‘Line up against the wall and say your last prayers’

The year was 1995 and it was a day among the last few ones of Ramazan. Just as they had all through the holy month, men from the neighbourhood headed to the prayer area of the Mehfil-e-Murtaza Imambargah in Block III, PECHS for Fajr prayers after having their Sehri meal.

The imam, A Ayub Sabri, took up his customary place at the very front of the congregation knowing nothing of what was to transpire over the next few minutes.

A flash of lightning was followed by a crack of thunder as the men prostrated. Once done with the prayers, the congregation started to leave for their homes. Fate, though, would intervene: the thunder and lightning had given way to a heavy downpour and most of the worshippers opted for the shelter of the mosque.

At that very point in time a black-and-yellow taxi pulled up at the imambargah’s entrance. The vehicle’s doors were flung open and out came four men, each with a sub-machine gun in hand.

Spotting an ambulance driver stationed at a rescue service’s kiosk right next to the main gate, the gunmen took him hostage and ordered him to call out to everyone in the imambargah to gather in the prayer area.

This file photo shows empty bullet shells at the scene of the 1995 shooting at an imambargah in PECHS.

Utterly powerless at that moment, the rescue worker did what was asked of him and within minutes a group of 18 terrified people stood before the gunmen.

While one of the four attackers had stayed outside, the three others barked out orders to the worshippers to line up against a wall in the prayer area. The ambulance driver, who as luck would have it was not a member of the Shia community, was allowed to leave the premises.

Over the next 20 minutes, gunshot after gunshot rang out as the 18 hapless worshippers faced execution by the firing squad. Of the 18, four men miraculously lived to tell the surreal tale.

The 14 others were among the figure of 20 Shia men killed on that fateful day – February 25, 1995 – in attacks on two imambargahs in the city. The day’s other attack took place at the Masjid-e-Abul Fazil Abbas in PIB Colony where assailants shot dead six worshippers.

Surviving a firing squad

“I was six at the time so I stayed home when my father went to
lead the Fajr congregation that day. I don’t remember much; just that
the phone rang a little after Sehri
and that my mother was deathly silent when she put down the
receiver. Another hazy memory I have is of me crying when they brought Abbu’s body home,” says Zafar*, the now 27-year-old son of Ayub Sabri.

“A cousin of mine was among the four people who survived that sectarian death squad. The killers shot those people in bursts and when the first round was fired, my cousin was among the several victims who crumpled to the floor. He was shot four times but none of the wounds proved fatal. It was nothing but a miracle; it was as if he was destined to live.”

Another man’s funeral

Zainab’s* father was at the imambargah that day to arrange for his brother-in-law’s funeral. He was made to join the ranks of those about to be shot and was not as fortunate as Ali’s cousin.

“I was nine years old at the time. My maternal uncle had passed away and my father had gone to Mehfil-e-Murtaza to finalise the burial arrangements. At first, we only came to know of the attack and not that Baba was among the victims. It was absolutely harrowing; we had never even imagined such brutality, let alone live through it.

“Our hope for Baba’s safety lasted for less than an hour, when his best friend’s wife showed up at our doorstep. Till today, though, we marvel at the fact that Baba had sent my brothers and cousins back home from the imambargah less than 30 minutes before the massacre.

“He had a big heart. I remember that Ramazan he had assigned us cousins the task of distributing gift packs with school supplies. Like every year, he had promised us a treat for our troubles. When Baba left the house that day with my uncle’s body, no one knew he would be returning that night in a shroud.”

*Names changed to protect privacy