The Suicide Bomber


Word Count-600

“You’ll be a martyr for the cause”, he told her emotionally, his eyes moist.
Her heavy bust swelled and her pale rounded face broke into a toothy smile.
“I want to die for the cause”, her thick voice rasped I cannot wait.
He looked at her directly. A thin wiry man his hooded eyes and swarthy skin had attracted her immediately. Not used to getting attention from her own people the dark skinned Abdul had floored her with his compliments.
An unhappy childhood, lonely teenage years, and a drunken father had sapped her energy. Twice she had run away from home only to be brought back by the police.
Her father had said she had lucky to be brought back home, otherwise the rest of her years would have been spent in a dirty whorehouse.
He had taken to referring her as ‘the little whore’ and she had in a fit of rage once attempted to smash his head with a bottle. Taken into care she had turned abusive and violent which had further intensified her loneliness.
Abdul was the sole person who had befriended her with love.
Now he looked at her meltingly and held her hand. “I’ll be there too, he told her, not far away from you”, his hold on her firm and warm.
She could have died then, for his cause, which had now become hers. He had taken her into confidence early in the short span they had known each other. As if he had known how deep were her feelings for him, which had translated into the abundance of emotions she had felt for his people, his beliefs and creed. She had felt a deep passionate devotion for what he and his like-minded friends propounded. She had hardly had any friends and to be accepted into this profoundly committed circle had made her feel blessed.
Now she held herself straight proud of what she was about to do. Proud because it made her feel special, proud because her unspent anger was being directed at the people she believed responsible for it.
He looked at her lingeringly for the last time, as she set out, her bulky figure and round face seemingly aglow with an inner fire that today burnt unrestricted and unashamed.
The area where the great deed was to take place was bustling with activity. Multitudes of people thronged the streets .She stood here contemplating the people thinking soon they would all die… die from the bomb set off by her. She stood casually in front of a bistro drinking coffee from the large cup. She inhaled the aroma, the hot brew teasing her senses in the biting cold. She knew she had to do her stuff when she spied Abdul. He would signal her and then…
As he was in her thoughts she spied him at the corner. There was a posse of policemen nearby armed because of the recent threats from various jihadi organizations.
He seemed nervous of them not glancing in her direction. She was glad he would watch her die for him and the cause. She glanced balefully at the policemen, looking at Abdul from the corner of her eye. They must not know he was with her. He had to carry on the work of the cause.
He signaled and as if by reflex she went into motion. Shards and splinters were all around and blood. Blood spilling everywhere from many bodies.

There was not much left of her. However she would not know the policemen gunned down Abdul soon after suspecting him of being the catalyst.

The Suicide Bomber


Noida, India

  • Artist

Artist's Description

about fanatical adherence to a cause when all else ceases to matter



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