And here we go again

26th November. A frantic Nivedita called me to tell me Mumbai was under attack. Are you safe? Don't go out! She went on and on and on. The annoying girl in office says 'pakistan ko to uda dena chahiye' as though it were the women and children of Pakistan brandishing guns at Colaba women. Siddharth Dhanvant Sanghvi (whom I'd accused of sense, after reading some of his writings) wrote half a page in the sunday times, about how he does not want to cheapen and devalue grief by writing about it. Ram gopal Varma, is going to make yet another movie, and this time its on this, and it stars the CM's son. Shobha De accuses politicians of Shamelessnes (Pray, Mrs. De. Do you ever read what you write?) The papers are full of news about how broken Bombay is, how 'pakistan's hand is all but nailed' about how much we have lost, about revolution, about coastal security, about soft approaches to terror, about everything in the world. Unfortunately, in todays times, even news isn't news anymore. It makes you nothing but 'a voyeur of other peoples grief' to quote Sanghvi. We'll make more terror movies, write terror books. We'll call to our rescue, every cliche possible, we'll walk with black bands on the roads, wear white shirts to offices and schools, shut our bloody gobs for a minute, and thats about it. You can't not move on. An hour after dozens of people were shot dead in VT, trains were back. The old masculine hag in office said 'Haan. Aana to padega' on 27th morning.

9 30 AM, on my way to meet the boss

I stood in my office corridoor on the second floor

A train sped by on the tracks nearby.

There were people hanging out of it.

The sky was blue. Delicious wisps of cloud hung over it.

The weather was pleasant.

Thane creek glimmered in the distance and so did hundreds of twenty storeyed suburban apartments

Bombay was sad.

A strain of a morning meerabhajan, that had made me cry for days filled my ears

and a line I read in a beautiful book recently, flashed across my mind

'I'm only human, we all can despair. But let it never be said that we gave up. We all must keep up our struggle for personal beauty and joy'

My vision of a lennonesque world, was rudely interrupted by a senior official on his way upstairs.
But let it not be said that I gave up.


P.S I think there's a fat chance of her reaing this, but thank you, Ms. Roy, for those words!