Today is a day unlikely to be ever erased from my memory. It was the first time I found myself in the middle of a full-fledged riot and experienced fear. Blood curdling fear.
I had just finished my studies in the library for my semester exams. A crowd of around 300 outside miscreants disguised as the student of our University emerged from the Jummah Namaz at a mosque adjoining the university and blocked the entire roadway and the surroundings. A few of them were carrying “Oppose CAB and NRC” signboards. A massive crowd of rioters started marching towards the main road, young lads barely on the verge of their 20s and some as young as 15 and 16 dressed in kurta pyjamas and skullcaps armed with sticks and stones. First, ,they started raising slogans aimed at inciting religious feelings then all of a sudden the crowd got violent and started attacking the police persons with stones and sticks.
My heart pounded as I heard them screaming. I saw them laughing sadistically as they crossed the police barricading and poking the police officials with their sticks.
I ducked and stayed dead still. One swing of the stick is all it would take.
After half an hour of this dance of death, a contingent of Delhi Police arrived and pushed back these miscreants through tear gas. When I finally emerged from my safe hideout after 4 hours of tortourous confinement, the university campus resembled a war zone.
You read about mob violence and watch it on T.V. Some even romanticize it. Till the day it happens to you. It is only then you realize that every single day is a gift.
