A thousand words

Friday night saw me looking at one of the nicest night views in Bombay. We (S,Abhi and me)decided to drive to Tardeo for dinner at Oh!Calcutta and on our way we thought that why not drive around a little too. After all there's much merit in loitering around orange-lit roads at night, a lesson I learnt well while cruising the South Delhi roads. So we ended up at the point at Malabar Hill from where you can see the entire trail of blazing lights that is Marine Drive, from Oberoi right up to Chaupati. From where I stood I could see the entire arc, the lights from the cars, throng of people on the tiny beach below, the gentle waves coming in, I could even see a tiny boat silhouetted in the reflection from the Nikon neon sign across. It was one of those moments when even if there's chatter around you, you are in a place where it all seems distant. This isn't the first time I was looking at this view but with the huge orange moon that hung over marine drive, it was something else.

Given above is an example of a picture speaks a thousand words. That is, if you can find a picture worthy of the sight you see.


P.S: If I manage to take a picture which captures it all for me, will post. Don't like any I got. Could any of you out there help?

Moving ahead

I have been away from my blog and my email account for the past few days ... checking them on my phone and not replying. After being glued to them day and night for the past many days I felt that I had to have something substantial to say in my next post. I just felt that I couldn't easily slip back to writing about trivial things in my life; that I couldn't suddenly be normal after everything that has happened. I should not have worried about it, all around me people who were affected have found ways to be and remain a part of this - whatever 'this' is. Overwhelmed is the emotion I have now, next to the grief and anger I talked about - the help and support that people have poured out in every way possible makes me feel like a part of a large whole, it makes me feel hopeful. I was afraid ... what if I got caught up in life and let 'this' die. I should not have worried.

All you guys, we didn't start this but we are going to keep this alive.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Last Wednesday I went to Town, Town is what we like to call South Bombay. It was the longest drive ever - literally and figuratively. I had planned to meet a darling friend and her mum and also wanted to go to the peace march. A close friend didn't want me to go, his point was that there are other ways to help ... still on my way I had thought that I will go to Gateway, what he doesn't know can't hurt him (or me). There are things you need to do for yourself, this just seemed like one of them.

I was scared, I just wasn't sure how I would feel going back to the streets and places which for me are Bombay. I live in the suburbs in a very well-planned township which is cosmopolitan, has all the conveniences and joys which most parts of Bombay cannot afford like open spaces, parks, malls, movie halls, restaurants, nice looking buildings, minimum filth etc. - everything within a 5 min. walk radius. For living, this is the kind of place I would like to live in but this township could have been in any part of India. For me its the colonial structures, the oval maidan, the marine drive, the arched corridors at Fort, the painters at Kala Ghoda, the bustle at causeway ... these are what make it Bombay. The years that I have been here in this city, I have spent numerous days walking about and absorbing the feel of the place and they just keep me coming back. Even the book sellers who aren't there any more, Churchill, Jimmy Boy, NCPA, Rhythm House ... they all are such a part of this city for me that I was scared for what I will feel when I go back this time.

I did feel that heavy sadness which just settles on you, I felt the anger at the thought of these madmen roaming the streets of my city, I felt the sting of tears . But it was some other feeling that took over very soon. I saw the sea of humanity surging towards Gateway, I saw people of all ages, people from different walks of life, people with laptops and people with children, people in groups and people walking alone, people with banners, our flags - they filled the very streets where the terrorists had roamed less than a week back. With rumors still rife it may not have been the safest thing to have over 2 lakh people gather in a not so large space but it did not seem to matter. I was stuck in the traffic for almost two hours and even those who tried to walk it were a part of a pedestrian jam and never reached till Gateway, it hardly mattered though. I have to say that I have never seen or felt anything like it - that traffic snarl and that logistical nightmare was the nicest thing that happened to me after those days.

The movie Halla Bol has this dialogue which I completely love, Pankaj Kapoor (playing Siddhu) says ... Apne Jism pe chot lagne pe to janwar bhi rota hai, insaan wo hai to doosre ki chot mehsoos kar sake - Even an animal cries when there's a wound on its body, a human is one who can feel someone else's wounds.

