On the fateful night of October 12, 2002, I was in the Sari Club, which is located in the busy entertainment precinct of Kuta, Bali – one of Indonesia’s key international tourist destinations. It was hot and humid, the music was pumping and everyone was talking, laughing and dancing.

Seated behind the sunken bar, I struck up conversation with two Australian girls. Suddenly, a deafening explosion rocked the Legian beach strip. We looked south towards Paddy’s Bar and witnessed a black mushroom cloud of smoke rise from the roof.

Someone shouted, ‘What the hell was that?’

Only seconds later, the Bintang bottle in my hand shattered, as a powerful car bomb ripped apart the Sari Club.

I was buried alive and fighting for my life