I was in Turkey in 2016 when the army decided to overthrow the govt — killing 300 civilians
You may think a near-death experience would make you braver in your “new life” — not as conscious of judgment or no longer fretting the small stuff, but that’s rarely true. I wish it was.
I was in Turkey when the military coup unfolded. This is how I remember the events of the long night.
At first, everybody thought it was a terrorist attack.
Until we learnt that it was the army trying to overthrow the current government.
The army was on the streets with tanks, guns, and helicopters.
It was panic and chaos.
What was happening with me?
My first reaction was to find a washroom.
Once I found one in a small restaurant, I locked myself in and looked into the mirror.
I saw a face staring back at me with disbelief. I was in shock.
I sat down, took a few deep breaths, and then let my fight & flight mode kick in, knowing I didn’t have much time until someone knocked on the door.
I stepped out onto the streets trying to find a means of transportation to reach my rented apartment. With public transportation out of the picture, I had to count on a stranger’s generosity.
I spoke very little Turkish.
The first stranger I asked for help was an old man, who turned out to be the coolest old man I have met to date. He was driving an SUV and he agreed to give me a lift.
He spoke very little English.
He had the radio on and was hearing the president speak in Turkish.
On the first turn, another young woman knocked on the windows asking for help in Turkish. The old man asked her to quickly get in.
The old man drove fast and furiously through the smaller lanes as the scene of the civil war was playing out on the main roads. Taking sharp turns, entering even smaller lanes, and having to take many u-turns when we faced chaos.
I asked the woman if she could translate the radio announcements for me in English. The phone was of no use with no cellular network and an internet blackout.
She told me it was crazy! The president was encouraging protestations even as we could hear gunfires.
The old man dropped us off a few blocks away from my apartment. This was the furthest he could get.
The young woman and I ran for our lives as we were being deafened by the omnipresent sound of the helicopter. We were running downhill and then parted ways wishing each other safety as our paths diverged.
Now it was an uphill road for me. I wished I was faster on my feet and perhaps being lighter would have helped.
I finally reached the apartment only to realize I had no way to communicate with my friends or family. A more delayed realization was that it was the middle of the night in India and even if I could find a way to communicate — they possibly won’t be reachable.
Here I was, so far from home, just having survived a near-death experience and not knowing how or who to call to share what just happened.
So, I had some water and lay on the sofa staring at the fan — worrying about the immediate future.
How will I survive once I run out of water and basic food supplies?
What would I do if someone shows up at the door asking for help?
What if someone from the army shows up?
How will I get back home?
Eventually, it all worked out for me with a lot of luck at play.
I was able to gather enough basic supplies to last a few days until the flights resumed.
My return ticket was booked for the same day that the flights resumed.
I was able to check in to my flight even when it seemed the whole of Turkey was in the queue.
The flight I was on didn’t get canceled or delayed even as many others did.
Once I landed home in Mumbai, I had my elder sister pick me up at the airport.
Everything seemed so normal, so ordinary.
This part of the world seemed untouched by the happenings of the place I had just fled.