Sometimes you just need to know that people are affected, that they will walk to a crowded Gateway to speak up - even if that's the only thing they do, that you live in a world where 'everything doesn't go'.

Call for help : Help where it is needed

"Don't waste on candles, bring us fruits and biscuits for the wounded,say doctors".

This small news piece in my HT today made me feel so foolish, I am so caught up in my anger and in what can make me feel better that I am forgetting something. While the political circus goes on, the news has been overtaken by it and may be so has been our efforts. While I don't say that we stop protesting and raising our voices, let us please not forget that along with the 100s that died, many 100s are wounded and lying in hospitals. They need our help and fast.

In terror attacks like blasts which have a sudden but large impact, the response from the public and the aid is faster to come as they are the first ones to start rescue efforts. In the current scenario, the fact that it went on for 50-60 hours the fear psychosis has kept a lot of people away and the hospitals have not received as much help as in some of the terrible fates this city has seen in the past - even in terms of blood donation the help has been lesser.

The doctors in this news piece say that these are govt. run hospitals where the funds constraints mean that nutritious items like fruits are not a part of the meals given to the patients. Also, at times the patient and especially the children shy from eating these meals well given that they are meant to be healthy and not tasty. In such cases even a packet of biscuit is a help in giving them supplements. "A good diet helps overcome trauma faster."

This is an appeal to everyone out there wanting to help, to all those planning to go to South Bombay for the Gateway Vigil tomorrow - please do what you can. Lets not just mourn our dead and forget our living.

DO NOT bring cooked food, bring only dry packaged food or fruits. Please bring/ send fruits and biscuits to the following :

• JJ Hospital. Dr. Jaidev : 23735555
• St. George Hospital. Dr. Ashok Shinde : 9869050622
• GT Hospital : 22630553

This is what I got from the newspaper, I'm not sure if they require medicines or any other supplies, if any of you are aware please leave a comment. I will try to find out and update this.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Update

Linking to Parul's post here as it links to some useful pages. Do check this.

A step at a time

There was a memorial service and a candlelight vigil in our society for all those victims and those brave men - army, NSG, hotel staff, policemen who lost their lives in the recent ... what do I call them - events? massacre? madness? attacks? Attacks.

My society has about 250 flats and consequently a lot of people and its a society very active (and at times, hyper active) in celebrating every festival, general get - togethers, parties and stuff, so I do see people gather and chit chat, celebrate etc. However, I have never seen so many of the residents joining in, I saw faces I had never seen in the past 5 years, people poured out to light a candle and mourn the people they knew and didn't. Old ladies, fathers getting their children to light a candle, the youngsters who usually think it uncool to mingle with anyone above the age of 19. It touched me deeply that pain can get people together even more than joy.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Since I have been jobless for some months I have taken to going down in the evening and after meeting a large number of people have made a few good friends. (For those of you who don't know me too well, I didn't get fired, I'm on a break).When I am down I usually notice stuff, it was part of my job description once and I have always been good at it. SO I am aware of the patterns of games the kids downstairs play and was surprised to see them doing something different in the evening today - the three young girls - 5-7 years old, had their bellies to the floor and were crawling on their elbows. I looked at one of my friends with a surprised look and she said,"They are playing commando". I didn't know whether to smile or well up about that.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yesterday a friend sent me this text message - 'Am I the only one who is bursting into tears every now and then?My anguish and outrage is overwhelming me'. The message came at a time when I was wondering the same and grappling with some questions that won't leave me. Am I the only one this affected? Why am I this affected? This surely isn't the only time this city has seen devastation.

All of you out there, believe me, we are all together in this unhappiness. Lets please not let go of it so easily, if we forget, who will remember?

How do we go on?

