Last week, when I was at work - I opened google to look for some competitive info on Apple and the first news link I saw was Mumbai attacked - 3 serial blasts... I dint even bother to open the link and read the story and immediately dialed home. Panic ensued as I saw Zaveri Bazar, Dadar west, Opera House -- places where a lot of my friends live, work or could be. I couldnt get through to anyone, and that moment everything dulled into motionless silence. My fingers were trembling as I dialed mom repeatedly, cursing the calling card lenghty procedures, and thinking of the worst case scenarios.. Even after I got through to mom, dad remained out of contact as he was travelling in from out of town that day and we spent 4 hours out of contact with him, many of which had me sitting at work, trembling at my blurry screen with my phone buzzing with friends in the US asking about my family. I felt numb.
I wrote to a friend of mine who lives in Mumbai if his family was ok -and was enraged to see his response -- " Yep, my friends and family are fine :)" SMILEY FACE. i wrote back a nasty one liner saying im glad, but Mumbai was bombed - thrice, there was nothing to smile about. I feel bad at having judged him, but I have no tolerance for people whose lives are focused only around their frinds and family.. life's much bigger than that. even when my dad came home after 26/11 safe and sound after such an experience, we did not celebrate, it was a small respite. We mourned for the people who left us, for the wounds of the attack and for the attack on our souls.
Whats different this time and what ALL the media is writing about is 'indifference' -- has mumbai's spirit has been misunderstood all along? I want to say no, but circumstances prove otherwise. When i spoke to my mom i was sobbing, far far away from home, helpless and frustrated and angry and sad for my city -- while my mom calmed me saying 'what are you doing crying? nothing can be done about this. we had 3 years of peace, now a days even thats a lot'. I was angry. I messaged a friend back home who was at a bar whol told me people continued to be at the bar even post this incident. All the newspaper articles, media interviews, seem like reruns - still fresh in my ears from 26/11. The angry cliches, the frustrated citizens, each network hoping and trying to depict a facet of the attacks which no other networks would. Each channel 'BREAKING NEWS' again and again.
And then i think of resilience. I dont have the patience, naivete, or will to listen to empty promises, finger pointing and more of the same ol same ol. I think of my city after the train blasts. after 26/11 blasts. after blasts in Pune, after blasts last week. seems routine now, more mundane. These blasts were apparently of 'medium' intensity since ONLY '22' people died.
Apparently the cost of a life goes up every few years - the government thinks a sizeable compensation is its only duty. Funny, how the safest man in Mumbai is probably one who was a part of kiling 250 of us - Kasab. each day he lives, its a mockery of our system. India needs to be more aggresive before people take us seriously. and that can happen only when it makes it clear to the rest of the world that it means business when it comes to its citizens. I dont feel like my government does - why would anyone else??
Showing posts with label terror attacks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label terror attacks. Show all posts
Friday, July 22, 2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Day # 3 NYC!
Much as I love the rain, and it has been well documented on this blog, and MUCH as I miss it in Texas, this was one trip I could have done without. It rained all day, I was soaked to the bone, which basically meant i bought a whole new set, right down to innerwear just to stop being cranky. I missed the ferry to Ellis island, couldnt see the statue of liberty OR go to the observation deck atop rockefeller center. GAH.
I did go to the WTC memorial site - a collection of stories and memorabilia from 9/11... I am not American, neither do I belong here, but I was overcome with emotion as I saw little postcards and notes and photos of moms and dads pasted by little kids on the memorial wall - the wall of hugs, the flag of honor with everyones names, the wall of photos... even after having witnessed 26/11 so up close, I cannot begin to imagine what this city went through..my heart goes out to victims, survivors and the affected...
Thats the beauty of a city - of being able to pick up the pieces, rebuild, renew and move strong, undaunted by foolish people who think they're following the will of god... a city that can come to grips with a tragedy like this, mourn together, move on, and never, ever forget. My Mumbai too, is a strong survivor, resilient against repeated attacks - vulnerable, but undaunted. NYC - always on the move, pulsating with throngs of people from all over the world, with a life underground as electric and vibrant as that above is a fantastic city with a soul, I love it!
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
26/11 - You Heard My story, now hear his.
Last year, on the 26th Of November, My Dad walked into the Trident after hearing of some 'random bomb blast' in the Lobby. We didnt know what was happening as the media had reported stories ranging from Shiv Sena to local gangs to what not. We werent strangers to Hostile situations. 26/11 was certainly the worst, but not the first time My dads put his life on the line in the Call of Duty.
Little did we know what he was getting into.
You Heard my story - Now Hear His. My Dad, My hero.
(click on picture for embedded video)
Little did we know what he was getting into.
You Heard my story - Now Hear His. My Dad, My hero.
(click on picture for embedded video)
Monday, June 29, 2009
Almost Family
Remember this? Its still there. And very painful. Although after considerable pain and uncomfortable toe stubbing and foot stepping instances, I have been regularly visiting my doctor every saturday morning at 7.30, bright and early. I drive down to town (a.k.a. Colaba!!) get a bloody (and I mean that literally) scraping done, the resultant wound cleaned and dressed and proceed to begin getting all my other errands done. Being a dutiful homely (!) girl I buy the weeks vegetables, get the passbook updated (yes some banks still use them), buy groceries (or, in Defence kids terms, go to the canteen), and other adhoc things that crop up during the week.
Its odd, we've moved, but we still visit the same tailor, the same doctor, buy our vegetables from the same vendors in Navy Nagar (the Fruitwala bhaiyya always cuts me a fruit when he sees me, and insists he's going to supply the fruits at my wedding, whether or not we invite him. Needless to say, he's invited), get our sheets laundered from Moti Bhaiyya (whose Dad was our Dhobi, so to say from the time we've moved to Mumbai) who operates from inside Navy Nagar, but insists on still picking up our laundry by kinetic and dropping it off.
The More I grumbled about having a million errands to run each time I head this side of town, the more I realize that these aren't errands, they're contact points that we've maintained since over 20 years. They're people and faces we've been living around. We've seen Moti Bhaiyya come to our house as a pimply faced teenager on his cycle, been invited to his wedding and met his babies. The fruit and Vegetable bhaiyyas dont let me carry my bag to the car, they call me Bitiya - having seen me scamper around my folks impatiently as a small girl. Prem Bhaiyya (Moti Bhaiyyas younger brother) grew from taking laundry on a bicycle to a top executive working in an IT firm, and yet last year, to invite us for his wedding, he came in shorts armed with our clean and ironed clothes - a lesson to us in Humility and being down to earth.
These aren't errands. They're all people my Dad's help find jobs, place kids, give advice on schools and colleges and what not, who repay him with ardent respect and relentless dedication.
They're people who called us every few hours on the 26th 27th and 28th of Nov when Daddy was inside the Trident, knowing he wouldve driven in, to find out if he's alive, and stopped only when I assured them on friday (29th) that he is ok, and wont be coming home anytime soon, but is fine neverthless. RamNiwas, Daddys masseur whose duty is fixed at my house on saturday evenings since nearly the last 15 years, spoke to me in broken tones saying he couldnt work until I call and tell him Dad's ok. They prayed with us and cried with us. And they're not family and technically not friends. But so much more.
Sometimes in life there are people who impact your lives in ways you never knew, because you never had to think about it. Relations beyond the skeletal definitions of relatives, family and friends.
26/11 gave me a reason to think of all the people who called and messaged and prayed with us. A reason to think of all the people who affect my family's lives and whose lives we affect. The first few days were spent in shocked stupor, the next few in exhausted haze. Its only a week or two after the event that happenings of those few days would come back suddenly and I would remember someone unexpected who would have called or messaged, and Id sit back and feel overwhelmed. People who we hadnt heard from in years, some even decades, but they came through for us.
Something we don't care to give a thought to, in our frenzied haste to get through our lives. In most cases we're left to realize how much a person impacted our lives after they're gone, and remembering tiny symbolic instances of their love or our connection with them.
I wish I could convince you how important it is to love wholly and deeply, to give completely and unrepentantly, do away with ego and high handedness, apologise appropriately and act responsibly, hold together tight and close people who're worth it, and have them know it. Because it is so, very important. If you can manage, tell me how.
Its odd, we've moved, but we still visit the same tailor, the same doctor, buy our vegetables from the same vendors in Navy Nagar (the Fruitwala bhaiyya always cuts me a fruit when he sees me, and insists he's going to supply the fruits at my wedding, whether or not we invite him. Needless to say, he's invited), get our sheets laundered from Moti Bhaiyya (whose Dad was our Dhobi, so to say from the time we've moved to Mumbai) who operates from inside Navy Nagar, but insists on still picking up our laundry by kinetic and dropping it off.
The More I grumbled about having a million errands to run each time I head this side of town, the more I realize that these aren't errands, they're contact points that we've maintained since over 20 years. They're people and faces we've been living around. We've seen Moti Bhaiyya come to our house as a pimply faced teenager on his cycle, been invited to his wedding and met his babies. The fruit and Vegetable bhaiyyas dont let me carry my bag to the car, they call me Bitiya - having seen me scamper around my folks impatiently as a small girl. Prem Bhaiyya (Moti Bhaiyyas younger brother) grew from taking laundry on a bicycle to a top executive working in an IT firm, and yet last year, to invite us for his wedding, he came in shorts armed with our clean and ironed clothes - a lesson to us in Humility and being down to earth.
