First person account: Watching dance of death by the window
'Had my cousin not refused me for tea in judicial complex, I could have possibly been one of the assault casualties'
A suicide bomber first threw a grenade in the court room before blowing himself up. PHOTO: MUHAMMAD IQBAL/ EXPRESS
PESHAWAR:
A cup of tea could have had me killed on Monday. It was a case of escaping death by a whisker.
Had my cousin, Advocate Muhammad Bashar, not refused me for tea in the judicial complex, which came under a daring militant attack, the two of us, along with Shahzad Anjum, the court reporter for Daily Aaj, could have possibly been one of the casualties of the assault.
Just three minutes past 12:00 pm, I walked out of the complex and towards the high court after Bashar declined to have tea with us. I stopped moving ahead to confirm the location of firing of an automatic machinegun within the court premises.
I peered through a nearby window and saw police personnel chasing a man to stop him from entering the judicial complex. After barely 10 seconds, I heard a low intensity blast – apparently of a hand grenade.
I ran towards another window to get a better view and at the same time I began calling Jamshed Baghwan, the Express News Peshawar bureau chief, to report the incident.
But just as I was punching in his number on my phone, a thunderous explosion stopped me in my tracks and left me stunned.
Even then, in a state of shock, I continued trying to contact Baghwan to break the news.
At the same time, I began searching for refuge. I almost entered the veranda which leads to the offices of the Peshawar High Court (PHC) registrar and the principal staff officer for Chief Justice Dost Muhammad Khan but turned around, keeping in view their profile. I thought, militants may hold them (the officials) hostage and I may fall prey. That meant I would not be able to gather any information on the attacks.
In fact, I informed my family, who knew I was in court, after I got in touch with the office.
The firing was intense and I was so engrossed in updating the office that I hadn’t realised I was standing right in front of a window, exposed to the battle outside.
A hand suddenly pulled me down.
It was Shahzad Anjum. He pulled me down so I would not receive a bullet (Thank you, Shahzad Bhai).
I could see some people running into the huge veranda to find shelter, while others were trying to enter the high court building from the judicial complex using a small bridge that connects the two buildings. Most of them had dropped their belongings in a run for their lives.
I was updating Express News and Hero TV minute by minute – but had forgotten to see my second cell phone on which my father was frantically calling. I called back to tell him I was alive but told him not to tell my mother, who would start worrying.
My cousin – who without knowing he had saved my life –also called me seven times but I was busy covering the shootout, which I continued to for more than 30 minutes.
I stood up and peered out of the window. I saw a police constable aiming at someone. He was trying to take position behind a car in the lawyers’ car parking at the back of Nishtar Hall, which indicated that someone had entered the complex.
The situation began to calm down at around 1:15 and I asked Anjum if he wanted to get closer to the complex. He agreed and we went outside the high court building but security personnel warned us against moving ahead as they suspected someone was hiding in the complex’s basement.
All the while, I had not spoken to my mother. I guess, in a way, I should thank the government for the prolonged electricity outage, which meant the television at my house was not working. She remained clueless about the attack.
Published in The Express Tribune, March 19th, 2013.
A cup of tea could have had me killed on Monday. It was a case of escaping death by a whisker.
Had my cousin, Advocate Muhammad Bashar, not refused me for tea in the judicial complex, which came under a daring militant attack, the two of us, along with Shahzad Anjum, the court reporter for Daily Aaj, could have possibly been one of the casualties of the assault.
Just three minutes past 12:00 pm, I walked out of the complex and towards the high court after Bashar declined to have tea with us. I stopped moving ahead to confirm the location of firing of an automatic machinegun within the court premises.
I peered through a nearby window and saw police personnel chasing a man to stop him from entering the judicial complex. After barely 10 seconds, I heard a low intensity blast – apparently of a hand grenade.
I ran towards another window to get a better view and at the same time I began calling Jamshed Baghwan, the Express News Peshawar bureau chief, to report the incident.
But just as I was punching in his number on my phone, a thunderous explosion stopped me in my tracks and left me stunned.
Even then, in a state of shock, I continued trying to contact Baghwan to break the news.
At the same time, I began searching for refuge. I almost entered the veranda which leads to the offices of the Peshawar High Court (PHC) registrar and the principal staff officer for Chief Justice Dost Muhammad Khan but turned around, keeping in view their profile. I thought, militants may hold them (the officials) hostage and I may fall prey. That meant I would not be able to gather any information on the attacks.
In fact, I informed my family, who knew I was in court, after I got in touch with the office.
The firing was intense and I was so engrossed in updating the office that I hadn’t realised I was standing right in front of a window, exposed to the battle outside.
A hand suddenly pulled me down.
It was Shahzad Anjum. He pulled me down so I would not receive a bullet (Thank you, Shahzad Bhai).
I could see some people running into the huge veranda to find shelter, while others were trying to enter the high court building from the judicial complex using a small bridge that connects the two buildings. Most of them had dropped their belongings in a run for their lives.
I was updating Express News and Hero TV minute by minute – but had forgotten to see my second cell phone on which my father was frantically calling. I called back to tell him I was alive but told him not to tell my mother, who would start worrying.
My cousin – who without knowing he had saved my life –also called me seven times but I was busy covering the shootout, which I continued to for more than 30 minutes.
I stood up and peered out of the window. I saw a police constable aiming at someone. He was trying to take position behind a car in the lawyers’ car parking at the back of Nishtar Hall, which indicated that someone had entered the complex.
The situation began to calm down at around 1:15 and I asked Anjum if he wanted to get closer to the complex. He agreed and we went outside the high court building but security personnel warned us against moving ahead as they suspected someone was hiding in the complex’s basement.
All the while, I had not spoken to my mother. I guess, in a way, I should thank the government for the prolonged electricity outage, which meant the television at my house was not working. She remained clueless about the attack.
Published in The Express Tribune, March 19th, 2013.