India Uncut

They were burning him as if playing a normal street game. A few kept him pinned down to the ground while others poured petrol on him. After kicking him to the content of their hearts they torched him. With a burning body, he ran here and there. Someone brought a burning tire and with the help of a long rod and put it around his neck, receiving a great round of applause. They clapped and they chatted. There was no sound coming from him. He just ran like a giant flame, aimlessly flailing his arms in order to capture something in the air. They playfully avoided him, giggling, joking. Then he fell on the ground, giving up the fight against the unknown demons. Some just danced around without purpose, clapping each others’ backs. None looked angry. None of them looked familiar. I watched this from my window. I knew that it was just a matter of someone pointing to our house. With bated breath I waited. Every second was like an hour. I knew they would move on looking for the next victim to kill, the next house or shop to loot and burn, but when? Would they discover our house before that? This thought redefined the way I think of home.