These aren't errands. They're all people my Dad's help find jobs, place kids, give advice on schools and colleges and what not, who repay him with ardent respect and relentless dedication.
They're people who called us every few hours on the 26th 27th and 28th of Nov when Daddy was inside the Trident, knowing he wouldve driven in, to find out if he's alive, and stopped only when I assured them on friday (29th) that he is ok, and wont be coming home anytime soon, but is fine neverthless. RamNiwas, Daddys masseur whose duty is fixed at my house on saturday evenings since nearly the last 15 years, spoke to me in broken tones saying he couldnt work until I call and tell him Dad's ok. They prayed with us and cried with us. And they're not family and technically not friends. But so much more.
Sometimes in life there are people who impact your lives in ways you never knew, because you never had to think about it. Relations beyond the skeletal definitions of relatives, family and friends.
26/11 gave me a reason to think of all the people who called and messaged and prayed with us. A reason to think of all the people who affect my family's lives and whose lives we affect. The first few days were spent in shocked stupor, the next few in exhausted haze. Its only a week or two after the event that happenings of those few days would come back suddenly and I would remember someone unexpected who would have called or messaged, and Id sit back and feel overwhelmed. People who we hadnt heard from in years, some even decades, but they came through for us.
Something we don't care to give a thought to, in our frenzied haste to get through our lives. In most cases we're left to realize how much a person impacted our lives after they're gone, and remembering tiny symbolic instances of their love or our connection with them.
I wish I could convince you how important it is to love wholly and deeply, to give completely and unrepentantly, do away with ego and high handedness, apologise appropriately and act responsibly, hold together tight and close people who're worth it, and have them know it. Because it is so, very important. If you can manage, tell me how.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
And We Wait....
For Justice. For Answers. For Action.
Each day I watch ardently, hopefully (to no avail) as just more and more of the same cat and mouse game continues on the news. Each day I wish that someone would take a FIRM stand on things, and say it like it is. Maybe its just me, but I think we've reached a point where 'DIPLOMATIC' is the last thing I want to be. Two days ago Mr. Pranab Mukherjee realizes The terror attacks were a cold and calculated act”, (Really, What a revelation. And here we were, thinking it was a stroke of luck for the terrorists that they managed so much damage)
As I stood at my window overlooking the Badhwar park sea just a day ago, I thought had I been in my window on that ill fated day. I could've seen them probably. Get off, Unload. And what an eerie thought it is.
Lets pretend this plan was hatched only 6 months ago. Picture the Mastermind Lashkar-e-Toiba (LeT)'s Zakiur Rehman Lakhvi and a few others sitting around in a dinghy room in our dear Neighbouring (Friendly) country. I wonder who it was that came up with the idea. Did they have a good laugh after coming up with such an ingenious plan? Or pat themselves on their backs for their plan? Or was it grim silence while they contemplated the task that lay before them.. recce of the places, training to the selected, selection of the executioners? Do they have families? Wives? Mothers? Do their mothers know they raised vicious heartless ruthless men? Can they see it in their eyes?
Did they spend the run up days to November 26th in eager anticipation of their attack? Did they pray to Allah before they embarked on their mission? Why did Allah listen to them? Didn't he know better?
Understanding the psyche of such deranged demonic men gives me goosebumps. I wonder what they were talking about on the dinghy on their way... When they could see the lights at Badhwar park, while we all went about our mundane activities unaware...
Did any one have cold feet? Even for a second? Did they expect to see each other again? Did they really think they'd achieve some form of sainthood,nirvana, jannat?
I wonder what we were all doing at the time... its an eerie feeling. That we went about our daily life, groaning about its inconsistencies while such a sinister plot was already underway. Who knows, there could be a meeting in process right now?
But the Mayhem continues, Tongues wag, and more politicians embarrass themselves. Nearly a month down the line, we are still looking for a strong, reassuring voice, a resilient defiant stand against the perpetrators, and an end to being taken for granted. Both as a country, and as a citizen.
And we wait.
Each day I watch ardently, hopefully (to no avail) as just more and more of the same cat and mouse game continues on the news. Each day I wish that someone would take a FIRM stand on things, and say it like it is. Maybe its just me, but I think we've reached a point where 'DIPLOMATIC' is the last thing I want to be. Two days ago Mr. Pranab Mukherjee realizes The terror attacks were a cold and calculated act”, (Really, What a revelation. And here we were, thinking it was a stroke of luck for the terrorists that they managed so much damage)
As I stood at my window overlooking the Badhwar park sea just a day ago, I thought had I been in my window on that ill fated day. I could've seen them probably. Get off, Unload. And what an eerie thought it is.
Lets pretend this plan was hatched only 6 months ago. Picture the Mastermind Lashkar-e-Toiba (LeT)'s Zakiur Rehman Lakhvi and a few others sitting around in a dinghy room in our dear Neighbouring (Friendly) country. I wonder who it was that came up with the idea. Did they have a good laugh after coming up with such an ingenious plan? Or pat themselves on their backs for their plan? Or was it grim silence while they contemplated the task that lay before them.. recce of the places, training to the selected, selection of the executioners? Do they have families? Wives? Mothers? Do their mothers know they raised vicious heartless ruthless men? Can they see it in their eyes?
Did they spend the run up days to November 26th in eager anticipation of their attack? Did they pray to Allah before they embarked on their mission? Why did Allah listen to them? Didn't he know better?
Understanding the psyche of such deranged demonic men gives me goosebumps. I wonder what they were talking about on the dinghy on their way... When they could see the lights at Badhwar park, while we all went about our mundane activities unaware...
Did any one have cold feet? Even for a second? Did they expect to see each other again? Did they really think they'd achieve some form of sainthood,nirvana, jannat?
I wonder what we were all doing at the time... its an eerie feeling. That we went about our daily life, groaning about its inconsistencies while such a sinister plot was already underway. Who knows, there could be a meeting in process right now?
But the Mayhem continues, Tongues wag, and more politicians embarrass themselves. Nearly a month down the line, we are still looking for a strong, reassuring voice, a resilient defiant stand against the perpetrators, and an end to being taken for granted. Both as a country, and as a citizen.
And we wait.
Friday, December 12, 2008
'WE' the Change, 'BE' the change..
I know most of you will read this post, with a few quick glances and close it. Some might even linger for a few minutes, think a while and then move on. This is for those of us who will read each word, understand the significance and realize the importance of US. You and me. The common man. The devastated Mumbaikar. Shaken and stirred.
Last week as our city and our families sat gripped in the claws of terror, you and me could do NOTHING about it. I watched the news for an agonizing 3 days with little or no news from my father inside the Trident, and maybe that's why for me, this time, Terror is Personal. It entered through my backyard, lived in my dads office and stared my family in the face. Its an experience I wouldn’t inflict on my worst enemies. Anyway, this isn’t about me. Its about US. You, me, our neighbor, his twenty year old son, Aunts uncles EVERY SINGLE ONE OF US.
Two weeks after the trauma, after 20,000 people turned up at Gateway to voice their solidarity and demand ‘Change’. We got this - Ashok Chavan CM of Maharasthra, Chaggan Bhjujbal as the deputy CM. (Allow me to remind you AGAIN that it is this man who resigned from the same post a few years ago, due to “Moral grounds” on being involved in the Multi crore Stamp Paper scam).
As our state lay orphaned, leaderless for a week, our ‘Leaders’ spent time debating which political figure would be their best bet to retain power. How about making us feel safe? As these leaders come into their position, Its clear. The change is that THERE IS NO CHANGE. We’ve gone from one crook to another. That’s the only difference.
Its time we took matters into our own hands. Its time we begin to believe that each one of us can make a difference. To take our responsibilities as a ‘citizen’ seriously. Someone needs to protect us, Lets start with being our own eyes and ears.
VOTE - It’s the least we can do. Agreed we need to choose the better of two evils, but do so. Democracy means we get to choose our own devils, lets do it. You also have the right to NOT VOTE. As per the Conduct of Elections Rules, 1969 Act, in Section 49-O that a person can go to the polling booth, confirm his identity, get his finger marked, and convey to the presiding election officer that he/she doesn’t want to vote for anyone. Don’t waste your vote or run the risk of someone stealing your identity and voting for you.
SAY NO TO BRIBES/CORRUPTION - Don’t bribe the Ticket conductor in the train, the security guard on the railway/airport etc.. Don’t use ‘Influence’ to buy a flat, invest unethically in any mode of income. Remember, if you can do it, so can a terrorist. A friend of mine was narrating to me how he had loaded DJ equipment in the back of a taxi, while the taxi guy did'nt even bother asking him what it was. Im so proud of Devang, that he told the taxi driver that it is his duty, responsiblity and right to ask whats being loaded into his vehicle. Lets all remember such lapses in duty lead to lives being lost and cities held at seige. Lets remind people of their responsiblities not only to themselves, but also to you and me and the other citizens. At the same time, lets not forget our own.
REALIZE THAT THE FACE OF TERROR HAS CHANGED - They are no longer menacing hoodlum looking tall dominating men. They are young, driven, unconventional looking men. The ride our trains, visit our hotels, invest in our markets, live among us, study our habits and then strike. If we can get away with corruption, so can they.
