terror

Today news reports, blogs and e-mails are flowing fast and freely. There's a lot of emotion and drama. People are rushing to light candles, attend meetings and generally charged to 'do something'. Many are also demanding that the authorities do that elusive 'someting.'

Others are saluting the 'spirit of Mumbai' and bravely trying to carry on as usual.

But at the end of the day, this incident may be as quickly forgotten as the previous terror attacks in Mumbai, and the recent bomb blasts in Surat, Delhi and elsewhere. I wonder how long it will be before the media and the public forget this horror and run after the next cricket match or a child trapped in a well.

Will any lasting lessons ever be learnt from this tragedy? Will there be a greater political will to prevent such thigns from happening?

Many of us are wanting to do something. IMHO a starting point could be if we mobilised opinion for a better pay package and more advanced equipment (weapons, bullte proof vests etc) for the true heroes who risk their lives to keep us safe. It's a sad anomaly in our country that youngsters who take porders for pizza from overseas callers can earn much more in a safe job than protectors of our security.

Ending with a prayer for peace,

mumbai mayhem

The unfolding terror drama in Mumbai is truly shocking. My memories of Mumbai are personal and warm. We lived and worked there for four years. True, the commuting distances are huge and life is just too hurried and hassled for the city's teeming millions. True, one has the jostle through crowds, negotiate heavy traffic and polluted air.

Yet warm human memories remain etched in my soul. The time when I was stuck in a jam-packed local train and the rough-looking fellow commuters came to my rescue. The time when I slipped on the steep steps of the railway overbridge and strangers came forth to ask if everything was ok. My sweet elderly neighbour who let all the kids returning from school play with her cute little pooch, the memories are many. I've always loved 'Maximum City' as a vibrant place where every stranger can feel welcome. Mumbai has always been India's, and my personal city of dreams. I found the city much more disciplined and comfortable for working women compared to many other Indian cities.

I used to take my son out to Gateway of india when he was a tot. We sould browse through the Prince of Wales Museum and the Jehangir art gallery, where the ancient artefacts and miniature paintings never failed to elcii wonder from my little one. We would end the outing with a boat ride and a stroll by the Taj Hotel. We used to love those outings. the News images seem to be coming from another world.

I only hope and pray that the nighmare will end soon. We must not allow a misguided few to ruin what has been built over generations.

Commuting in Mumbai

During my days as a commuter in Mumbai's rush hour traffic, I remember how people in trains and buses made the best of a tedious routine. Long train journeys served several purposes. Some allowed the rocking train to lull them into a hard-earned catnap. The trains threw many people together, regular commuters who shared the same compartment on the same route daily for years. They played cards, exchanged pleasantries and some even became bosom buddies. Many trains had their regular card playing teams, with onlookers placing bets and cheering their favorite side on.

Mumbai's commuters knew all about multi tasking long before management gurus extolled its virtues. Women in the second class ladies' compartments caught up on domestic chores on the way home. They usually reached their suburban homes very late, and every minute mattered. The enterprising ladies knitted, sewed, and even peeled and chopped vegetables for dinner. Vendors entered the compartments and sold everything from fresh fruits and vegetables to hairbands and cosmetics.

Two incidents linger in my memory. One morning, my train halted a furlong from the Churchgate Terminus platform. It was quite a height to jump off, so I waited, hoping the train would start again and take us to the platform. But as office time neared, the more intrepid among us girded their sarees and tied their dupattas, took off their shoes, and took the plunge.

As the minutes ticked by, I remained one of the timid few in the stationary compartment. I peered down yet again at the height I must jump, and faced the exciting options of risking a broken ankle and arriving late at work.

"Don't be scared." A voice startled me by its sweetness. "Hold my hand, close your eyes and just jump."I stared at the owner of the outstretched hand, a slim young woman with an exuberant afro hairdo. Her rich dark skin had a hue not commonly seen among Indian women. In the moments I took to overcome my awe of her beauty, she turned proudly on her heels and disappeared among the crowd.

I guessed she was an African, probably a student at the nearby Bombay University. I wanted to reach out to her, to tell her that if people were taken aback by her exotic looks, it did not necessarily imply racism.

On another drizzly monsoon evening, I emerged from Andheri Station and frantically hailed reluctant autorickshaw drivers to take me home to our apartment. My savior finally arrived, a natty young driver dressed like the reigning Bollywood superstar.

As I entered the auto drenched and shivering, he cut me short by announcing, "donÂ't tell me where you want to go. You don't remember me?"

No, I did NOT!

"You're famous," he continued. "You look for autos around this time every evening. We all know you. We know everything about you. I know exactly where to take you, so just sit quiet and don't bother giving directions."

Who was he? A stalker or a hit man from the underworld perhaps? I shivered in the speeding auto while he regaled me with ceaseless chatter. Should I jump off at the next traffic signal and bolt? Or should I wait and watch? He hadn't taken out a gun or dagger yet, so maybe...

True to his word, he brought me right till the entrance to our housing society without my needing to give a single direction.

"So which one is your building, ma'am?"

