Boom To Bu'r'st : Mumbai's Spirit

Boom To Bu'r'st : Mumbai's Spirit ( written on 17th July 2006)

Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

That's all it took to take so many innocent lives in a matter of minutes. Innocent lives. Their only mistake was their wretched fate! Mine wasn't. I survived.

I could have been one of the several who did not survive. Just a matter of 10 minutes between tragedy and me. That's how close it got. But I survived. Fate.

Now, I am sitting here just because we had a small lecture, which wasn't scheduled. It came out of the blue, like an angel. I didn't reach Dadar at my diurnal time and survived.

At that moment, as I waited for the train to arrive on platform 5, I cursed the train for being late. I didn't know yet what had transpired just a few miles away. It was 6:30. There was a bit of uncertainty and commotion on the platform. A train stood still 200 meters from the platform and all its passengers were on the track. As I listened to Yunhi Chala Chal Rahi, I heard the booming announcement " All trains on platform 1 and 3 for Andheri, Borivali and Virar have been suspended. I asked around and prompt came the reply "Bomb blast between Matunga and Mahim." I just couldn't believe it. I laughed and muttered that it must be a rumor. But as the minutes ticked by, the feeling began to sink in. It had actually happened. I ran outside to get an alternate way back. I cursed my luck. Just a few days back I was stranded in the deluge and had to walk my way back in knee-deep water. Now here I was, in Dadar surrounded by hoards and hoards of people, rushing to catch Taxis or Buses. The heavens had opened up.

It started raining so heavily that Umbrellas were losing the battle and people succumbing to the forces of nature. It was as if God was crying. It was amazing how it happened 5 minutes after the 7 blasts. Sometimes God gives us signs. But that made my life even tougher. The whole road was blocked with cars, Taxis and buses galore. I decided that I would walk and so I did. But the rain made even that difficult. I was still cursing God for the troubles he was putting me through. As I walked from Dadar to bandra, I saw many a people voluntarily giving others lift in their AC cars and a few who didn't even look towards the poepl banging on their windows, asking for help. The Buses were as packed as the Virar local just bombed.

I talked to a man who was walking alongside me towards Bandra. He was shaking his head with disbelief. I asked him whether he lived in Bandra. He told me he did, but it was no use going home and trying to sleep. He told me that after seeing the river of blood on the tracks at Mahim, something had died within him. He couldn't shake that image from his mind. I took shelter in a shop when the rain was pelting humungous drops on my umbrella and its condition had further deteriorated. There a man stood smoking a cigarette. He was angry. He wanted to kill those people who had killed such innocent people. He looked at a Muslim who walked by and passed a derogatory comment. He blamed that guy. I couldn't stand there any longer so I thought it would be easier to bare the wrath of God. A deluge of concerned phone calls inundated me, as I marched towards Bandra.

Once I reached there, I saw a group of Muslims coming towards me. My heart jumped for a second. I was afraid the situation might have turned sour. They stood in the middle of the road and forced an empty Taxi to park on the side. I was convinced now that there was a danger much devastating than the blast, ready to unleash. But I was proved wrong. Those people were actually packing into the Taxis and running to help the victims. I thanked God, but still my hurting legs reminded me of the problem he had put me through.

I reached safely and unwound. Uptill now I had not thought about the implications nor my fortune. I had just thought about my misfortune. As images ran on the TV, I realized how lucky I had been. 10 minutes earlier and I would have been sprayed on the tracks.

I realized the importance of those 10 minutes when I reached home the next day and my Mom hugged me. The tension of the past day found a release in tears. We went to the nearest Gurudwara and thanked God for saving me. All this time the feeling had not sunk in. The papers flashed News of the Mumbai spirit. I saw people being interviewd in the Train as I sat there in my living room. I felt proud. The city was back on its feet.

The next day as I woke up to get ready for college, that feeling that I would be in a train in an hours time brought a strange feeling in my chest. My heart raced, The So called pride and spirit, had turned to fear. All the way to the train I was contemplating taking a bus. But I knew that I could have run, but could never hide. If not the train, the bus could be targeted. I decided to stick to the train. It wasn't bravery; I had taken it in my stride. I felt helpless. As I boarded the train which was as packed as it usually is, I noticed a man with a big bag boarding the train. I couldn't stop this feeling of fear growing inside me. What if that guy was a bomber? I would be dead. I closed my eyes and gave in. I thought to myself "So be it". But Dadar arrived without incident. I noticed people watching each other's carefully. All traveled in complete silence and kept an eye on each other's belongings. How can you feel safe in this city? The question ran through each ones mind.