BE AN ALERT CITIZEN - Allow yourself ... actually insist on being inconvenienced at malls, airports, multiplexes by checking of your bags and self. In fact, if your not being checked well, or carelessly, then someone else could enter with explosives too. Insist that you are checked carefully. Its is their job, raise an alarm if you feel its not being done.
UNDERSTAND YOUR RIGHTS - As a citizen, understand what the RTI is, why we need it, how we can use it, our basic rights as a citizen. 100 crores were recently sanctioned for safety equipment, speed boats etc. I wonder how much of it will percolate down to actual quality equipment, and how much will earn our Mr Deputy CM another college. Have the urge to understand where your money is going and where its being used. Its our right.
KNOW THAT YOU CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE - Those of you still reading this, and nodding your head as each bullet point unfolds…We can make a difference. And this is the time that we have to. Its now or never.
Its time we took up the reins. No more blame game, bad mouthing. Lets start with ourselves first, and then move on to bigger things. The time is NOW.
I hope somewhere, somehow a part of you wakes up on reading this. A part of you gets angry again, stays angry and realizes how important it is for you and me to join hands and come together. Lets do it. Hold my hand.
Last week as our city and our families sat gripped in the claws of terror, you and me could do NOTHING about it. I watched the news for an agonizing 3 days with little or no news from my father inside the Trident, and maybe that's why for me, this time, Terror is Personal. It entered through my backyard, lived in my dads office and stared my family in the face. Its an experience I wouldn’t inflict on my worst enemies. Anyway, this isn’t about me. Its about US. You, me, our neighbor, his twenty year old son, Aunts uncles EVERY SINGLE ONE OF US.
Two weeks after the trauma, after 20,000 people turned up at Gateway to voice their solidarity and demand ‘Change’. We got this - Ashok Chavan CM of Maharasthra, Chaggan Bhjujbal as the deputy CM. (Allow me to remind you AGAIN that it is this man who resigned from the same post a few years ago, due to “Moral grounds” on being involved in the Multi crore Stamp Paper scam).
As our state lay orphaned, leaderless for a week, our ‘Leaders’ spent time debating which political figure would be their best bet to retain power. How about making us feel safe? As these leaders come into their position, Its clear. The change is that THERE IS NO CHANGE. We’ve gone from one crook to another. That’s the only difference.
Its time we took matters into our own hands. Its time we begin to believe that each one of us can make a difference. To take our responsibilities as a ‘citizen’ seriously. Someone needs to protect us, Lets start with being our own eyes and ears.
VOTE - It’s the least we can do. Agreed we need to choose the better of two evils, but do so. Democracy means we get to choose our own devils, lets do it. You also have the right to NOT VOTE. As per the Conduct of Elections Rules, 1969 Act, in Section 49-O that a person can go to the polling booth, confirm his identity, get his finger marked, and convey to the presiding election officer that he/she doesn’t want to vote for anyone. Don’t waste your vote or run the risk of someone stealing your identity and voting for you.
SAY NO TO BRIBES/CORRUPTION - Don’t bribe the Ticket conductor in the train, the security guard on the railway/airport etc.. Don’t use ‘Influence’ to buy a flat, invest unethically in any mode of income. Remember, if you can do it, so can a terrorist. A friend of mine was narrating to me how he had loaded DJ equipment in the back of a taxi, while the taxi guy did'nt even bother asking him what it was. Im so proud of Devang, that he told the taxi driver that it is his duty, responsiblity and right to ask whats being loaded into his vehicle. Lets all remember such lapses in duty lead to lives being lost and cities held at seige. Lets remind people of their responsiblities not only to themselves, but also to you and me and the other citizens. At the same time, lets not forget our own.
REALIZE THAT THE FACE OF TERROR HAS CHANGED - They are no longer menacing hoodlum looking tall dominating men. They are young, driven, unconventional looking men. The ride our trains, visit our hotels, invest in our markets, live among us, study our habits and then strike. If we can get away with corruption, so can they.
BE AN ALERT CITIZEN - Allow yourself ... actually insist on being inconvenienced at malls, airports, multiplexes by checking of your bags and self. In fact, if your not being checked well, or carelessly, then someone else could enter with explosives too. Insist that you are checked carefully. Its is their job, raise an alarm if you feel its not being done.
UNDERSTAND YOUR RIGHTS - As a citizen, understand what the RTI is, why we need it, how we can use it, our basic rights as a citizen. 100 crores were recently sanctioned for safety equipment, speed boats etc. I wonder how much of it will percolate down to actual quality equipment, and how much will earn our Mr Deputy CM another college. Have the urge to understand where your money is going and where its being used. Its our right.
KNOW THAT YOU CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE - Those of you still reading this, and nodding your head as each bullet point unfolds…We can make a difference. And this is the time that we have to. Its now or never.
Its time we took up the reins. No more blame game, bad mouthing. Lets start with ourselves first, and then move on to bigger things. The time is NOW.
I hope somewhere, somehow a part of you wakes up on reading this. A part of you gets angry again, stays angry and realizes how important it is for you and me to join hands and come together. Lets do it. Hold my hand.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
The Face of Change?
Mr. Ashok Chavan, Chief Minister, Maharashtra. B.Sc., M.B.A. Son of former CM (late) S.B Chavan. T0 Quote (outraged) Mr. Rane 'What Qualification does he (Ashok Chavan) have except be the son of a former CM (S.B. Chavan)'
Mr. Chhagan Bhujbal, Deputy CM, Maharashtra. Trying to find Qualifications, but found some vague mentions of 'Electrical/Mechanical Engineering'. This qualifies for a qualification, and then some.So this is what our 'Peace March' and 'Voice of Mumbai', anger, angst, outrage led to?? The appointment of one politician whom we've never had opportunity to judge. (I couldnt think of a past record - good or bad), and one tainted, corrupt, money laundering politician.
The future looks grim. Mr. Deputy C.M. in all earnestness (did i say earnestness? I meant crooky shady trying to gain trust attitude, for lack for worse words) has ordered Rs. 100 crore of security equipment, sophisticated arms and ammunition, speedboats and what not. How much of this will reach his pockets and earn him another college I wonder?
I am angry. I certainly expected more from this. Was it too much to ask for. I feel helpless. To be juggled from one crook to another. Politics in India has become a joke. What qualifications do these people have? Simply being someones son or daughter seems to be enough. How do we put an end to this? I don't see one in sight. And to think I'm a fairly optimistic person.
How is it that they get away with this? I'm simply at a loss for words, and so infuriated right now that coherent words and reasonable logic is failing me. How can a person, who is a public servant, earn as much as a senior management in a good company be worth over 100 crores, own schools/colleges etc? HOW? Nearly all our politicians own schools/colleges right now.. be it Datta Meghe, Bhujbal, Manohar Joshi, D. Y Patil, all have Flourishing 'Founder and Chairman' tags with money rolling in through he side door. Of the 131 private unaided colleges in Maharashtra, almost 100 are owned by politicians, including Ministers. Other than the few names I mentioned before, ex-Chief Minister Vilasrao Deshmukh also owns an institution in Mumbai, Nationalist Congress Party leader Sharad Pawar owns three, while his son owns one, and Pawar's close associates own another five. Former Prime Minister P.V. Narasimha Rao's son Rajeshwar Rao controls an education society in Nagpur. source
Every morning I wake up with the same feeling - anger. Every morning I leave home and spend my train journey wondering what to do with my frustration, how to keep this spirit alive.
One of my friends Uncle's is a lawyer whom I want to meet and understand the RTI, how to invoke it, what my rights are, how to go about it and other such things. If anyones interested, do let me know maybe I can figure something out. Want to follow up on Our Rs. 100 crore and its whereabout after a few months, as also the other security measures that have been promised.
There's also something else I need to figure out. Todays TOI reported that only the firemen at Taj are getting an increment, because apparently it was much riskier there as opposed to Trident, CST, Nariman house. Im of the opinion that all the guys who spent 3 days dousing fires, and putting their life on the line ought to be rewarded. Want to start a citizen donation/citizen reward type trust where we can all contribute whatever amount we feel like, and give all these guys a reward 'FROM US', 'From Mumbai'....as a thank you and a mark of recognition. Am at a loss of ideas of how to go about it, since would need help from a big media/corporate as wouldnt want anyone questioning where the money is going in.
If anyone has any suggestions, do drop me a line. Lets take this forward, and keep the spirit alive.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Chappar Phad ke?
I believe in God. I do. I believe that there's a larger picture, and that destiny will overtake you, no matter what you do. I believe that he loves each one of us, and that there's always something in store. I also believe that when your time is up, you gotta go.
You could be a careful driver, a safe pedestrian or a paranoid parent. You could have a fireproof, shockproof, burglar proof, natural calamities proof home or office, but you of your family could die eating at your favorite restaurant. In today's day, when terror is in our faces, in my backyard, and was staring my dad in the face, we need to be terror-proof. How?
There are times I do question God. I question my blind belief in the 'Whatever happens happens for the best theory'. Like today. At work, someone was telling me about how her dad escaped death because he randomly missed the bus (which he catches each and every day) one particular day, and that's the day the bus had a horrific accident and nearly everyone died. 'There is a god', she said 'and he saved my father'. That sentence was enough for me to wonder -- the families of everyone else who perished must also have prayed for their safety, for their life.. what about them? I wonder if they stopped believing in god. Or do you say 'This too happened for the best?"
