It was late afternoon, My colleagues and I were working in the IT department of Omnicom Fisheries ,my first workplace sent through our college for summer vacation on-the-job training . Few minutes later we heard some gunshots and a lot of commotion outside. We rushed to check if some “rogue” had entered to steal something. It wasn’t so, someone called out “stay inside” the “REBELS” are out there on the road, war has started.

Well , I thought it must be some rumor , and we decided to have a peek from the restroom, and we did. We saw our Deputy Manager with a gun in his hand talking to some people. Later he summoned us, asked us not to worry and he personally left each one of us safely back home. My parents breathed a sigh of relief after seeing the arrival of his Chevrolet marked with “OFI” on the number plate. That was the last I saw of him.

It was more of an adventure for me and my brothers. Later, our other Indian friends also moved to our house, since it was a huge home with a beautiful backyard facing the Atlantic beach. I loved to see the sunsets, the waters touch our walls, loved to watch the Ships which took halts, and the occasional dolphins.

As days passed by, the phone lines went off, electricity was hit, and gradually we had a shortage of potable water . Our food stock was getting low, and so we reduced our meals from thrice a day to twice a day and later to only once in a day. We all slept in the same hall, and shared some African voodoo (black magic) stories at night , We could also hear some African drums being played at night for “Wake Keeping”(a ritual followed by the Africans when a person dies). My brother took the pleasure in scaring me by telling the African ghost stories.

It was almost two months, but there were no signs of any ceasefire. By then we had become accustomed to the war, befriended the soldiers patrolling outside our home. It was sad though to see some of them dead at our gate, after the firings of all kinds – bullets,rockets, shells. Dad asked us to remain lying flat under the bed or the sofa’s. Lying down , we would giggle looking at each others’ faces, it seemed funny to us.

Finally, we received a message from our Indian Consular about the evacuation. We packed our bags with the minimal, and it was a sad moment to leave the African friends behind who had then become a part of our family, as we knew we would never meet again. Yes they died in the war.

We reached the U.S.Embassy, to be welcomed by the CNN Cameras, asking us our war experience. It was a relief for my family in New Jersey to see us alive on the T.V. channels. We were airlifted by the U.S.army choppers, and then dumped on the U.S. Marine Peace keeping Ship which carried us to the neighboring Sierra Leonne. We later boarded on a Lebanese plane which landed in Beirut(Lebanon). One person taunted “you are coming from a war country to another war country and going to India ... ha ha, there’s a war in Kashmir too “, I replied “I wouldn’t mind dying in my country”.

We finally traveled back to India on our own Air-India flight, only to find, the government taking away the passports for its expenses incurred on rescuing us.Days, Months and Years have passed now, we are probably dying of power cuts, unemployment, water-shortages, disloyalty from our fellowmen, corrupt politicians , and the long ques.

BUT Yet , I Love my country , my people , my city, the bhel-puris and paani puris , the “Philms” and the walks on M.G. Road , Boleto .. aapun to bahot khoosh hai, JAI HO !!

Oh yes , with the Internet I have been able to catch up with my Manager from OMNICOM on the Facebook