A girl looks on as thousands gather at Gateway of India for the 26/11 Peace Rally on 3rd December 2008
Mumbai: The receding darkness still digs into the vanilla sky above the Arabian Sea. The streets are littered with newspaper boys, tea vendors and the daily commuters from across the island and beyond. Every denizen of this Invisible City attempting to recapture their lives in whatever manner they can. And on the shore near the wrecked remains of the Taj Mahal Hotel hundreds of candles still stand fast in memoriam to face the new dawn.
A lot has changed in the last week. The streets of Mumbai seem quieter, people subdued, the buildings arched as if in silent mourning. But it is not to be misunderstood. The spirit of the city is shaken but not shattered. There are more barricades on the streets, more soldiers geared with automatic weapons behind makeshift forts, metal detectors at railway stations and teams of dogs sniffing the streets on police leashes. In spite of the stand-still of the last few days, the city is back in its fast forward mode. Only the people haven’t quite caught up to it yet.
After all only ten days ago, on the night of 26th November, ten young men of Pakistani origin - barely into their twenties - began a massacre with Machiavellian precision. They ended lives without mercy and smiles on their faces. They repainted the Victorian architecture of the Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus with human blood. They decimated the structure and spirit of Colaba Causeway’s 19th century Leopold Café with explosive hate. And then they burnt down the majesty of two sea side hotels – of the past and future – with remorseless hate. In total attacking ten locations across the city and eventually taking more than 170 lives while leaving hundreds, if not thousands, in hospitals.
“Gateway (of India) was our ‘Ground Zero’,” says Tejas Karguppikar, 21, student and film-maker, as he looks over the bay waters opposite Taj Mahal hotel. “I didn’t know on 26th night what was happening. My friend and I were having dinner at Grant Road,” he whispers, trembling, contemplating an alternate future, “just 10-15 minutes away when my father called to see where I was. I couldn’t believe it was for real.” But it was real. The scorch marks on the facade are still visible in the morning light as pigeons circle the sky over the Taj’s dome roof.
It is not something any city can or should shrug and move on from. To deny ourselves feeling is to deny our very nature as compassionate creatures of god. The coping process however has been a particularly trying one. Facing the slow dawn of early December near the Gateway of India is a true reminder of that. Scattered everywhere are the remnants of the night before when thousands descended here looking for peace. It is simply the leftovers of the city’s offering to destiny that never again should we succumb to such helplessness and confusion.
Through the week that led to last night the people’s reactions have been many and varied. Some were devastated, some angered and some too stunned to react. There was outcry against the politicians, the bureaucrats, the police, the governments – Indian and Pakistani – the desire to witness justice and validation for what they had suffered. What they were left with was loss and lots of unanswered questions. And the youth wouldn’t wait much longer.
“I called my friends and family in Mumbai from London, “says Abhijeet Ahluwalia, 22, journalism student, “I knew they would most likely be in the area of the attacks. I couldn’t reach anyone for a long time but finally got through. I was anxious to know where everyone was and what was going on.”
As information started flowing in, it was the youth that felt a never felt a never before felt sense of social responsibility. Communities on Facebook, Twitter and Orkut piled up on the late night during the first day of the attack, co-coordinating efforts to help hospitals, victims, blood banks and start volunteering. Children fought against their parent’s better judgment, fueled with a youthful fire they themselves couldn’t understand. The culmination of their efforts gave birth (with appropriate institutional assistance) to the Peace March that took place yesterday evening.
The rally was more than just a cry for attention from these students. It was a reminder to the world that there wasn’t going to be a next time. As dusk began to descend, the gates of colleges flung open with a flood of students numbering thousands. Groups of students covered the streets all the way from the J. J. Flyover near CST Station, all directed towards the Gateway of India. Groups of hundreds from different college across the city numbering into thousands organized themselves to represent their outrage at the atrocities of the attacks and the irresponsibility of the government.
Large flocks of students dressed in white or tricolor or black; visibly displaying their emotion on their sleeves. Some carrying large banners across the front row, some had slung up effigies of Pakistani and Indian leaders, some echoing with chorus’ of unified voices shouting slogans of peace. There were girls dressed in burkhas alongside their low rider donning counterparts, college hierarchy had come to a dissolve and the message was more important than the messengers. And the message was clear – We Want Answers, We Want Accountability and in some cases We Want Revenge.
“Our banner was painted to clearly show our group’s views,” says Khushboo Lohia, 21, student and local artist. “Our slogan was ‘Stop Reacting, Be Proactive’ - we can’t just sit back and expect the government to fix all this. We need to get involved.” The banner is still floating in the bay below with small leave bowls filled with flowers and candles, and a small chit bearing the names of all the known victims.
“We could only find the names of 122 victims”, says Prakrit Dhondiyal, 19, literature student “They might as well be our names. Any of us could’ve been at Leo’s or Gateway or CST…my friend was shopping at Causeway just an hour before firing broke.” The anger fills his face as tears well up in his eyes. He admits there was a lot more lost in those three days than anyone would dare admit. Perhaps it was a loss of innocence that has never before been felt by this generation. And it is surely something they never wish to ever forget.
“There was a certain hollowness as the night labored on,” says Shibani Bose, student and designer, “Initially I was hopeful to see so many…thousands of people gathered together, with candles and prayers, but there was also a lot of hate.” There is evidence of that too. A heap of banners lies next to a travel booth where people usually buy tickets to have fun at the nearby Elephanta Islands or Ali Bagh Beach. One of them reads “Death to Pakistan”; another says “Muslims Go Back”.
Hate was fast to brew to the surface. Everyone needed someone to blame and for a few it was an issue sufficient enough to manipulate into causing further divisions in the fabric of the community. It wasn’t successful. “There was a group of hooligans trying to cause trouble, “says Mallvika Bhadwal, 20, psychology student, “they were shouting anti-Muslim and anti-North Indian messages. Last I saw of them was one of them being slapped by a young Parsi girl and then being shoved out by a group of local Marathi activists.”
Some students are still here long after the marching is done. Small groups all along the bay wall overlooking the sea. Being watched by security personnel from afar they are for the better part left undisturbed. Puffing on cigarettes and sipping cycle-wallah chai, they have been here since last night. They don’t want to sleep, they say they have been sleeping all this while, finally they are awake.
“The city is strong, “says Amte, the chai-walla who’s sharing a cigarette with one of the boys, “We will get through this. It is good to see so many young people who care. The politicians take advantage of their apathy. I hope this will change all that.”
“I’m not entirely convinced anything will change, “rants Sam, 21, student looking across to his friends in with a provocative stare, “We’re here today – so what? We gathered, Javed Akhtar said a nice prayer, National Anthem, a moment of silence. Great. Tomorrow return to college, exams, jobs…how many of us are even going to vote this election? How many of us are even registering?”
It’s almost a challenge he spouts to his friends. But it is something to think about, everyone falls quiet. Tejas, Prakrit, Khushboo, Shibani and Mallvika all bow their heads in quiet agreement. There is a bitter truth in Sam’s statement.
“But we don’t have to,” says Abha Talesara, 22, literature student, social activist and rally leader, “that’s precisely the point. This event has given us the opportunity to choose what we want to do and understand our responsibilities. Sit, do nothing and stop complaining or at least go out into the world and attempt to be citizens if not revolutionaries.”
Sam nods in agreement. “I guess none of us should doubt that a young and dedicated group of citizens can save our country, “he says with a wistful and hopeful smile “after all, it’s the only thing that ever has.”
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