When the Bomber boy met the President

scared-kid

“It’s very simple”, they said, “Beera! You just need to bring those two wires close and that’s it.” They assured me that the bomb detonation would result into annihilation of only the infidels and I would come back safe as God would spare me from explode and burn. That is what they promised me.

Today, I didn’t go to school; it’s not that I don’t like going to school. In fact my school is amazing! Few days before, our school gave us a chance to get face to face to the President of our country. He was really a nice man, really sweet to all of us. He also sat with us the entire day discussing our aim in life.

Our home being at the border areas made us see a lot that we never deserved to see and go through. The frequent bombings, the militants, altogether always made this place a typical tension area. This chaos also took away my mother when I was a child. I don’t understand much of this war, the only thing that I get is- these bombs and militants are bad.

Today is the D day, for which I have been prepared all this time by my special new “post school teachers”. One fine day, they came up and asked me “Tell me boy, what would you do if I gave you a chance to take the revenge of your mother’s death from those ‘bad people’?” They managed to light up the faded spark in me and I agreed to do whatever plan they have to finish those ‘infidels’.

The ‘post school teachers’ loaded me with a heavy vest which was equipped with that ‘thing’ that would help accomplish harming those ‘bad people’. They assured me that I am going to do a very ‘Good deed’. The man handed me with an amulet of Koranic verses saying that it would protect me from the entire explosion. “It will really make the God happy and let you come back safe and sound”, they said while getting me blindfolded.

Even though I was blindfolded, I could figure out what is happening, with the sounds and movements around me. After a nice amount of driving of car, it halted and they removed the piece of cloth that was over my eyes. A building and many people are racing to get in the building. No, wait! It’s an auditorium where some kind of a lecture program is going to be commenced this evening.

As already planned I entered the auditorium hall, there weren’t any militants. The only people present are kids and teachers. The entire hall was full of kids along with lots of teachers. This is confusing, really confusing, I said to myself. Nothing is as I expected to be. Nothing was bad here, rather beautiful smiling faces with a soothing background music that was playing somewhere in the hall. Something is really not going right. Why an auditorium? No militants, only kids and post school teachers; have my new ‘post school teachers’ made some kind of mistake? Is it the right place? They must have really made mistake with place. They have driven me to the wrong destination and they don’t know what they have done. Or is it that these people aren’t just kids and teachers rather ruthless militants disguised as young and old teachers?

Suddenly an announcement was made, the chief guest has arrived and is about to enter the hall. My mind raced hard, shall I complete my work and get back to the car, as they said I will come out of here safe. They must be waiting for me out there in the car. Again my glance fell over the hall entrance, the chief guest is coming in, and it is a short man as the outline echoed. Somewhere my mind said, I have previously seen this man, and I know him.

I observed him carefully as he walked to the door. I knew that time was running out but suppressed the urge to check my watch. I took a deep breath and started counting in reverse under my breath. “Ten, nine, eight, seven…” Keeping my eyes fixed over the entrance my mind started hovering over the thought of the job for which I came here for; I was in a hurry, a bit nervous with the confusion. Then suddenly I could see the face of that man, and my brain stopped working for that moment of time. It was none other than our own president!

Something was gravely wrong, said my mind. What is happening? He isn’t bad, he can never be. I have met him, spoke to him. One thing was for sure; my ‘post school teachers’ have made a grave mistake. That moment itself I ran out of the auditorium and kept running until I reached to a busy hustle bustled place, a market place. My heart was racing not only because of the fast paced running I have done just now, but more than that because of the mind boggling series of events that has happened since morning today.

To calm my mind, I closed my eyes, and suddenly my ears caught a stream of voice “The security officials say that this is nothing new. In the past few years, rebels have used a number of children as suicide bombers, some of them as young as 10.This is done on the basis of the assumption that small kids are easy to get passed through check points and with lesser level of security checks.” A radio in the nearby shop echoed these lines out loud.

That was the moment when my eyes opened wide! I realized what was happening and that they wanted me to do a grave stuff. And above all I am not going to be any alive, nobody is going to be alive and that this heavy thing in my vest is nothing but a “SUICIDE BOMB”. This is going to kill every one of us and it is no ‘good deed’.

I started to cry and shout. People all around me came up to me and asked me what was wrong. I showed them what all I had been loaded with in my vest. Then they too got frightened and called the police who removed the bombs off me.

That is when I realized that the “Great Deed” as the ‘post school teachers’ said, where I had to detonate that bomb standing right in the heart of that auditorium wasn’t the revenge for my mother’s killing but an assassination plan of a great leader. It was solely their personal gluttony to fulfill their motives, ‘dark motives’.

In the evening I was drove back home to father and I told everything to father through and through. He understood that I was pretty misguided and explained me well that it wasn’t the militants who killed my mother. It was just the circumstances that took away my dearest mother away from us. The police arrived soon after and asked about the description of those men, their whereabouts and more.

The police officers explained father that my case is not an unusual one. In the past few years, the protesters have used a number of child suicide bombers, some of them as young as 9 year old kids. The reason why they target small kids for such ruthless missions is that the small kids are easy to get pass through checkpoints and security barriers as compared to grown up adults. They also said that rebels target vulnerable people such as small kids, mentally ill people and are manipulated in order to carry out attacks.

Many times the child suicide bombers sometimes are given a talisman having religious verses stated that it will keep them protected them from the blast. That is again I got enlightened that neither they were my ‘teachers’ nor they were ever ‘helping’ me out. They were rebels who took advantage of my emotions and tried to create terror among the people. It was they who were the real ‘bad people’ not the other militants.

Meanwhile the police after jotting down each and every minute detail of those real ‘bad people’, everything I had come across along with them and around them. After the completion of their questionnaire the police went away to continue with their further enquiries. My father asked me to forget this dream as a nightmare and start leading life back normally.

The next day I got ready to go to the school. It was indeed a fresh start, a new chapter of my life. Not just because I got a chance to live my life, but because I came face to face with the truth of my mother’s dead. The poison that I had inside me for so long, wasn’t in me any more. Above all I have saved lives. My one decision could have brought thousands of lives to the mouth of death. I saved lives, kids, and I saved the great Man. ‘The President’.

So this was my story; story when ‘The Bomber Boy’ met the ‘The President’.

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