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Journalism of Courage
After nearly 30 years, it is again a slow melange of death and debris between gate numbers 47 and 49. Since a collision between two trains in 1977 at the Diwana station, life on the 3-km stretch between the gates was back on the fast track8212;until February 18 when the two points punctuated the journey to Lahore with blasts that led to an inferno in which 68 passengers died.
From the 8220;up8221; and 8220;down8221; trains thundering past the burnt bogies, passengers peer out to catch a glimpse of the horror. The images of the bogies, last disinfected on December 5, 2006, pass by in a blur. Cutting across fields, on their way to work at Sheena Exports, factory workers gasp at the gruesome sight of the carnage site. The staff of Diwana station walk past the location stoically, while their wives refuse to step out of their railway colony homes nearby to see the 8220;site8221;. Farmhands hurry by, while students rev up their bikes on the dirt track that leads to the siding track where the charred bogies have been stationed. They all slow down, for a minute, mumble about the horror of it all and then allow the policemen on duty to nudge them along the tracks.
But strewn across the three-kilometre stretch are constant reminders of Sunday8217;s carnage. A gum wrenched out of a bleeding mouth lies near the spot where the train finally stopped. All along, there are bloodied gloves thrown by rescue workers in a hurry. The scorched plants along the track, the banners at the station informing everyone about the ongoing inquiry and constant questions about whether more lives could have been saved have stalled many in their tracks.
Huddled inside their home, three generations of the Sharmas try to bridge the gap between 1977 and 2007. 8220;Steam engines collided then,8221; says Hardera Sharma. 8220;There was a fire then also, but it was just an accident and not so horrific.8221;
8220;I was a child then but remember the fire,8221; says Ishwar, Hardera8217;s son. 8220;But the blasts this time have shaken us. It happened in our backyard and there was very little we could do. The bogies were red and hot. The water we threw just vapourised.8221;
Waiting for his goods train to get the green signal, guard Daya Shankar leans out of his cabin, watching passenger trains go by. 8220;I was in the restroom at Ambala when it happened,8221; he recalls. 8220;I came up to the lobby to board my train scheduled to leave around 1.30 a.m. when I was told that it had been cancelled. And the next day when things were back on track, we went past the burnt bogies. The scene is stuck in my head.8221;
For the policemen guarding the debris8212;the damaged 8220;Prevent a Fire8221; board found in every compartment of the Indian Railways, a pile of mouldy aam papad packets, scorched pan leaves, broken bangles, scraps of cloth and colourful confetti glittering on the blackened floor of unreserved bogies8212;the odour of burning flesh refuses to dissipate. As they camp under a tree, occasionally going into one of the intact bogies to stretch their legs, they quietly watch investigative teams from across the country check the luggage rack where the suitcase bomb went off creating a dent in the overhead metal sheet and draw their own conclusions.
8220;The team from Gujarat was looking for parallels with Godhra, the Mumbai team made comparisons with their local train blasts,8221; says a policeman on the watch. 8220;Everyone is looking to join the dots and get the complete picture.8221;
Not very far, Gang Number 15 is busy maintaining the fourth track, popularly known as the NFL National Fertiliser Limited line. Under the yellow station board that declares that Diwana is 233.974 metres above sea level, Balbir Singh piles up weeds dug out of the track. 8220;We were all woken up and got here as fast as we could,8221; he says. 8220;And for the next 24 hours, we tried to help.8221;
A couple of kilometres away, gateman Vijay Kumar is waiting to take the bread loaf he bought home. With the staff on duty during the Samjhauta disaster busy with enquiries, he has held fort at Gate No 47 for nearly 12 hours. And between manning the busy crossing, he patiently answers questions about how his colleague Pawan Kumar heard the two bombs go off, contacted the Diwana station manager, who brought down the signal and ensured that the train came to a screeching halt at Gate 49. 8220;Each time I am on duty, I narrate the sequence of events a dozen times over.8221;
At 49, where the burning train came to a halt, gateman Khusi Ram listens as engineering student Sachin Kaushik complains of a lack of appetite. 8220;I was coming back from a wedding when I saw the coaches on fire. I immediately tried to get to the train, but the leaping flames held us back. Then we ran back and forth with buckets of water to douse the fire. Nothing worked. And when I finally sat down around six in the morning, I couldn8217;t eat a morsel. I still can8217;t.8221;
Kanta Devi lives on the banks of the Guga Pir pond, from where villagers from Shiva fetched hundreds of pots of water to put out the fire. 8220;My first reaction was that it must be a fight,8221; she recalls. 8220;But when I stepped out, it was an inferno. As the men ran with buckets of water, we took out every utensil in the kitchen to carry water from the pond. Once the fire was under control, we pooled in all the milk we had and made tea for everyone. It was after all the activity had shifted from here that the horror of the incident hit us.8221;
But each time the tracks reverberate with the sound of an approaching train, villagers of Shiva and Diwana reassure themselves that things are returning to normal.
Back at the Diwana station also, the tension is slowly easing. As the orange dots turn to red on the control panel in the station master8217;s room, indicating the arrival and departure of another train, the men on night shift crack a feeble joke.
This past Wednesday, as the Samjhauta Express is given priority in its first run since the blasts, the internal telephones crackle with life. It begins with how the 8220;Zalim Express8221; Jhelum Express so called because it is 8220;impossible to find a toe hold8221; on the train is running late and details about a passenger row on a train that just crossed the station.
As the electricity goes off and the platform is plunged in darkness for the nth time, they joke about the transformer they had in the fields which was stolen. Then they argue about whether an electric engine is faster than a diesel one.
And then, at 1.26 a.m. by assistant station manager Suraj Pal8217;s watch, the Samjhauta Express thunders past Diwana station, just like it did on February 18 and then fleets past the silhouette of its five bogies stationed on the siding. This time, the green flag stays up and minutes later, the telephone ring indicates that all is clear. The Samjhauta Express has made it home.
