Me Mumbaikar

Mumbai now carries the dubiousdistinction of having survived two major terrorist attacks against innocentcivilians within 13 years. It’s a ‘distinction’ we could have donewithout.

Seven RDX-laden bombs in sevendifferent suburban trains of the Western Railway went off in less than 15minutes on the evening of July 11; Mumbai was brought to its knees. Trainservices along the 66 kilometre route were suspended. Hours later, as the darkrainy night fell over a shell-shocked city, Mumbaikars tried to make sense ofwho could hurt them this way, and why. There were no easy answers; truth betold, there were simply no answers. Grief-stricken relatives anxiously searcheda slew of hospitals for their loved ones, some coming upon a corpse, many unableto identify bodies and others unable to locate the person they were looking for,struggling in the absence of any lists. Starry, starry night was never thiscruel.  

Lakhs of Mumbaikars were stranded inoffices or along the Western Express Highway, clambering upon trucks andcrowding into taxis to make the routine journey home. Routine was never thisfearful or eerie. Those who had helped extricate the dead and injured fromflaming train compartments, those who took them to hospitals, those who informedrelatives if they could locate identification on the dead or injured, those whodonated blood, distributed water, biscuits and bed-sheets to the stranded andthe searching, wondered at the sheer evil that underscored the well-planned andsynchronized attacks but kept at their tasks. Good Samaritans were never so manyand so willing.  

Those in the know knew of a threatperception to Mumbai, the Anti Terrorist Squad of the Mumbai police had detectedand confiscated 30 kilos of the deadly RDX, tens of weapons like the AK-56,hundreds of grenades and other ammunition in April-May from second-tier citiesand towns across Maharashtra, like Aurangabad, Manmad, Malegaon. Mumbai was,briefly, on the edge but Mumbaikars went back to their usual blasé selves asdays went by. Intelligence reports were apparently vague. Aren’t they alwaysso? Perhaps those in the know also slackened off, perhaps they could only dothis much and no more, perhaps they had no systems to detect suspicious personsand materials in the swarming multitude of nearly seven million commuters whouse the railway lines every day. Complacency had not ever taken so many lives orextracted such a high price. 

School children at Mahim railway station

A large slice of Mumbai did not sleepthis Tuesday night, another could not. Mumbaikars greeted the next dawn withsome apprehension, a lot of courage. Children were packed off to schools,lectures droned on as usual in colleges, men and women made their way to railwaystations to board their usual train to work. Some wondered if they would everfeel safe travelling in these rat-a-tat coaches, some thought they should beginto say final good-byes each morning, some looked under seats a trifle longerthan usual, some surveyed the overhead luggage racks for an unidentified bag.The edginess was back, the look over the shoulder was longer, noise levels onrailway platforms were lower, silences and watery smiles replaced the usualbonhomie among regular pass-holders. The anger, though, was palpable. Themorning after had never been so uneasy or so uncertain.  

Some twenty-four hours later, theofficial toll read 200 dead and over 714 injured. More than sixty bodies had notbeen identified, could not be identified. Helplines were still jammed. Blogs, FMradio stations and televisions channels helped people stay in touch from afar.The bhajan mandali groups in local trains were subdued, prayers more intheir hearts and less on the lips. Mumbaikars had coped with one night ofterror. VIPs had visited and mouthed the usual platitudes and pieties,investigators suggested that clues were not definite but pointed to Islamicterrorist groups, mostly the Lashkar-e-Tayyaba. The PM addressed the nation,asked people to stay calm. That appeal was a day too late. Mumbaikars had,indeed, kept their wits about them, dismissed rumours and stayed as calm asfurious citizens could be. The answers were still not coming. The face of terrorwas never this sinister and so hazy.  

A blood donation camp at Thane railway station

What do "they" want ofMumbai? We do not know who the they are, we can only conjecture, evenspeculate. Thank his good senses that a certain Bal Thackeray did not speculate,conclude and start retribution that very night. If they wanted to rubtheir hands in glee at a terror-stricken, strife-torn, blood-spilling city wherethe wheels finally came to a standstill, they were disappointed. Hopefully,sorely so. Irrelevant it may be, but even the Bombay Stock Exchange gave aresounding response. Mumbaikars had never given it back so good and so hard.  

Mumbai will always carry the scars andmemories of the Black Tuesday just as it holds in its bosom the hurt and scarsof March 12, 1993, the Black Friday when 13 RDX bombs went off in the space ofone afternoon, taking 257 lives and leaving 800 injured and maimed. Theperpetrators of that dastardly attack are yet to be brought to book. It may beyears, if at all, before the mastermind of July 11 blasts stands trial. Justicewould bring closure, Mumbaikars could move on. But justice is a long wait;years, perhaps decades.

Back then, many of us believed thatMarch 12, 1993 was that never-again event, even cold-blooded terrorists couldnot strike again. Many of us were horribly wrong. Now, Mumbaikars hope thatcold-blooded, evil-intentioned, blood-sucking monsters will not strike again.Hope, after all, is the one commodity that comes free in expensive Mumbai; humanlife is cheap.