Mahabharatha

I was on my way from Bangalore on 26th Nov. Gosh! It felt like a weekend and it was just Wednesday… two more days to go for the weekend. How I wish I had a break, I was in no mood to go to office the next day. Little did I know that God actually heard this prayer.. of all the things that I had ever asked – a Merc, a villa in South of France, an Oscar – of all these humble things the only prayer he heard was that I wanted a break on Thursday. And how did he go about granting me this wish. He killed around 200 people. Is this called two birds with one stone? I get my break and he gets to control the population by a bit. I know I’m sounding morbid. But, I don’t know how else to feel. I am numb.

Like all previous visits to Mumbai, I thought nostalgia would creep up on me and leave me teary eyed. But it was not to be. I looked out of the window when the flight was landing. The sight of Mumbai all decked up with diamonds, or so it seems from up above, didn’t make my heart soar. When I got down and walked out, the once familiar sights, sounds and smells didn’t overwhelm me with the sense of familiarity. Maybe my umbilical chord with the city was being severed – a bit at a time – all thanks to my resettlement to Bangalore. But then it happened - the 60 hour siege on the city by a few thugs who brought this mighty city to its knees. And all those feelings about the city surged back into my heart. Once a Mumbaikar, always a Mumbaikar – what a cliché!!

Glued to the TV, gobbling up every detail that was being spewed out by the reporters, at times wishing they would give updated information, at times cursing them for giving out details of movements of our security forces, at times hating the Muslims for being such a brainless and ruthless community, at times being sure that the Bajrang Dal, BJP, RSS and other forces were the brains behind this and indeed all such terror attacks on the country, at times hoping that all the hostages come out safely, at times reasoning that if it meant sacrificing a few civilian lives to kill the terrorists, then so be it, at times feeling genuine sorrow for the captives at Taj and Oberoi, at times envy raising its ugly head that they could afford to be there and I cannot, at times thinking of the terrible blow this event had caused to the image of the city in eyes of the international community, at times beaming with pride that we had a NSG that was touted as being brave and couteous at the same time – presenting a perfect image of India, at times mourning the death of the dead police offiers and NSG personnel, at times thinking these are the very people responsible for this calamity because of their complacency and indifference, at times feeling deeply saddened by the state of the foreigners who were caught in the mess, at time cursing those very foreigners for being the harbingers of death for so many Indians – civilians and otherwise, at times pitying the government and the decision takers for the immense pressure they were under and the ultimate guilt they would have to carry to their death bed of blood of innocents on their hands, at times wishing I had enough money to put a contract out to kill these very politicians for raping my country over and over again. I was so unsure of what I felt, what I should feel, what is appropriate for the occasion.

There was just one thing of which I was sure, that nothing was going to change. Nothing has changed since 1992-93 – I am not very optimistic about any change in future either. The country is made up of millions like me who pay lip service but lack the courage, will and conviction to actually do something about it. India is indeed very unfortunate to have such impotent children. It’s as if she was Gandhari, mother of Kauravas – blindfolded and mother to a 100 children who are destined to die an ignoble death from the time they were born.