Some nightmares have calm beginnings. April 21, Sunday. The third day of our Sri Lankan holiday. From our beach resort in Bentota, our bus started for Colombo at around 9 am, resounding with songs, clapping and laughter. We didn’t know then that around 10.20 am, our guide would get a phone call. His expression grew tense as he spoke to the caller at the other end. Picking up the mike, he said plans had changed. Due to unavoidable developments, we would not be proceeding to Colombo and were returning to Bentota.
What!!! Why??? Surprise and annoyance alternated among the passengers, but all he said was, “We are returning to Bentota.”Our anger evaporated at his next words. “There have been two-three bomb blasts in churches in Colombo and many people have been killed. Many more have been injured. The situation in the city is not good and security has been intensified. Our bus may not even enter Colombo City, forget about our Colombo resort,” he said.
After the guide’s announcement, a funereal silence descended on the bus as reports of blasts started pouring in. The death toll was increasing every 10-15 minutes. All of a sudden, the mood changed. The priority was the safety of the group and safe evacuation from Sri Lanka. Our main concern was to reschedule our flight back to India.
The mobile network was jammed and wi-fi at the resort was pretty poor. The death toll had by then gone up to over 200. We learned of eight blasts, including in some hotels in Colombo and churches of Negombo and Batticaloa. Then came a setback. Curfew was announced. But it was lifted by 6 am the next day. By then we had learned that it was terror attacks on the Christian community on Easter Sunday. We were concerned. Around 100-120 foreigners, mostly Western and possibly Christians, were at the resort that night. We hoped and prayed that the resort security was good and we would see each other in the morning. All of a sudden “Good night” held a special meaning for me. But I was concerned about an emergency declared in this small country. Have the airports been sealed? Nobody had any answers.
Around 6.30am the next day, we departed from Bentota straight to the airport. On the way, we took a bypass evading Colombo city and headed to the airport around 32 km away, situated near Negombo town. This small town was the most affected by the brutal bombings. Since security was on high alert, the bus was diverted many times. We drove through Negombo town but were not allowed to get out of the bus. The deserted streets looked haunted. In this small Christian-dominated town, we passed numerous empty churches that seemed to be mourning the victims silently. The only human presence was of grim-faced, uniformed soldiers and policemen with guns.
The way to the airport led past towards the District General Hospital, Negombo. The atmosphere was horrible. Cries of anguish filled the air. Ambulances with their sirens blaring carrying the injured and the dead were rushing towards the hospital. Hospital staff could be seen running towards the ambulances with stretchers. The doctors, nurses and orderlies were working at a furious pace. The wailing of relatives of the injured or the dead outside the hospital gates rent the air. It was heart-rending to see that security guards and hospital staff stopped them from entering the premises.
I grieved that some of the injured would have lost their battle with death by now. As our bus inched forward, the hospital slowly disappeared from view but the glimpses of chaos and panic we witnessed were enough to gauge the magnitude of the loss.
The remarkable contrast between the Sri Lankan media and ours struck me. There was not a single OB van of any TV channel making the rounds, or shrill reporters scurrying for “Breaking News” inside and outside the hospital. No “Apko kaisa lag raha hai?” Three to four km from the airport, we could feel the heat of security checks. It took around half an hour to cover 500 metres. At the first barrier, all vehicles were thoroughly screened and ‘suspicious-looking’ baggage was removed, opened and cleared after intense checking. The security personnel were from the Army, Air Force and the Navy.
As the bus approached the departure gates, we were asked to disembark and walk the last 500 metres carrying our baggage. Here again, the volunteer spirit in the middle of the tragedy was high. Luggage trolleys and wheelchairs for senior citizens were being arranged, even though everyone had to go through security screening, disability or none. The moment we queued up to enter the airport, a security man approached me and asked, “Are you from India?” I nodded.
He signalled me to go to the next gate, which was meant for the airport staff. The formalities were quickly completed and our flight took off. As I watched Colombo fade away beneath me, I could swear what had passed was just a nightmare. But the sights I witnessed in Negombo were only too real and will give me nightmares for days to come.
(The writer, Pune-based regional head (marketing) of an engineering MNC, was in Sri Lanka for vacation)