My dad was safe. And when people I meet say, 'Thank God, all went well' I stare dumbfounded - 'Did everything go well?' NO. I have a friend who lost her cousin and his wife who have two small kids (who, are busy making fake phone calls on plastic phones to their parents since they cant understand what death is) at Tiffin, a friends friend who lost her entire family, is battling 5 bullet injuries, let me not even begin on Hemant and Ashok uncle and so many other stories from near and dear ones.
I have a strange superstition that I hear of deaths in 3's. (other than natural calamities/terror attacks/unexplained tragedies). Im waiting to be proven wrong. 3 deaths between Thursday-Friday. 3 today already... (all unrelated to the terror attacks ironically). Its like they say .. 'Dene waala jab deta hai to deta chappar phad ke' (when he gives, he gives in abundance).
Some respite from bad news please. For me and these families and Mumbai. Strength to retain belief, to withstand, move on and rebuild. Peace, of mind and heart - for we need some in the midst of all this tumult. Some alone time at Siddhivinayak without being jostled around for space.
As if grappling with events of the past weeks, and the aftermath which brought no solace, there are other events to deal with. Weddings, Engagements -- which will go on, and must (should) be attended. I'm torn between what I'm feeling inside, and the thought that its someones happy day and he/she cant live in the past. To be honest, I cant see myself going, simply because Id rather not be a wet-blanket, go to a wedding and have a long face. It simply isn't fair. What to do?
You could be a careful driver, a safe pedestrian or a paranoid parent. You could have a fireproof, shockproof, burglar proof, natural calamities proof home or office, but you of your family could die eating at your favorite restaurant. In today's day, when terror is in our faces, in my backyard, and was staring my dad in the face, we need to be terror-proof. How?
There are times I do question God. I question my blind belief in the 'Whatever happens happens for the best theory'. Like today. At work, someone was telling me about how her dad escaped death because he randomly missed the bus (which he catches each and every day) one particular day, and that's the day the bus had a horrific accident and nearly everyone died. 'There is a god', she said 'and he saved my father'. That sentence was enough for me to wonder -- the families of everyone else who perished must also have prayed for their safety, for their life.. what about them? I wonder if they stopped believing in god. Or do you say 'This too happened for the best?"
My dad was safe. And when people I meet say, 'Thank God, all went well' I stare dumbfounded - 'Did everything go well?' NO. I have a friend who lost her cousin and his wife who have two small kids (who, are busy making fake phone calls on plastic phones to their parents since they cant understand what death is) at Tiffin, a friends friend who lost her entire family, is battling 5 bullet injuries, let me not even begin on Hemant and Ashok uncle and so many other stories from near and dear ones.
I have a strange superstition that I hear of deaths in 3's. (other than natural calamities/terror attacks/unexplained tragedies). Im waiting to be proven wrong. 3 deaths between Thursday-Friday. 3 today already... (all unrelated to the terror attacks ironically). Its like they say .. 'Dene waala jab deta hai to deta chappar phad ke' (when he gives, he gives in abundance).
Some respite from bad news please. For me and these families and Mumbai. Strength to retain belief, to withstand, move on and rebuild. Peace, of mind and heart - for we need some in the midst of all this tumult. Some alone time at Siddhivinayak without being jostled around for space.
As if grappling with events of the past weeks, and the aftermath which brought no solace, there are other events to deal with. Weddings, Engagements -- which will go on, and must (should) be attended. I'm torn between what I'm feeling inside, and the thought that its someones happy day and he/she cant live in the past. To be honest, I cant see myself going, simply because Id rather not be a wet-blanket, go to a wedding and have a long face. It simply isn't fair. What to do?
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Some Venting of Overwhelming-ness.
It was that time of year again... Time just flies past at alarming speed. Given the situation and the mood Ive been in, there were obviously not going to be any celebrations. Updated Facebook with a status msg requesting people not to wish me, and work friends were asked not to decorate my desk and make it a grand affair (which birthdays in office generally are).
BUT.
A not so surprising birthday get together at a friends place was thrown despite my insistence otherwise. I started off being very very angry, and having a fight with Aj for having gone ahead and inviting people when I wasnt in a social mood, and not in a place to have fun yet. I was/am still in it. This is 'terrorized' in all its glory. For how I made him feel for having done no wrong except try to cheer me up, Im sorry. I was (not surprisingly) not in control of anger, frustration and quiet desperation that I had been feeling since the last week, and which hadn't yet vented.
Crying on the phone and blogging about it is a great way to feel better, but nothing compares to a long, warm, protective hug. And I got that. In the midst of me YELLING incoherently, unreasonably, I was hugged. And it was just what the doctor asked for. I gave way to what i was actually feeling, and just let go and cried. It strange, that strength I felt in crying.
I had the nicest evening since a very long time. It was a wonderful break from the tumult of the past week. Thanks Raj, Bhv, Chau and Aj for having spent Monday evening blowing up balloons, Bhv again for very good naturedly withstanding the embarrassment of travelling around holding red roses and a cake, Riz and Nuz who came in spite of being a work day, N and Ob who got me a wonderful bouquet and N specially for her incredibly warm hug, Rushi and Devang who came even tho Aj conveniently forgot to ask (ALL) my OWN friends to come. All these people didn't have to spend so much time and energy in trying to cheer me up, but they did, and I am touched.
Wednesday threw me back into the glum, with the niceness of the previous evening having worn off. Home seems different when your dad's not living with you and is parked at work day and night. For it isnt over yet, Its just begun. Investigations, Reviews, Reports, Eyewitness records...
We also needed to go pay our respects at Hemant Uncle's house. Since dad couldn't make it, Mom and I decided that we just couldn't wait anymore... and set off in the evening.
One will be amazed at the simplicity of a person of this stature. Nothing in the house speaks power, glory, position. It took all the courage and determination inside me to stop from bursting out all over again. A 2 foot long picture of him with a single garland around it, adjacent to which on a table lay the following - His Uniform ironed and neatly folded with Medals and Badges in their respective loops, Baton, Uniform cap, Belt....and the bulletproof dark green helmet television screens last showed him wearing. I cant describe in words my feelings at the time...
I barely made it past the gate after we left before I couldn't hold it in any longer... and got into a cab headed home when i noticed something that replaced my hurt with anger.
Just a stones throw from the house , streets are lined with HUGE posters saluting the courage and might of the three Mumbaikars (Karkare, Kamte, Salaskar) who lost their lives from political organisations, Leaders, Hopefuls, Private companies you name it.. Dadar the Plaza area, and the area under Tilak bridge is inundated with posters. When a person like me who was at their house for a matter of less than an hour left, and couldn't deal with seeing their faces all over the place i wonder how traumatic it would be for the family to leave home, maybe even for a short walk, to feel a little better... only to be besieges by posters/banners forming a part of political propaganda which must throw back the tragedy in their face.
Could these nincompoop, thoughtless, butt faced politicians be any less sensitive? Is letting a grieving family mourn in peace too much to ask for? First they try to en cash in on grief by offering charity (err compensation) so that they can use it in their political speeches, proclaiming how benevolent Mr. Modi is. Next they disrupt peace and sanctity of the house (and surrounding areas) BY VISITING.
Really, Mr. Deshmukh, Ms. Pratibha, do you think they're feeling any better now that your royal behinds visited them? [You will be interested to know that an hour before these two toured the hotels/ CST and the grieving houses, all venues were checked by sniffer dogs and traffic halted for security reasons]. More than a hundred people deployed for your safety? One person? What about us Millions of Indians? Whose money it actually is?On the other hand , I hope u come FACE TO FACE with terror, so maybe you'll know what it feels like. Are you too preoccupied since your ass is on fire right now to realize that taking your son and a prominent filmmaker along on an official entourage was a bad idea?
This was the not the first time mission that wives of Karkare, Kamte and Salaskar thought could probably be their last. Only like always, hoping against hope, they prayed in anticipation even as visuals of their husbands donning the gear flashed garishly repeatedly on tv screens, they prayed that they do actually come home. But im guessing your pint sized brains are far less evolved to understand what that mustve felt like. Waiting for a loved one, knowing they are surrounded by gunfighting, grenades and bombs is a feeling that goes beyond what humble English words can offer, and far greater than the money-dealing and scam-planning characters you've honed to near perfection.
Maybe one day our Prime-f*cking minister takes terrorism and understands the sentiments of the citizens so well, that he speaks impromptu, without words being fed into his mouth by a speech-writer, and sounding like the drone of a out-of-work transistor. Maybe one day, his voice will break while choking back emotions as he watched people from his country bleed and die...
Until then, God Bless us.
BUT.
A not so surprising birthday get together at a friends place was thrown despite my insistence otherwise. I started off being very very angry, and having a fight with Aj for having gone ahead and inviting people when I wasnt in a social mood, and not in a place to have fun yet. I was/am still in it. This is 'terrorized' in all its glory. For how I made him feel for having done no wrong except try to cheer me up, Im sorry. I was (not surprisingly) not in control of anger, frustration and quiet desperation that I had been feeling since the last week, and which hadn't yet vented.
Crying on the phone and blogging about it is a great way to feel better, but nothing compares to a long, warm, protective hug. And I got that. In the midst of me YELLING incoherently, unreasonably, I was hugged. And it was just what the doctor asked for. I gave way to what i was actually feeling, and just let go and cried. It strange, that strength I felt in crying.