I talked of many emotions yesterday and I am left with only two now. Grief and Rage. Grief and Rage. How could this happen to us? How DID this happen to us? There are horrifying stories of people being killed at point blank range, there are images of a young boy cremating his father and a father cremating his son, a mother talking to his brave son who lies in a coffin covered with the Tiranga, there is a sea of grieving, shocked family members. So many lives, SO MANY OF THEM. Left midway, truncated. Lives, families, children, friends, plans all left midway with a violent end. How WILL they ever recover from it? These guys they come barging into our lives and take over, just like that? Who are they? And what made them into these animals? What did these people who are lying dead ever do to them? Did god not give these boys the mental facilities which help you distinguish right from wrong? Did he not give them humanity? Such hate? What do their aakas hope to achieve from this, how will our despair help them?

The brave forces have completed the operations, after three very long days and even longer nights. They have killed some of the terrorists, they have also rescued so many of the precious lives. Still how can we say that we have conquered them?! We have been brought to our knees , they succeeded in doing what they started out to - done the damage to our lives, our city, our people and our spirit. If we cannot accept that, there is no way we could ever get up. The operations might be over but this is far from over. I have no clue where to go from here. How can I just go back to living my life like I did, as if nothing happened? And if I don't am I not letting them win? I don't know where to look for these answers, I don't even know if the answers exist.

My City Bleeds

Grief. Anger. Helplessness. Rage. Tears. Goosebumps. Numbness. I finally find the strength to think and write about it. Its been hours and hours of this and Bombay is still burning, no one knows when will there be an end to this nightmare. We have been glued to the TV switching from one news channel to another for about 40 hours now, not able to sleep, eat or tear our ears and eyes away. The images of people with haunted eyes, blood soaked streets; the images of places we love, places we go to - burning, flicker behind my eyes even as I try to nap. And I worry, worry, worry.

As the terrified yet relieved faces of those rescued are shown on TV every once in a while, I tremble in relief for them and in grief for the numerous who did not, would not make it. What the survivors have gone through and what they have seen is going to haunt them for their lives. Neither are we. The images of The Taj building going up in flames, the sounds of blasts and gunfire, the reports of bodies strewn about in the two hotels, the martyred soldiers are not something we are likely to forget in our lifetimes. So we do what we can, sitting in our living rooms, watching our city being defiled, we pray for those who were, still are caught up in this and for those who have walked in willingly to bring out the ones they consider their duty. We pray for those who have lost friends, family members to this wanton hate. I have no idea what consolation to give them.

Our policemen, armymen, the NSG, the naval commandos, the hotel staff, the Airforce troopers they all fill our screens and hearts, they give us hope in this hopeless hour. The brave of our country doing their jobs as if its not their lives too that are stake. I swing between despair at what has happened and a fierce pride in our people.

On 26th November night, as we hear the news after a cousin called to check on us, I hear the words 'The Taj' and then ... The Oberoi. S and I strain to get every bit of information, I feel guilty and selfish looking especially for every bit of news on The Oberoi, praying especially hard for it. And for the first time I understand what the families of our defence forces must go through. My close close friend's dad, a friend who is my person, her dad takes care of the security details at the Oberoi, determined to leave only when every last one who needs help has been helped, I feel the fear and pride of it all for the past many hours. In the initial 8-10 hours as there's no contact with him after he rushed to resume his duties, we, her friends, hold our own vigil and pray our separate prayers. I feel helpless and I feel ashamed of my emotional state as she and her mom put up a brave front for friends, even as the news of firing, blasts and fires at the Oberoi fill the news reports. And I feel something which no word in my vocabulary describes, as she tells me that she could never ask him to come back home to his own safety while people are still stranded, its not something he would ever do. My girl, I can only give my prayers , my heart tells me that such goodness and such spirit can come to no harm. Yet I don't know how to explain our cops dying in the line of duty, it does not seem like a world where you ccannot rust your heart or goodness or spirit but I cannot think of ANYTHING else which might be keeping us afloat.

I don't know about the spirit of the people etc., it all sounds like cliches and bytes that the news channels have been beaming for these eternal hours; I only know that if there are people who have the heart to open fire on people going about their business; there are also people who have the heart to walk in and stay till the so very bitter end to fight them and make sure that the damage they can do to us is minimum.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Update: Her dad is ok and here's her story.