"You can drop me right here, thanks. I'll need to pick up a few groceries here, so..."

He stopped, I got down, paid him and watched him sputter away down the street.

In God's Own Image

This piece was published in Deccan Herald in the Wake of New York, 9/11. It's relevant to Mumbai 7/11

In this terror-ridden world, while some are searching for peace and justice and others for more efficient techniques of large-scale mayhem, we have performed a miraculous journalistic scoop. Our colleague, who prematurely left us thanks to one of the countless bombs blasting the planet, has managed this exclusive interview with the Almighty Himself.
Over to the Supreme Creator:
The Lord is frantically polishing His huge signboard in a last ditch effort to restore pristine lustre to His tarnished name. A frown of annoyance disturbs the eternal tranquility of His noble visage, as Ishwar, Allah, Jehovah, God Almighty, or whatever believers of different faiths choose to call Him, answers our departed colleague's queries.

DH departed reporter: Lord, they say your divine hand is behind everything in this world. Then why this evil and destruction?

God: I created men with free individual wills. So why shirk your responsibilities and pass the buck for your misdeeds on to me? Why ME?

DH: Lord, the people causing the terror say they are doing it in your name. They even expect you to reward them in heaven.

God: For the last and final time, I have always commanded people to love their neighbours. Where have I ever advocated killing innocents? Tell me, which religion advocates hate and destruction?

DH: But Lord, you are the Almighty. The world is looking to you for answers.

God: These horrible perverts have gone berserk. It's true. I did create man in my own image once…(chokes, holding back tears. Then clearing His throat, speaks again)
I gave them the noble gift of intelligence and reason. I let them have free will, wanting them to be a line of defense against the forces of evil.
Today they have turned the tables against me. They are misusing their divine gifts and reinventing me and my teachings in their corrupt image. Such is the power of misconceived faith. You murderous scoundrels, stop this nightmare at once! I command you...Love each other, be good and just and kind.
Listen to me. Why make me the scapegoat? …Please…listen. Spread love, not destruction.
(God faints and is carried away by heavenly attenders)

Why Mumbai?

I'll start with the 'why' of things. Why am I blogging? And What Do I want to say?

Everyone blogs, and maybe that's why I didn't do it until now. Maybe I'm just too shy. Maybe because I felt that people will ultimately notice good work.

But today, I'll start by adding my voice to the cries of many who are moved by the bombings in Mumbai. I lived and worked in Mumbai for several years. It's a city I love, a place where no one is made to feel like a stranger.

Except for increased security at important places, my own city, Bangalore, seems to be quite normal till now. But these blasts have really rattled the people of Mumbai and all Indians. We are now hearing from friends and acquaintances. My own relatives in Mumbai are all safe. But distressing news is trickling in from other quarters. Our former neighbor's, who moved to Mumbai some years ago, have both (married couple) died in the bomb explosions.

There is some finer distinction between natural disasters like earthquakes and tsunamis and man-made ones. Natural disasters are inevitable; fate or the hand of God for those who believe in religion. But when innocents die at the hands of evil humans (?) these barbaric acts of terrorism take on a new and more sinister dimension.

At such times, I prefer to focus upon the innate goodness of ordinary people.

I still remember how my fellow commuters in Mumbai showed touching sparks of warmth and humanity despite the impersonality of mega city rush hour crowds.

At that time, I was in charge of my bank's vault and all keys to the office and everything in it, which was quite a lot of valuables. As usual, I carried the keys in my purse and rushed after work to Churchgate station. I normally went in the separate ladies' compartment, but that evening, the ladies compartment was jam-packed, while some of the general comparmtments had plenty of free seats. So I took a window seat in a general compartment and enjoyed the view. The train passes the seacoast and many parts of the city. The skyline is impressive.

But when the train was nearing my station, I realized that I just couldn't penetrate the wall of men and get off. There were too many people, no space to even place my foot on the floor, let alone move ahead towards the exit. Mumbai's trains carry millions of commuters daily, so one can only imagine the density of the rush hour crowd.

I had several fears. Someone could easily steal my bank keys, a terrible thing. I could lose my job for it and also face a police case considering the amount of money etc involved. Dereliction of duty and everything.

If I missed my station, I could also be hauled up for ticketless traveling since my ticket wasn't valid for the next station.

And I was afraid of being jostled by so many men, at least a hundred of them breathing down my neck. I was just 26 then, young and nervous. But they were so good. When I began requesting them to make way, some of them asked whether I was new to Mumbai? Didn't I know that general compartments would be like this during peak hours?

The men pushed me ahead gently and helped me get off at the right station .All of them made way for me with so much politeness. And an added, 'Always take the ladies' compartment, ma'am'. Not one of them touched me improperly, and I was really grateful for their help. These people were from different religious and linguistic backgrounds. But that didn't matter, as it still doesn't matter to most of us Indians. But I guess horrible incidents like this do tend to raise tempers and reduce patience levels among those directly hit.

This is just what the terrorists want, and we mustn't let them have their way.

During this disaster, the same people who helped me in the train, are coming forward to help the injured and stranded. I salute their spirit.