I had the nicest evening since a very long time. It was a wonderful break from the tumult of the past week. Thanks Raj, Bhv, Chau and Aj for having spent Monday evening blowing up balloons, Bhv again for very good naturedly withstanding the embarrassment of travelling around holding red roses and a cake, Riz and Nuz who came in spite of being a work day, N and Ob who got me a wonderful bouquet and N specially for her incredibly warm hug, Rushi and Devang who came even tho Aj conveniently forgot to ask (ALL) my OWN friends to come. All these people didn't have to spend so much time and energy in trying to cheer me up, but they did, and I am touched.
Wednesday threw me back into the glum, with the niceness of the previous evening having worn off. Home seems different when your dad's not living with you and is parked at work day and night. For it isnt over yet, Its just begun. Investigations, Reviews, Reports, Eyewitness records...
We also needed to go pay our respects at Hemant Uncle's house. Since dad couldn't make it, Mom and I decided that we just couldn't wait anymore... and set off in the evening.
One will be amazed at the simplicity of a person of this stature. Nothing in the house speaks power, glory, position. It took all the courage and determination inside me to stop from bursting out all over again. A 2 foot long picture of him with a single garland around it, adjacent to which on a table lay the following - His Uniform ironed and neatly folded with Medals and Badges in their respective loops, Baton, Uniform cap, Belt....and the bulletproof dark green helmet television screens last showed him wearing. I cant describe in words my feelings at the time...
I barely made it past the gate after we left before I couldn't hold it in any longer... and got into a cab headed home when i noticed something that replaced my hurt with anger.
Just a stones throw from the house , streets are lined with HUGE posters saluting the courage and might of the three Mumbaikars (Karkare, Kamte, Salaskar) who lost their lives from political organisations, Leaders, Hopefuls, Private companies you name it.. Dadar the Plaza area, and the area under Tilak bridge is inundated with posters. When a person like me who was at their house for a matter of less than an hour left, and couldn't deal with seeing their faces all over the place i wonder how traumatic it would be for the family to leave home, maybe even for a short walk, to feel a little better... only to be besieges by posters/banners forming a part of political propaganda which must throw back the tragedy in their face.
Could these nincompoop, thoughtless, butt faced politicians be any less sensitive? Is letting a grieving family mourn in peace too much to ask for? First they try to en cash in on grief by offering charity (err compensation) so that they can use it in their political speeches, proclaiming how benevolent Mr. Modi is. Next they disrupt peace and sanctity of the house (and surrounding areas) BY VISITING.
Really, Mr. Deshmukh, Ms. Pratibha, do you think they're feeling any better now that your royal behinds visited them? [You will be interested to know that an hour before these two toured the hotels/ CST and the grieving houses, all venues were checked by sniffer dogs and traffic halted for security reasons]. More than a hundred people deployed for your safety? One person? What about us Millions of Indians? Whose money it actually is?On the other hand , I hope u come FACE TO FACE with terror, so maybe you'll know what it feels like. Are you too preoccupied since your ass is on fire right now to realize that taking your son and a prominent filmmaker along on an official entourage was a bad idea?
This was the not the first time mission that wives of Karkare, Kamte and Salaskar thought could probably be their last. Only like always, hoping against hope, they prayed in anticipation even as visuals of their husbands donning the gear flashed garishly repeatedly on tv screens, they prayed that they do actually come home. But im guessing your pint sized brains are far less evolved to understand what that mustve felt like. Waiting for a loved one, knowing they are surrounded by gunfighting, grenades and bombs is a feeling that goes beyond what humble English words can offer, and far greater than the money-dealing and scam-planning characters you've honed to near perfection.
Maybe one day our Prime-f*cking minister takes terrorism and understands the sentiments of the citizens so well, that he speaks impromptu, without words being fed into his mouth by a speech-writer, and sounding like the drone of a out-of-work transistor. Maybe one day, his voice will break while choking back emotions as he watched people from his country bleed and die...
Until then, God Bless us.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
(No) Thanks to the Media..
Those three days when Terror rocked my city, my home, turned my life as well as almost everyone in Mumbai's life upside down, were undoubtedly the three longest, most traumatic and tense days of my life. I had already started planning for life after, assuming my dad wont be walking in home. Im ashamed to admit it (now) that I had a slimmer of hope, which faded every passing second, every one explosive, every one gun shot we heard and watched on television.
The Media didn't help one bit. I agree it was our only source of information (other than looking out the window and making sure that the buildings are still standing (as opposed to being blown away by bombs, which is what i was expecting all along). If there was anything that could make the situation worse, it was the news.
Its a given that the television was not switched off, save for about 45 mins on the first night when we (tried to get some) sleep, and 3 hours the next night when Mom was coaxed into sleeping by B aunty, and I passed out of exhaustion on the sofa. Coming back to the point... There were SO MANY TIMES, so many times, that it would say 'BREAKING NEWS - FRESH EXPLOSIONS INSIDE TRIDENT' for sometimes 2-3 hours at a stretch... So we wernt sure if they were newER blasts from the breaking news we saw 3 hours ago, or simply the same feed that was relaying to us by some nincompoops who don't understand the gravity of their jobs and that there were families like ours glued to the television...
All news channels as we have seen run 3 -4 live feeds which keep scrolling horizontally across the screen even while the newsreader is on air. At one particular instance, one line read ' Hostage situation ends at Trident' while the line DIRECTLY below that read 'Hostages feared to be killed inside Trident'. Seriously people? What exactly is the qualification of these people who input news into teleprompters/live feeds? Is common sense not one of them? Do they need a manual that says 'Do not put contradicting news on lines directly above/below one another' Cause ill make one for them, i promise.
The kind of mayhem, panic, heart stopping moments that things like this induce... is something I wont be able to describe with the most verbose of descriptions. All I know is at some point I switched off, (am ashamed to admit) gave up, sat teary eyed in front of the screens hoping and praying for this to be over.
Why cant they run the live feeds as the "updated time:followed by news item"
e.g. ' 11.38 p.m. fresh blasts in Nariman House' '10.56 a.m. Hostage situation still critical'.
Meanwhile, Barkha Dutt launches into Panel Discussions. which at that moment were unnecessary.
Of the many moments frozen in my memory - On Thursday night, the second night of this carnage, at around 3 in the morning while I was secretly watching Tv while my mom and B aunty slept in her room, for a long time, there was no news of the Trident.Most channels were running the same 'Hostages believed to be killed'. 'Fire breaks out' (while i could see that it was doused) type stories, I started Panicking and wondering why there isn't ANYTHING on the news. My dad hadn't been taking calls or responding to sms's, but it was on. I know that since a lot of people tried calling him too, and told me that it was ringing but he wasn't answering it. It was of some solace to know even this.
That night at 3-3.30 in the morning, with my heartbeat reduced to near nothing, I sent him an sms saying 'Daddy why isn't there anything on the news, is everything ok'. Of course, i DIDN'T expect a reply. But still. for whatever reason, I didn't get a delivery report for a Long time after. between 45 and 50 mins to be exact. those 45 mins felt like an entire day.
I was feverishly keylocking/unlocking keylocking/unlocking keylocking/unlocking algorithmically with thoughts I cant even pen down here running through my mind. Considering it was so late, and all my close friends and relatives were going through this as much as i was, I knew I didn't want to wake up people who were getting some sleep... Tried switching channels to watch something mindless in the hope that maybe the next time I switch back, There will be some good news.
At some point, with the television on, I must've drifted off into sleep. when something buzzed. It was a delivery report. I breathed a sigh of relief, turned off the television and convinced myself to sleep. At that time, even a delivery report was enough to go on...
The Media didn't help one bit. I agree it was our only source of information (other than looking out the window and making sure that the buildings are still standing (as opposed to being blown away by bombs, which is what i was expecting all along). If there was anything that could make the situation worse, it was the news.
Its a given that the television was not switched off, save for about 45 mins on the first night when we (tried to get some) sleep, and 3 hours the next night when Mom was coaxed into sleeping by B aunty, and I passed out of exhaustion on the sofa. Coming back to the point... There were SO MANY TIMES, so many times, that it would say 'BREAKING NEWS - FRESH EXPLOSIONS INSIDE TRIDENT' for sometimes 2-3 hours at a stretch... So we wernt sure if they were newER blasts from the breaking news we saw 3 hours ago, or simply the same feed that was relaying to us by some nincompoops who don't understand the gravity of their jobs and that there were families like ours glued to the television...
All news channels as we have seen run 3 -4 live feeds which keep scrolling horizontally across the screen even while the newsreader is on air. At one particular instance, one line read ' Hostage situation ends at Trident' while the line DIRECTLY below that read 'Hostages feared to be killed inside Trident'. Seriously people? What exactly is the qualification of these people who input news into teleprompters/live feeds? Is common sense not one of them? Do they need a manual that says 'Do not put contradicting news on lines directly above/below one another' Cause ill make one for them, i promise.
The kind of mayhem, panic, heart stopping moments that things like this induce... is something I wont be able to describe with the most verbose of descriptions. All I know is at some point I switched off, (am ashamed to admit) gave up, sat teary eyed in front of the screens hoping and praying for this to be over.
