Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Red Day

It was going to be a red day. The sun rose early, bleeding over the city ruthlessly. The tops of buildings and trees and hills turned red and then yellow and then white. Everyone knew what was going to happen. Everyone waited breathlessly.

It began in the East, across the Yamuna. Screams and cries echoed over the water. Smoke curled up, dark and threatening, like an approaching thunderstorm. People looked to the East, eyes sheltered, and then retreated into whatever safety they thought they had found. The safety of their religion, the safety of their friends, the safety, perhaps, of violence.

It continued. Blood flowed down from the East to the West. Rumours would have flowered, except they could find no soil. No one spoke to one another. Neighbours had become possible foes, friends had become possible victims. Only family counted - family, and religion. Every other bond had broken down.

It ended at dusk. The sun turned red for the second time that day, but the city - the city had been red all along.

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Anonymous said...

Cute :)


Anonymous said...

Cute? Cute? Hmph.


P.S. - Yay! First comment! :D