Hoping against hopes

When I started this blog I was very certain that it’s going to be an account of an ordinary day in my ordinary life. I was certain that it’s just going to be ramblings and musings that turn my ordinary day into a note of retrospection. And that’s the reason why my blog has never discussed serious issues that required attention. I always believed and still do, that life is beautiful and that I’m lucky to be born as a human in this wonderful world that we live in. And this terrorist attack has not brought about any change in my beliefs. I’ll continue to love life and that too life in this city the same way as I used to. I am not scared to loiter on the narrow lanes of this city because some preachers of barbarism decided to stain it with blood. I breathe in this city and this city runs in my blood. I know that there are better places in this world to survive and I can afford to migrate. But I love this city too much to bid adieu to it. My eyes have refused to dry up in the last sixty hours...something or the other that I watch or read well up my eyes.

I will never forget the image of a burning Taj ever in my life. For me, the Taj is Mumbai, it’s me, it’s the splendour that represents my city.

I will never forget that a little alertness from the intelligence services would have saved my city.

I will never forget that had my city’s police force been equipped with modern weapons, the heroes of my city would have come back alive.

I will never forget that the scene where the ATS Chief Hemant Karkare got into action after wearing a helmet and assuring his colleagues that they don’t have to fear as he’s with them.

I will never forget that Ashok Kamthe spoke to his wife before setting out for the mission and assured his dad that it’s just one of those things and that he’ll reach home victorious.

I will never forget the picture on Mumbai Mirror – a distraught Mrs। Salaskar on the feet of her husband when they brought her warrior dead.

I will never forget the scene that I am witnessing on TV now, a mother of an enterprising NSG Major Sandeep Unnikrishnan trying to get a glimpse of her martyr son who was supposed to visit her this December। A mother who was waiting with the menu for the month – her son’s favourite dishes. What does it take for a father to call up a news channel and say that his only child died a martyr’s death?

I will never forget Karambir Kang, the General Manager of Taj who spent time rescuing guests while his own family – his wife and two kids – were burnt to death in the fire set by the terrorists। I cannot even begin to imagine the plight of the mother who must have found herself so helpless to see her children writhing in pain.

I will never forget the tremor in the voice of a father from Haryana whose son Gautam called him up in the middle of the night and said, “Dad are you sleeping? Please put on the TV and let me speak to mom and my younger brother।” Gautam was an intern with one of the hotels and was killed in the terrorist attack.

I will never forget the way the fire-men rescued the guests moving from room to room, standing tall on their ladders, risking their own lives.

I will never forget the father at CST who kept running for help carrying his five-year old daughter। She was shot by the terrorists and was bleeding profusely. A little bruise on my son’s knee is enough to make me paranoid....

I will never forget the tremor in the voice of an Oberoi staf as he spoke on FM about a 20-something girl who was shot by the terrorist. She kept pleading that she doesn’t want to die when they shot her again.

I will never forget the two year-old who was rescued from Nariman House while his parents were still trapped inside. His birthday will always cast a gloom in his life as that was the very day his parents and grandparents were shot down by terrorists. His grandparents had flown in from Israel to celebrate his special day.

I will never forget Chef Emanuele Lattanzi who helped around 30 guests to get out safely from The Vetro in Oberoi and later rushed to resue his family comprising his wife and six-month old daughter.

I will never forget the death of Havaldar Gajendra Singh, a jawan whose life Major Sandeep Unnikrishnan was tring to serve.

I will never forget the brave front put up by the staff of The Taj and The Oberoi in providing physical and moral support to the guests and hostages.

I will never forget the funeral scenes of the matryrs who put up a brave front and fought a valiant battle before laying their lives for the nation.

I will never forget the grief on those faces who had either lost a loved one or was hunting for information on a love one.

....and I hope that we all get strength to come to terms with this enormous loss of lives, some young...some old!