And He has the Audacity to SMILE?

Kasab that is. The Man and The situation Ive been avoiding talking about before I Spent the three most horrendous and testing days of my life. But right now, as i read article after article of the man sitting contemptuously in Indian Jail, with no signs of remorse, whatsoever I just cannot leave this emotion behind. Even as I write, the words are flowing in hard, harsh strokes of the keyboard, each vying with the other to be typed next.

This man, who along with his colleagues ran amok and devastated lives of thousands of Indians on the ill-fated day of 26/11 sits with a snide smile on his face, with the cheek to make demands such as asking for a newspaper? (With money recovered on his person that day, no less). What right does he have to even have a trial. Emotional and unfair (??) this might sound to a few, but there isn't a single bone in my body that believes he deserves to be living till this day. He certainly is happy he's alive, and trying to ensure further extension of the same by trying to get a Pakistani lawyer to defend him.

His mother's going to come for the trial it seems. I hope he sees the despondent look in her eyes and feels miserable, like a stinking pile of the worst kind of rotten flesh possible. To top it off, a survivor, Andreina Varagona FORGIVES him. I'm sure shes entitled to her opinion and I congratulate her on her large heart and ability to overcome the trauma she endured. But I will not bother pretending I can. I'm a petty little person who cant find it in her heart to forgive this man who raped my city, took our families hostage and showed us what living hell was about.
I cannot. I'm sorry. I believe what happened was was beyond the periphery of even cruel human behaviour, and does not warrant forgiveness.

Families are broken, women have lost their sole bread earners, they're still living the aftereffects of 26/11. I spoke with Karuna Waghela last night, widowed by 26/11, with 3 kids to support and shes become very close to my heart now. She broke down on the phone while I was speaking with her last night, telling me she was missing her husband, that he was a kind man, and she feels alone now.. it took everything inside me to hang on, reassure her I'm there and she can call me whenever and not break into a sob myself.

It was right after this phone call that I saw this bit of news with Mr. Kasab. Even the mention of his name fills me with retch, let alone his sardonic, smug face. If I ever meet him, rest assured, I will murder him with my bare hands. restrain me.

Shabira Khan still in hospital, nearly 6 months after the attacks - Wadala Port Trust. Injured in the Wadi Bunder taxi blast as the terrorists wanted to wipe clean their imprints of their entry and exit. I visited her 3 months ago, and she was one of the few left behind in the hospitals. Today, she is the only one. Then, she had shrapnel embedded in her leg, and back but seemed to be on the way to recovery. today it is hampered by the onslaught of Jaundice, and other diseases. 3 Months ago, she seemed desperate to go back to the mundane inconsistencies she battled in her everyday life. Selfish and weak it may sound, but not only did i not have the courage to go alone (i took A) but I was also feeling so hurt, I just wanted to leave as soon as I could. The thought of her languishing in the hospital, 3 months on, is just deeply sad.
For all of the above I blame Kasab, and his other accomplices who I Wish were alive, Being shot down dead is far too lenient and easy death for them, their mentors in our neighbouring country, who continue to feign ignorance of their nationals participation. How could they. HOW. WHY.

My dad walked home 4 days later emotionally battered, and physically worn. It will suffice to say that I went through NOTHING compared to Karuna, Moumina, and the other victims (NOT EVEN CLOSE). But when I speak with Karuna, I cry inside too. I feel her pain and her loss, and when she cries back I have NO WORDS to say to her. My usual elaborate self is stifled with things to say or even do. Last night she called me her sister. And that's a relationship I have to give my best to. Luckily at Indiahelps, we're one big family. Karuna actually has more than 10 sisters and a few brothers too, she just doesn't know it.

Its all coming flooding back. And it hurts. And no, its not OK. Fathers, mothers, wives, kids who died then are never coming back, and they were invaluable to each family they belonged to.
Today I cant go shopping, eating, to a movie, club, train without being frisked. Everyones a terrorist until proven innocent. Gun men, sand barracks, armed police, police nakas are a way of our life, accept it or not.

And while all this happens, our dear Netas, our guiders, policy makers, protectors and guardians
sort out other important issues of gudiya-budhiya and who-called-whom-what and who-got-upset-at-being-called that. F*CK off all of you. Does NO ONE see the bigger picture here? How many lessons do we need to learn?
For the Harsh Point of view, and harsher words, Im NOT sorry.