterji hide, the police jeep is coming8217;. Then a voice told me to take another lane. As I turned, I nearly fell on a body. I have never forgotten that image, that body in that lane.8217;8217;

A harrowing journey and many close shaves later Ali and his son reached home. Little wonder then that he8217;s clearly relieved this time it8217;s been so different. His 25-year-old son Imamuddin has a simple explanation. 8216;8216;People have realised the futility of fighting. We have such few industries here and those too are running losses.8221;

THE CUSTODIAN
Babu Lal Chaudhari
Sub-Inspector, on duty at Sankat Mochan temple
FOR sub-inspector Babu Lal Chaudhari, a visit to the Sankat Mochan temple is more than a call of duty. He has been posted at Varanasi for the last three years and in those years he has never missed his daily round to the temple. 8216;8216;Duty or no duty, I come here every day.8217;8217;

Chaudhari was also there on the evening of March 7, keeping an eye on the swelling Tuesday crowd. He was on a routine lookout for pickpockets who usually struck on busy days like these and for bicycles thieves who loitered at the temple parking.

8216;8216;There were nearly 2,500-3,000 people here that evening,8217;8217; he says. And then he heard the blast. 8216;8216;It was deafening. There was smoke all round. We first thought it was a cylinder blast at the temple8217;s corner where a wedding was taking place. Only later when the bomb disposal squad arrived did we come to know it was a bomb,8217;8217; says Chaudhari who has been with the UP police for 26 years.

The next few hours went in carrying the injured to ambulances, private cars, government vehicles, to just about anything that could move. 8216;8216;Everybody tried to do their bit, from carrying the injured in whatever they could get 8212; sheets, durries, sacks, to offering their vehicles to donating blood.8217;8217;

His house was flooded with calls from friends and well-wishers. 8216;8216;They all knew I was on duty and thought I had died. But I was fortunate,8217;8217; he says.

Chaudhari says he and his colleagues were prepared for a potential clash. 8216;8216;Aashanka to thi ki kahi yeh communal rang na le le We feared that it could take on a communal colour but there was no tension in the town,8217;8217; he says.

The temple may look spotless again but the paraphernalia that follow terror have arrived. A metal detector greets pilgrims and a group of constables stands ready to frisk you. 8216;8216;We never imagined that something like this could happen here. But it8217;s over now,8217;8217; Chaudhari returns to the temple gate.

THE VICTIM
Gyanprakash Sonker
Father of 10-yr-old blast victim Ashish
In the BHU hospital ward, 10-year-old Ashish Sonker lies with his legs all bandaged. On the floor next to his cot, his parents keep a long vigil. Father Gyanprakash, a vegetable and fruit vendor, puts up a brave front. 8220;I have gone through a lot in life.8221; Yet on March 7, when he returned home to find his son missing, his heart skipped a beat.

8220;My son was very keen to learn something technical so I made him join a video filming studio,8221; says Gyanprakash. That Tuesday, young Ashish went along with his boss Harish Bijlani, the owner of the city8217;s Photo Flash Studio, to shoot a wedding at the Sankat Mochan temple. 8220;When I heard of the blast I rushed to Bijlani8217;s house. He had died,8221; says Gyanprakash.

Then began a search that ended at the BHU hospital. 8220;I am just happy that my son is fine. He showed such presence of mind. He was bleeding profusely but even in that state, he asked the doctors to find the family8217;s number in Mughalsarai from his cell phone,8221; recalls Gyanprakash before breaking off to attend to his son who has begun crying in pain again.

Then Ashish looks up, tries to fight tears and fold his hands. 8220;Namaste,8221; he says weakly.