Why cant they run the live feeds as the "updated time:followed by news item"
e.g. ' 11.38 p.m. fresh blasts in Nariman House' '10.56 a.m. Hostage situation still critical'.
Meanwhile, Barkha Dutt launches into Panel Discussions. which at that moment were unnecessary.
Of the many moments frozen in my memory - On Thursday night, the second night of this carnage, at around 3 in the morning while I was secretly watching Tv while my mom and B aunty slept in her room, for a long time, there was no news of the Trident.Most channels were running the same 'Hostages believed to be killed'. 'Fire breaks out' (while i could see that it was doused) type stories, I started Panicking and wondering why there isn't ANYTHING on the news. My dad hadn't been taking calls or responding to sms's, but it was on. I know that since a lot of people tried calling him too, and told me that it was ringing but he wasn't answering it. It was of some solace to know even this.
That night at 3-3.30 in the morning, with my heartbeat reduced to near nothing, I sent him an sms saying 'Daddy why isn't there anything on the news, is everything ok'. Of course, i DIDN'T expect a reply. But still. for whatever reason, I didn't get a delivery report for a Long time after. between 45 and 50 mins to be exact. those 45 mins felt like an entire day.
I was feverishly keylocking/unlocking keylocking/unlocking keylocking/unlocking algorithmically with thoughts I cant even pen down here running through my mind. Considering it was so late, and all my close friends and relatives were going through this as much as i was, I knew I didn't want to wake up people who were getting some sleep... Tried switching channels to watch something mindless in the hope that maybe the next time I switch back, There will be some good news.
At some point, with the television on, I must've drifted off into sleep. when something buzzed. It was a delivery report. I breathed a sigh of relief, turned off the television and convinced myself to sleep. At that time, even a delivery report was enough to go on...
Monday, December 1, 2008
A Draft post im posting a month later, since I didnt know I had it saved...
Until we move past the bureaucracy and dirty politics that encompasses our governing, judicial and defence systems, we will remain vulnerable for the rest of the world.
Mumbai has always been the golden goose, with the most number of people per sq foot area, transport systems that are bursting to the seams, hotels and social places which are always packed -- hence scope for maximum destruction. We are also part of a country that witnesses our trauma, speaks of it sympathetically for a few days and goes to work the next day. We are the ones that move on the soonest, display the most courage… and remain silent in anticipation of the next attacks.. cause we all know this is not the end.
Even today, I shudder to think that the events of the past few days could be a mere pause in the larger plan that terrorists have drawn up. Are we even safeguarded against something happening today?
I was at the Marine drive vigil yesterday, overwhelmed by the turnout and emotions. A poster someone held up said ‘Enough is enough’. And I thought to myself.. we had blasts first in 1993. did we need to wait 15 years, for over 441 people to die (this year alone) to realize that enough is enough? If that wasn’t enough, we’ve had constant reminders, in our city and others time and again. More political bickering, more bureaucratic mayhem. No one to take responsibility, no one to emerge as the voice of strength.
Its amusing, how when incidents like this occur, people stand up and say ‘ govt was informed about coastal security’ etc. Im of the opinion that our security should be airtight and impenetratable 365 days a year. Why do we need constant reminders ghastly massacres to realize that protection and safety comes first, that loss of life is irreplaceable, and invaluable… and that maintaing constant and prevention of infiltrators from neighboring (hostile) countries is of prime importance. WHY?
What we need is police forces, intelligence agencies and a federal system which is buffered from the Government. Agencies which operate in synchronization with each other, and who report to no one, except themselves. These politicians and their pressure (contacts, bribes) just prevent the proper functioning of these integral agencies. Hemant Uncle once at a dinner conversation mentioned to daddy how he was enjoying his stint at RAW since he was for the first time, slightly away from the hypocrisy and games that politicians play.
Today, there is conflict between the IB and the ATS over who will take the investigation forward. The terrorist is in custody of the IB while the ATS, has this role listed in its duties. Who will settle the matter? Both agencies will use various reasons as leeway why they should be the ones to take this forward. Any breakthrough, of course will bring a lot of glory, and who doesn’t want a piece of that pie?
I think I could go on. Vilasrao Deshmukh should be thrown out with sticks and stones, and not allowed to resign gracefully. This (please insert suitable abuse) has the audacity to take a filmmaker and his son to tour the hotels as part of his entourage. Is he crazy? Or unaware? Did he expect no criticism for this? Or was he just so sure that he could get away with this too, like everything else these (please insert suitable abuse) get away with?
Until we move past the bureaucracy and dirty politics that encompasses our governing, judicial and defence systems, we will remain vulnerable for the rest of the world.
Mumbai has always been the golden goose, with the most number of people per sq foot area, transport systems that are bursting to the seams, hotels and social places which are always packed -- hence scope for maximum destruction. We are also part of a country that witnesses our trauma, speaks of it sympathetically for a few days and goes to work the next day. We are the ones that move on the soonest, display the most courage… and remain silent in anticipation of the next attacks.. cause we all know this is not the end.
Even today, I shudder to think that the events of the past few days could be a mere pause in the larger plan that terrorists have drawn up. Are we even safeguarded against something happening today?
I was at the Marine drive vigil yesterday, overwhelmed by the turnout and emotions. A poster someone held up said ‘Enough is enough’. And I thought to myself.. we had blasts first in 1993. did we need to wait 15 years, for over 441 people to die (this year alone) to realize that enough is enough? If that wasn’t enough, we’ve had constant reminders, in our city and others time and again. More political bickering, more bureaucratic mayhem. No one to take responsibility, no one to emerge as the voice of strength.
Its amusing, how when incidents like this occur, people stand up and say ‘ govt was informed about coastal security’ etc. Im of the opinion that our security should be airtight and impenetratable 365 days a year. Why do we need constant reminders ghastly massacres to realize that protection and safety comes first, that loss of life is irreplaceable, and invaluable… and that maintaing constant and prevention of infiltrators from neighboring (hostile) countries is of prime importance. WHY?
What we need is police forces, intelligence agencies and a federal system which is buffered from the Government. Agencies which operate in synchronization with each other, and who report to no one, except themselves. These politicians and their pressure (contacts, bribes) just prevent the proper functioning of these integral agencies. Hemant Uncle once at a dinner conversation mentioned to daddy how he was enjoying his stint at RAW since he was for the first time, slightly away from the hypocrisy and games that politicians play.
Today, there is conflict between the IB and the ATS over who will take the investigation forward. The terrorist is in custody of the IB while the ATS, has this role listed in its duties. Who will settle the matter? Both agencies will use various reasons as leeway why they should be the ones to take this forward. Any breakthrough, of course will bring a lot of glory, and who doesn’t want a piece of that pie?
I think I could go on. Vilasrao Deshmukh should be thrown out with sticks and stones, and not allowed to resign gracefully. This (please insert suitable abuse) has the audacity to take a filmmaker and his son to tour the hotels as part of his entourage. Is he crazy? Or unaware? Did he expect no criticism for this? Or was he just so sure that he could get away with this too, like everything else these (please insert suitable abuse) get away with?
Sunday, November 30, 2008
*update - deletion of some points which were sensitive.
Im battling so many emotions right now. Im not sure how to vent my anger, frustration and im not even sure what im feelin right now.
I went for the candle light vigil at Marine Drive a while back, lit a candle, said the National Anthem.... the experience was overwhelming, the turnout tremendous. I couldnt hold back tears as we sang the National Anthem as images of Hemant Uncle, Akash doing the final rites came into my eyes. The mood of everyone was clear - angry, frustrated and fed up. People help up placcards saying 'We dont care who resigns, we dont care whose there, we want safety', others saying ' Can you hear us Mr. C.M. (who by the way went on a tour of both hotels with Ram Gopal Verma and his son Riteish Deshmukh as part of his offical entourage.) This is our leader, the chief minister of our state abusing his power. He ought to do us a favour and kill himself.
I come home to my dad whom Ive seem for brief moments since friday...
Im angry, and upset. I want to go to bed knowing hes done his duty and that now he deserves more than 2 hours of sleep a night, and spend some time with his family. Selfsh that sounds, but i dont care. He hasnt had time to deal with the trauma hes been through too.
One more thing thats really pissed me off. The image of Akash in todays paper doing the last rites of Hemant Uncle shows him standing next to some random girl who theyve labelled as 'Karkares son and Daughter mourning'. Cant they get their facts right? I mean, how irresponsibel can you be? If i were to labe a client brand wrong in a presentation, Id be sacked. and this was on the front page of the paper!
When i went to drop my dad off, I saw the whole inside, which has been boarded off so no photographers/media can peek inside like the Taj. What i saw was eerie slience, in a hustling bustling place Ive been so many times before, with bullet holes near the lift, glass of the entire lobby, of both the oberoi and the trident shattered... the blood and bodies have been cleared completely. I walked into the charred remains of Kandahar, the indian restaurant which was almost my favoritre (second to Frangipani). It was heart breaking..I didnt take any pictures out f respect for my dad who doesnt want any ghaslty images leaked to the press, and also since we are all tryign to get the past few days out of the forefront of our memories, let alone takign snaos that will put them right back. My mom and I stared speechless at a coat slung over a chair casually, half burned, presumably that of a guest dining there. All hostages were taken from Kandahar, so im guessing he would be one of them. If not, i hope hes one of the (few survivors), since 2 grenades burst in this hotel too.
