Dandi March

Dandi March

His Eyes were raining down tears and his nails were biting into his palms as he sat there watching his brothers butchered like lambs. The rage and grief that possessed him were turning his blood into poison, a poison that will be let out soon.

Meet Saiffudin Yusuf Aslam.
A modern young Indian, who has found a place for himself in the back office of the world. The Multinational that employed had moved all its back office operations to pune for cost cutting. Yusuf was raking in the moolah and cost cutting was the last thing in his mind.

His humble beginnings and a tough early life were keeping him grounded. Even though he was part of the day dreaming, money splurging club of the country, he had simple ambitions in life – to make his brother syed an engineer, save enough money to start a small business for himself at dandi, his hometown, and live peacefully.

Fate had so far played as per his script. Just as he completed his graduation, the buzz of the BPO caught him. Thanks to a few of his friends, he started his job hunt in Pune. It was far from easy though. His poor English and lack of confidence, typical of a small town guy, hit him hard. But he fought on. Hours of training, CNN and HBO channels later, he landed a job. Once on job, he literally got wings to fly. Life was a fairy tale.


‘These fools have to be taught a lesson.’ Sheik Ahmed Khan was bellowing at the top of his voice. ‘We will take revenge forever drop of blood. We’ll clean this earth of this scum.’ There were dozens of young men and women much like Yusuf in that small hellhole. The collective frenzy in that place was enough to destroy this world.

The fairy tale ended abruptly, as if someone had pulled the chains in a running train. Like millions of others who watched the photo of a young man pleading for life with death written all over his face, Yusuf went pale with shock.

What followed for the next few weeks was a once famous Gulzar’s poem turning into a shocking reality.

“Every Morning my hands are soaked in Blood.
Every morning I pick up the newspaper.”

Yusuf was in touch with his little brother Syed throughout the ugly episode. His unwillingness to see reality made him sty back instead of rushing to syed. He kept telling himself, ‘this would end soon.’

Sure as hell, it ended. Two weeks into the Godhra carnage, Syed was one of the thousands of corpses that were piling up. Reality had hit too hard and too fast for Yusuf to do anything.

Standing amongst a sea of corpses that would make you puke your life out, he saw syed, with the milk white skin charred like coal. He wished he were blind. Rage spread through Yusuf like a forest fire.

Sheik Ahmed Khan was a failed gangster. He never had the intelligence to run the ‘dhandha’. He was once part of the now famous D – company. His stupid goof ups ensured that he got kicked out pretty soon. Now the wide spread hatred of his community provided him an ideal opportunity to seek his place under the sun. He was planning grand political games.

He was assured of financial and infrastructure support from Al-Ahmadia, one of the zillion groups that had mushroomed, thanks to the Gujrat riots. All he needed was people to run the show. Young guys like Yusuf with venom in their veins were a perfect fit.

Hundreds of CDs and videos were distributed all over the country and shown to several groups to instigate the anger. The visuals with gory details of the riots were enough to enrage even the calmest of saints.

No wonder, Yusuf was more than a ready volunteer for a violent cause.

The plan was clear. Yusuf was to get to back to mainstream. It’s hard to suspect a modern young guy employed in the back office of the world. But before going back, he got trained in the design of explosives.
He was to go to mumbai and wait for instructions. He was to design and plan the bombs at the said place at the said time.

Yusuf stayed in Andheri, the central location of Mumbai ad he was well and truly lost in the crowd.
Then the day arrived when he had to show his mettle. The day he had been waiting for. He was to plant a pipe bomb at dadar station, enough to throw the financial capital of India out of gear.

His hide out was one of the million chawls in Mumbai. This particular one in Vasai was unlike the others. Though it was filthy, it wasn’t too crowded. A secluded enough place for Yusuf to plan his battle.

As he was working furiously at assembling the explosive, an unbelievable joy spread through him. He himself was exploding with nervous energy. ’This is it’, he thought, time to launch the war. In two hours time every thing was ready. The explosive in front of him seemed to be the most beautiful thing on earth.

He decided to carry the explosive along with him, it was too dangerous to leave it there, even though he was 24 hours away from the actual execution.

Yusuf looked very much like a college guy with the bag slinged stylishly on his shoulder. He caught the last train leaving from vasai. Train would be free enough for him to go without raising any suspicion.


As he huddled himself in a corner seat of the train, he was irritated by a family, which came and sat near him. He was hoping to be left alone. More irritation followed as the guy who was apparently the head of the family started talking to him.

‘What do you study?’ Yusuf gave him a puzzled look. He didn’t know why a complete stranger would like to know about his education. He simply said BCom’.

‘Hmm. that’s good. I want to make Intiaz a doctor’, the man said and looked with pride at his son. The kid was bubbly and was running up and down the train.

One look at the small kid, syed came flooding back to Yusuf’s mind. Even though syed was 14 when he died, what Yusuf remembered about him was a little kid playing kites with him. Intiaz was very much like syed, the same cheerfulness, and the same energy.

The man continued talking.’ I have a dream to make him a doctor. He is a very bright boy, you know. He is great at everything. Studies, sports, everything. But Iam a small man. I work at a teashop at dadar station, enough to run my house, but not enough to pay his school. Allah will help me.’ He seemed to be talking to himself rather than to Yusuf.

The family got down two stations later, but the little kid never left Yusuf’s mind. Time seemed to have stopped for Yusuf. He was less than 24 hours away from fulfilling his life’s purpose, but the very purpose had been questioned.

Yusuf was torn between the innocence of Intiaz and loyalty to his group. After all, they were his only friends when there seemed to be no one for him and they had trusted him with the first blow of the war. How could he betray them?

All this while Intiaz and syed kept flashing back to his memory. His heart was pounding as if it were experiencing an earthquake.

‘Intiaz deserves to be a doctor’, he thought. He will not let his war come in the way of an innocent man’s dream. A strange sense of happiness spread through him as he decided this.

A war had been won without blood. There is still venom in his veins, but it will heal soon, a few more Intiazes willing.