Tears for Mumbai
A few days ago, my cousin and her family moved out of the Taj hotel and into their home. If they hadn’t, they’d have been in a burning room in the Heritage wing. What has happend with the beautiful Taj hotel of Mumbai has turned the city from a “city of dreams” to a city of nightmares. A bunch of misguided youngsters who have convinced themselves that their god, sitting in his big gold office up in the sky, is smiling upon them as they rip through the city in an insanely violent rampage.
It’s unbelievable, numbling, bone chilling. I was watching a video of how a police vehicle had been jijacked and how the men inside it suddenly began to spray bullets all around them when the video seemed to fall down… apparently the video journalist was killed. Even from this far away in Delhi, every moment on television is blood curdling.
My best friend was supposed to be in Mumbai last night – when it all started – but didn’t go because he had to be there for his mother’s eye doctor appointment. My ex colleagues are somewhere in the chaos of the city, I hope, safe! I’m sure I’ll discover more and more people that one knows will turn out to be affected in some way. Every few hours someone comes up and says “two friends of mine are at Trident” or some such thing.
With all of this intense burning war on one of our top cities – our finanical capital in fact – the prime minister’s address to the nation made in his usual sing song calm voice sounds mellow and unreassuring. We will find these perpetrators and punish them… Ah, sure. Whoever these guys are, there are more where they came from. An endless supply of brainless non-individuals, ready to die, congratulating themselves on each act of violence, believing themselves to be righteous and good…
It’s going to happen again, isn’t it?