It was an eerie experice, I couldnt hold back as i stepped into Tiffin for a minute.. the restaurant which suffered the most casualties. Knowing each person seated in tat restaurant is now dead was unnerving, I pray for the souls of everyone who was there...
Im angry, upset, frustrated (ive said this before havent i?) and hurt. Just running out of ways to deal with it.
Im battling so many emotions right now. Im not sure how to vent my anger, frustration and im not even sure what im feelin right now.
I went for the candle light vigil at Marine Drive a while back, lit a candle, said the National Anthem.... the experience was overwhelming, the turnout tremendous. I couldnt hold back tears as we sang the National Anthem as images of Hemant Uncle, Akash doing the final rites came into my eyes. The mood of everyone was clear - angry, frustrated and fed up. People help up placcards saying 'We dont care who resigns, we dont care whose there, we want safety', others saying ' Can you hear us Mr. C.M. (who by the way went on a tour of both hotels with Ram Gopal Verma and his son Riteish Deshmukh as part of his offical entourage.) This is our leader, the chief minister of our state abusing his power. He ought to do us a favour and kill himself.
I come home to my dad whom Ive seem for brief moments since friday...
Im angry, and upset. I want to go to bed knowing hes done his duty and that now he deserves more than 2 hours of sleep a night, and spend some time with his family. Selfsh that sounds, but i dont care. He hasnt had time to deal with the trauma hes been through too.
One more thing thats really pissed me off. The image of Akash in todays paper doing the last rites of Hemant Uncle shows him standing next to some random girl who theyve labelled as 'Karkares son and Daughter mourning'. Cant they get their facts right? I mean, how irresponsibel can you be? If i were to labe a client brand wrong in a presentation, Id be sacked. and this was on the front page of the paper!
When i went to drop my dad off, I saw the whole inside, which has been boarded off so no photographers/media can peek inside like the Taj. What i saw was eerie slience, in a hustling bustling place Ive been so many times before, with bullet holes near the lift, glass of the entire lobby, of both the oberoi and the trident shattered... the blood and bodies have been cleared completely. I walked into the charred remains of Kandahar, the indian restaurant which was almost my favoritre (second to Frangipani). It was heart breaking..I didnt take any pictures out f respect for my dad who doesnt want any ghaslty images leaked to the press, and also since we are all tryign to get the past few days out of the forefront of our memories, let alone takign snaos that will put them right back. My mom and I stared speechless at a coat slung over a chair casually, half burned, presumably that of a guest dining there. All hostages were taken from Kandahar, so im guessing he would be one of them. If not, i hope hes one of the (few survivors), since 2 grenades burst in this hotel too.
It was an eerie experice, I couldnt hold back as i stepped into Tiffin for a minute.. the restaurant which suffered the most casualties. Knowing each person seated in tat restaurant is now dead was unnerving, I pray for the souls of everyone who was there...
Im angry, upset, frustrated (ive said this before havent i?) and hurt. Just running out of ways to deal with it.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
This is my story..
*updated.
It was a long excruciating wait. For my dad to walk in home. One I wasn't even sure would end well.But it did, and as we deal with the trauma of the past few days, I just wanted to offer my condolences and prayers to everyone whose lost someone... It is indeed a tragedy, and one that will take a LONG time to heal.
My dad got called into work on Wednesday, 26th at 9.30 just as the first grenade burst and the first few rounds were fired in the Oberoi. I was out with a friend in a taxi at Colaba, just minutes away from Leopold, wondering why there was so much traffic when I got a call from a much distressed mom informing me that Daddy got called in to work since there was a Bomb blast at Oberoi '(Which is what he was told at the time). She was afraid he wouldn't even make the car ride to the hotel, given the complete panic and utter shock he left. My friend and I took a right from the Regal circle, towards my house... a coupla mins late and we would've been in the thick of things at Colaba Causeway.
My first reaction when I turned on the news was 'Mom, its not a bomb blast, it was firing OUTSIDE the Oberoi'. Short lived relief turned into quickening heartbeats and utter dismay when I heard an explosion and rushed to my window, which has a clear view of the Oberoi. As I saw smoke billowing out of the hotel, I knew something major had happened. Course, this took abut 20 mins to appear on tv, since deferred live and all that. Until then, I was speechless, numb and at a loss for words, when the phone calls started pouring in. First my cellphone from friends who know i live this side of town, then relatives on the landline and my moms cellphone...suddenly it was as though all hell broke loose. I was answering each call with templated responses... 'Ya, im fine. Moms home too. No, Dads inside the hotel. Yes, Inside. No i dont know. Yes it is bad. can we speak later? bye.'
As we watched the news turn from random firing outside the Oberoi, to terrorists actually INSIDE,with a hostage situation, I slowly died, went to hell and stayed there for 3 days. My mom and I sat before the television holding hands, as each passing moment got worse. My heart stopped beating fast, and instead slowed to an unnerving pace as the magnitude of everything happening sunk in. Knowing my dad and knowing his military background, i knew he wouldn't be sitting in the background of things. I was fearing for the worst. Thoughts like him throwing himself into the fray (which he did) were flashing before me every few seconds and false reassurances from family and friends that everything will be ok fell on deaf ears. Everything was already not ok. People were already dead, The Taj was burning and My dad was still in there.
From the time he left at 9.30 at night till the next day at noon, we had no news from him. Needless to say we were glued to the tv, watching nervously through the night for this operation to end. People called and msgd me as people were being evacuated asking me if my dad was one of them... to whom i said the same thing - that he will be the last to leave. if at all. Those who know him, didnt ask, cos they knew this about him. They knew he would prefer dying in the line of duty, putting himself in harms way, than coming out and watching as his men and his hotel burned.
Midway through the night, I saw a few visuals of a very close family friend - Hemant Uncle,.. u would know him as Hemant Karkare the ATS chief donning a (so called) bulletproof jacket and helmet and entering the scene. This is when I couldn't take it anymore, I left my moms room and walked into my own, saying prayers at the window and refused to leave. A Friend who stayed over since he was stranded this side of town came into my room about a half hr later and told me he is no more. Neither is Ashok Uncle. At this point, I started wheezing, and all the being strong theory jumped out the window. The next one hour was just a whirlwind of trying to get my breath back, and thinking of Jui, who I spoke with last week, who got married last year...Akash, Sayli and Kavita Aunty. This was a great great setback, and a tragedy that happened to our family even if my dad walked in home safe.
From 5.30 in the morning that day, sms's started pouring in asking if we had any news from dad. Considering we had none, it was a tremendous task speaking to concerned relatives and friends and saying the same thing over and over and over and over again. 'We have no news'. As more reports of sporadic fire, explosions kept streaming in through the hours, my confidence was wearing thin. When, one of my phones which is a direct line from the Oberoi rang in the Intercom fashion.. which meant either my dad was calling or there was bad news... Those few seconds till my mom said 'are u ok?' which indicated it was my dad were indeed the longest few of my life.
That phone call lasted 10 seconds and this was it 'im ok, they have a lot of ammunition, is really bad, they've killed 4 of my men, 3 employees and 5 guests. They're heavily armed.' and the line was cut. He was whispering, so we didn't even know where he was.
That phone call didnt bring much relief... as we didn't know much, and whatever he did tell us was bad news.
The next phone call happened an agonizing 5 hours later, and was on the same lines. Still whispering - 'Im ok, situation bad, they're heavily armed, they both are holed up in a room and throwing hand grenades intermittently' . We were confused. 2 terrosists? Holed up in the room? Where were the hostages? Since the news was reporting 6-10 terrorists, and a hostage situation.
Its when he got back yest for a few hrs that we realized there were only 2, and that they killed their hostages on the first day itself.
He got back for a few hours on friday night around midnight, more than 60 hours since the last time he slept, and 48 hours since he was at Oberoi. He got to know of his friends death only a day later, from an army official who entered the second day. Didnt have time to deal with it then, as there were dead bodies strewn about his own hotel, and terrorists who still needed to be flushed out.
My little brother is at Military school at Nashik and got to know a few hours after this happened, on wednesday and called us in great Panic. 'Daddy is obviously inside', said he, 'but is he ok?' to which we naturally lied and said we had spoken with him and he's completely fine, in fcat hes not even inside the hotel. Think he knows his dad and knew he wouldnt be outside, judging by the 2 hourly phone calls he made to us, asking if we've heard from him.
It was the phone call on friday, 28th at 7 in the morning that first brought us some relief. Daddy said one terrorist was gunned down, he saw the body and they were verifying if the other was dead too. They just needed to verify it. Dont mention it to anyone just yet, he warned us.
it broke on the news 4 hours later, that both were dead, and they began evacuating guests when we knew, that it HAD in fact ended at the Oberoi. My greatest secret fear in the past two days was the thought that they could be plotting to blow up the place and the buildings would crumble before my eyes, and no one would get out alive.
I have so much to say, this was just my story. I heard my dads and thats another post.
My boss at work out of complete good intention mentioned to me tht people were being evacuated, so why doesn't he come out. Family does come first sometimes u know, maybe hell come he said. I smiled and simply told him, I know my dad. He isnt choosing his job over his family, this is who he is, It is an intrinsic quality, devotion to duty and dedication to the lives of others, something you wont understand. If i were to ever send my dad a cowardly sms like that, rest assured he would never have spoken to me for a long long time.
