It’s been more than 6 hours now that the mayhem began. Mumbai, as I write, is ablaze. The Taj, Mumbai’s premier hotel, the postcard picture of Mumbai, the symbol of a centenarian Mumbai, was set on fire by grenades. Terrorists came in through the Arabian sea and disembarked on the southern Mumbai, India’s economic HQ, wrecking an unprecedented havoc. And it wasn’t just the Taj. The Hilton towers, Madam Cama hospital, Victoria Terminus along with 8 other prime locations in down town Mumbai have been targets of terror attacks with Indian, American & British hostages being held. A debutante attack of the Deccan Mujaheddin impaled Mumbai right through her heart. Apocalyptic images are running across my TV screen. Shattered glass, sanguine streets and singed heritage. Mumbai’s very own holocaust. I am commentating on the situation with R.(who is in Bangalore) on the phone, discussing and deducing, canvassing and concluding. Divinities, Prophets, Idolatries & Pagans. Scrutinizing the roots of hatred while recurrent images of The Taj in flames flash on the TV. A terrorist’s face is shown. He looks high on gunpowder, his face smeared in blood and those eyes... like a cannibal’s.. I change the channel. The Taj in flames again. Some of the harbingers of death die. Martyrs are borne. 80 lives killed. 200 lives broken. A city shook.
This night will be bookmarked forever in this city while I close my eyes with a silent prayer. Amen.
courtesy - Reuters
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