My Prayer & A Salute

After Terror Tuesday, life became normal for most of Mumbaikars except for a few who witnessed loss of lives, flying limbs and mangled bodies, up close.

Some slipped into a state of shock, some into a state of denial over their loved ones getting lost or maimed forever.

Everyone reflected the famous never-say-die-attitude, although a tired and wary expression clouded every single face. They didn’t know what they were exuding. I happened to notice the extreme emptiness and the effort of holding on getting to the Mumbaiites.

The blasts were something that I had always seen in the movies, and never believed. I was really shaken by the reality of the 1993 blasts (or any other blasts-the Madrid bombing, the London tube bombing) only after I saw Black Friday. A true account of what really occurred. The reality hit me hard then, and now, today, I was saddened by what I saw, as I ventured out of the house to relax and look around, the first time in a lot of weeks.

My home was never like this before. Mumbai was never like this. It was always lively, bubbly and its energy was infectious. Mumbai and its life seemed unusual and alien to me today. A discrepant silence hung over; there was no literal silence but spirits seemed low. Borivli, Andheri and Santacruz stations seemed like graveyards compared to what they were before. Activity was on all right. Trade worked its way into the shop accountants registers. Hawkers continued to sell their wares-cheap clothes, earrings, belts, footwear and a lot more for thrifty customers. Sandwich, Pav Bhaji and Dosa-Walas had their share of customers too. Just that the glowing enthusiasm that was so synonymous of Mumbai seemed to fade out.

Police lined every single nook and corner of Borivli station, in clusters and singly. They seemed tired too. But nobody gave the impression of giving up or giving in. The hawkers frequenting the footpaths had been evacuated. Police constables remained vigilant that no hawking space was occupied, trying as best as they could to take care and check for any sinister objects where crowds assembled. I found some shops shut down, and the ones that were functioning had just a trickle of customers. Who would want to buy, indulge or celebrate in such times? The roads were depressingly empty. For the first time, the traffic moved quickly and my rickshaw meter showed a lower fare than the usual one of traffic-congested days. People weren’t out in hoards like they used to be once upon a time, just a week back…

I know of people and acquaintances that have lost their loved ones. I used to rejoice when I was in school when we used to get a holiday owing to someone’s death. For the first time, I felt sad and ashamed of all those rejoicing times in school when I heard that a college staff member had expired due to the terrorists’ dastardly act. I know of people who escaped death by the skin of their teeth. I read accounts of helpful deeds by people who couldn’t sit at home watching and listening to news of the number of limbs carried in sacks at Bhayander station or the toll rise of the dead. I read of a 70 year women who served tea and coffee to the injured and their families, the doctors in hospitals and the media people. And every time I read this I felt chills running down my spine and I cried inwardly.

I don’t like this. My Media Studies professor was telling us political apathy is badly setting in, in Mumbai. And I realised that it is. Well so be it! At the rate the politicians are using this goldmine let the power be ours! What was the need for Sonia Gandhi and ManMohan Singh had to come down here? Were they here to bring the dead back alive or to catch the terrorists? And they pulled the police force from Ground Zero where they were really needed, for their own security! Kya ukhad liya idhar aake PM ne? Sheesh! We could’ve taken a lesson or two from London’s 7/7 bombing and evacuated all trains in the four minutes time gap between the blast at Jogeshwari and the next one.

People are tired. Please don’t bomb us anymore. We are resilient. Our shoulders are sagging but we will keep on fighting.
Mumbai will never die, listen you terrorists. I hope some of your clansmen and women are reading this and a lot more of the kind to know that your time will come soon.

Whoever said Mumbai is the rudest city in the world, eh? Reader’s Digest, you had better eat humble pie and take your words back!! Damn you! Go on. Now write more about us, write more about Mumbai and its people and our so-called going-to-the-dogs-etiquettes! Write about our acts of bravery and kindness. Do another survey, you suckers!!

I was being indifferent at first at all this. Next time, if this ever happens I will do my bit by helping. But I hope there never comes a next time. I love my home too much. My salute to all the brave ones out there.

Amen.