God willing, this has ended, though in some ways it has just begun.
I just wanted to thank my friends and family, people who lived through it with me. Prach - I love you so much, Vin and Sam who breathed easy only when i sms'd them saying he was home, Aj for being my telephone operator and handling calls from everyone at work and kept quiet when i cried and didnt ask me to be strong, Kos who appeared out of nowhere and stood by me, Niki who msgd me everytime a frnd of hers inside Oberoi so much as saw my dad, Ash who was worried as helll too, Nisarg, Shilpa who lost her cousin and his wife but kept calling me anyway, Sita who prayed non stop and now wants to go to Siddhivinayak with me, Nu and Riz who said 'Inshaallah everything will be ok', Kamal who put things behind her and called and smsd me, Andy Uncle who kept trying to use contacts to find out if hes ok, Devang and Pavi who kept checking up on me, Devang (the other one) who got stranded at my house and held my hand for hours as i squeezed the air out of it....I think I can go on.And I will. I promise to put up the names of each and every person who has touched me in such an unforgettable way, since there are so many. I am overwhelmed by the love and prayers we received, and I dont think Ill ever have the words to thank you all..
I dont know how, but i forgot to Mention B aunty, who came over in the evening, despite our vehement pleas not to leave her house, armed with macaroni and cheese, made us eat dinner, switch of the tv for a while, watch an hour of 'The holiday' and stayed with us till we heard form him the next day. I dont know what we wouldve done without you, your our angel.
It was a long excruciating wait. For my dad to walk in home. One I wasn't even sure would end well.But it did, and as we deal with the trauma of the past few days, I just wanted to offer my condolences and prayers to everyone whose lost someone... It is indeed a tragedy, and one that will take a LONG time to heal.
My dad got called into work on Wednesday, 26th at 9.30 just as the first grenade burst and the first few rounds were fired in the Oberoi. I was out with a friend in a taxi at Colaba, just minutes away from Leopold, wondering why there was so much traffic when I got a call from a much distressed mom informing me that Daddy got called in to work since there was a Bomb blast at Oberoi '(Which is what he was told at the time). She was afraid he wouldn't even make the car ride to the hotel, given the complete panic and utter shock he left. My friend and I took a right from the Regal circle, towards my house... a coupla mins late and we would've been in the thick of things at Colaba Causeway.
My first reaction when I turned on the news was 'Mom, its not a bomb blast, it was firing OUTSIDE the Oberoi'. Short lived relief turned into quickening heartbeats and utter dismay when I heard an explosion and rushed to my window, which has a clear view of the Oberoi. As I saw smoke billowing out of the hotel, I knew something major had happened. Course, this took abut 20 mins to appear on tv, since deferred live and all that. Until then, I was speechless, numb and at a loss for words, when the phone calls started pouring in. First my cellphone from friends who know i live this side of town, then relatives on the landline and my moms cellphone...suddenly it was as though all hell broke loose. I was answering each call with templated responses... 'Ya, im fine. Moms home too. No, Dads inside the hotel. Yes, Inside. No i dont know. Yes it is bad. can we speak later? bye.'
As we watched the news turn from random firing outside the Oberoi, to terrorists actually INSIDE,with a hostage situation, I slowly died, went to hell and stayed there for 3 days. My mom and I sat before the television holding hands, as each passing moment got worse. My heart stopped beating fast, and instead slowed to an unnerving pace as the magnitude of everything happening sunk in. Knowing my dad and knowing his military background, i knew he wouldn't be sitting in the background of things. I was fearing for the worst. Thoughts like him throwing himself into the fray (which he did) were flashing before me every few seconds and false reassurances from family and friends that everything will be ok fell on deaf ears. Everything was already not ok. People were already dead, The Taj was burning and My dad was still in there.
From the time he left at 9.30 at night till the next day at noon, we had no news from him. Needless to say we were glued to the tv, watching nervously through the night for this operation to end. People called and msgd me as people were being evacuated asking me if my dad was one of them... to whom i said the same thing - that he will be the last to leave. if at all. Those who know him, didnt ask, cos they knew this about him. They knew he would prefer dying in the line of duty, putting himself in harms way, than coming out and watching as his men and his hotel burned.
Midway through the night, I saw a few visuals of a very close family friend - Hemant Uncle,.. u would know him as Hemant Karkare the ATS chief donning a (so called) bulletproof jacket and helmet and entering the scene. This is when I couldn't take it anymore, I left my moms room and walked into my own, saying prayers at the window and refused to leave. A Friend who stayed over since he was stranded this side of town came into my room about a half hr later and told me he is no more. Neither is Ashok Uncle. At this point, I started wheezing, and all the being strong theory jumped out the window. The next one hour was just a whirlwind of trying to get my breath back, and thinking of Jui, who I spoke with last week, who got married last year...Akash, Sayli and Kavita Aunty. This was a great great setback, and a tragedy that happened to our family even if my dad walked in home safe.
From 5.30 in the morning that day, sms's started pouring in asking if we had any news from dad. Considering we had none, it was a tremendous task speaking to concerned relatives and friends and saying the same thing over and over and over and over again. 'We have no news'. As more reports of sporadic fire, explosions kept streaming in through the hours, my confidence was wearing thin. When, one of my phones which is a direct line from the Oberoi rang in the Intercom fashion.. which meant either my dad was calling or there was bad news... Those few seconds till my mom said 'are u ok?' which indicated it was my dad were indeed the longest few of my life.
That phone call lasted 10 seconds and this was it 'im ok, they have a lot of ammunition, is really bad, they've killed 4 of my men, 3 employees and 5 guests. They're heavily armed.' and the line was cut. He was whispering, so we didn't even know where he was.
That phone call didnt bring much relief... as we didn't know much, and whatever he did tell us was bad news.
The next phone call happened an agonizing 5 hours later, and was on the same lines. Still whispering - 'Im ok, situation bad, they're heavily armed, they both are holed up in a room and throwing hand grenades intermittently' . We were confused. 2 terrosists? Holed up in the room? Where were the hostages? Since the news was reporting 6-10 terrorists, and a hostage situation.
Its when he got back yest for a few hrs that we realized there were only 2, and that they killed their hostages on the first day itself.
He got back for a few hours on friday night around midnight, more than 60 hours since the last time he slept, and 48 hours since he was at Oberoi. He got to know of his friends death only a day later, from an army official who entered the second day. Didnt have time to deal with it then, as there were dead bodies strewn about his own hotel, and terrorists who still needed to be flushed out.
My little brother is at Military school at Nashik and got to know a few hours after this happened, on wednesday and called us in great Panic. 'Daddy is obviously inside', said he, 'but is he ok?' to which we naturally lied and said we had spoken with him and he's completely fine, in fcat hes not even inside the hotel. Think he knows his dad and knew he wouldnt be outside, judging by the 2 hourly phone calls he made to us, asking if we've heard from him.
It was the phone call on friday, 28th at 7 in the morning that first brought us some relief. Daddy said one terrorist was gunned down, he saw the body and they were verifying if the other was dead too. They just needed to verify it. Dont mention it to anyone just yet, he warned us.
it broke on the news 4 hours later, that both were dead, and they began evacuating guests when we knew, that it HAD in fact ended at the Oberoi. My greatest secret fear in the past two days was the thought that they could be plotting to blow up the place and the buildings would crumble before my eyes, and no one would get out alive.
I have so much to say, this was just my story. I heard my dads and thats another post.
My boss at work out of complete good intention mentioned to me tht people were being evacuated, so why doesn't he come out. Family does come first sometimes u know, maybe hell come he said. I smiled and simply told him, I know my dad. He isnt choosing his job over his family, this is who he is, It is an intrinsic quality, devotion to duty and dedication to the lives of others, something you wont understand. If i were to ever send my dad a cowardly sms like that, rest assured he would never have spoken to me for a long long time.
God willing, this has ended, though in some ways it has just begun.
I just wanted to thank my friends and family, people who lived through it with me. Prach - I love you so much, Vin and Sam who breathed easy only when i sms'd them saying he was home, Aj for being my telephone operator and handling calls from everyone at work and kept quiet when i cried and didnt ask me to be strong, Kos who appeared out of nowhere and stood by me, Niki who msgd me everytime a frnd of hers inside Oberoi so much as saw my dad, Ash who was worried as helll too, Nisarg, Shilpa who lost her cousin and his wife but kept calling me anyway, Sita who prayed non stop and now wants to go to Siddhivinayak with me, Nu and Riz who said 'Inshaallah everything will be ok', Kamal who put things behind her and called and smsd me, Andy Uncle who kept trying to use contacts to find out if hes ok, Devang and Pavi who kept checking up on me, Devang (the other one) who got stranded at my house and held my hand for hours as i squeezed the air out of it....I think I can go on.And I will. I promise to put up the names of each and every person who has touched me in such an unforgettable way, since there are so many. I am overwhelmed by the love and prayers we received, and I dont think Ill ever have the words to thank you all..
I dont know how, but i forgot to Mention B aunty, who came over in the evening, despite our vehement pleas not to leave her house, armed with macaroni and cheese, made us eat dinner, switch of the tv for a while, watch an hour of 'The holiday' and stayed with us till we heard form him the next day. I dont know what we wouldve done without you, your our angel.
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