I take no pride in admitting this but the first time I went to town since November 26th, my stomach crunched to its deepest depths and I started shivering involuntarily, as I passed Colaba Causeway. It was the eeriest, quietest environment and I wanted it to be anything but. Bombay didn’t deserve this.
As I read through reams and reams of reports regarding the Bombay terror attacks, and the loud backlash against the media coverage of the event (with specific reference to a certain Ms Dutt who seems to be ruling social media networks at the moment for all the wrong reasons), I made a silent resolve to stay away from all news channels for the next three days, believing it would help in putting away the sense of doom that I was feeling. Ten minutes into that resolve, I get a forwarded email in my inbox from a friend that is a first person account of a Brit survivor’s tale from the Taj. It is a harrowing account of his survival on that fateful night. I am not able to stop thinking about it, for a few hours after I finish reading the mail.
My heart goes out to the families of those killed at CST, at the Cama hospital, at the Taj, at the Oberoi/Trident, at Nariman House and especially for the NSG commandos and cops killed during the operation, words cannot articulate the empathy that the people of Bombay as well as those from around the country are feeling right now with them. I think I speak for many of my friends when I say that there is a sense of loss among all Bombayites regarding their feeling of security. and of the city they call home. I know I do.