As I read each article of Mumbai Spirit in the papers, my eyes turned moist. At that moment rage had erupted within me. I couldn't stand this farce. Who were we trying to impress. This was no spirit; it was pure necessity and helplessness. We traveled by train because we had to. The rage wasn't just centered at the politicians who were just trying to disown responsibility; it was at the level of helpless ness we have reached. We have become totally numb to such disasters. We have given up totally on the system. Aisa hi hota raha hai, aisa hi hote rahega!! This feeling is the vermin that is eating us from within. We have put our hands up and it doesn't matter to us whether the government perfoms, or the civic body performs or the security system performs. We have become impotent. I got out of that train feeling distraught. Everywhere I looked I saw danger. I felt vulnerable.

The evening time was even worse. I had completely resigned to my Fate and deliberately boarded the Virar local at 6:20 from Dadar.Call it being foolhardy or being plain stupid. Maybe I had become too emotional. But at that moment I had decided, if death was what was written, so be it. The train was uncharacteristically empty. At this time usually I couldn't even have thought of getting inside. The men in this train are usually packed like sardines, but today it wasn't. I gave myself 13 more minutes to die, the time within which I would reach Andheri and start believing in life again. The person behind me received his call. He said " bus? Why bus? It would take me an eternity to reach home. Don't worry. I will be home safe and sound" I imagined how worried his wife would be. I imagined how people would be feeling when their near and dear ones would leave for their daily job. As if they were in the army, ready to fight a war. I imagined how mom would have felt when I was at Dadar station on that day. I imagined her relief when I reached home safely. Andheri arrived and I thanked God again. I knew that this fear would not die easily, this concern would not w\vanish in a hurry (not even at the pretence of Mumbais spirit). I knew that I would have to send 2 smses to Mom.One After I reached Dadar and the other when I reached Vidyavihar for a long time to come…..

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

p.s: Lets just think of options to make this city a secure place.

I have thought of one.: India is very late but it can still start giving people SSN social security numbers as In many countries. All the details of each person should be available on police records. Fingerprints, past details, criminal record. Its imperative that they think of some line of finding the culprits. Maybe they wont have all on record in a short time. But slowly they can build their database. Its can be vital in tracking people.

Fight Club - Mr Villkhoo's Awakening

I just watched Fight club for the n’th time. Tyler’s in my head right now. I am Tyler Durden. I am the cancerous growth blobbing inside his head. Ready to blow, to unleash death. I walk 4 steps and bang my fist on the wall. The pain is obviated by the release of the immense frustration inside me. The animal is on the prowl. To devour, to devastate. Once again the image of the Hindi film Fight club comes to his mind. He winces with even the thought of such sacrilege. How could the director violate the sanctity of such a masterpiece? Just for the heck of it, he punches the paper stack. A few mid-days fly outta the window. The phone rings. Someone asks for Mr.Villkhoo. Tyler growls “Mr.Villkhoo is being screwed by the world right now. Do you want to hear his hapless whimpers? Haan? Do you? you S.O.B…” The voice now transforms into an engage tone. Tyler gets up and opens the door, to find another victim. He walks down the stairs. 3 flights down he meets the wretched old man. Yes, Mr.Villkhoo had been polite to him even when he cursed. But Tyler lets him have it. The old man nearly has a stroke and is staggering when Tyler decides to move on. He is still seeping with anger, bobbing in the deepest trenches of his heart. He picks up a paper and comes back to his building when a kid stops him and asks him for the newspaper. The kid says he wants to read the Comic strips. The Cartoon strips. Tyler has started to hate these strips. He never imagined they could cause so much devastation. He never thought it could insult a religion or ever be used for the same. He never agreed to the mayhem, neither the cause, nor the effect, but it deepened the cavern inside him. What do these fanatics hope to achieve. Worldwide reactions deploring the act are not enough. Apology is not enough. They want the cartoonists head!!! Like it is an apple hanging from a branch. Pluck it and I will bury u in gold. He slams the paper on the kid’s head. The kid winces with pain. Owwwww’ what did u do that for.??” . “Cartoons could kill” sez Tyler and moves on.

He wishes he could just blow into smithereens the politicians who play with the uneducated and down trodden masses. Who instigate the public, mind-wash them, throw them into the forefront and watch from the sidelines as they r lined up to be killed. He hopes education would pervade the society like ants in his cupboard. Tyler doesn’t pay heed to any chants for Mr.Villkhoo. He just barges past everyone and gives them the finger. Inside his house again, he closes his eyes to the sight of Police slapping his friend. He remembers the day vividly. Meerut garden. Police slap his friend repeatedly. What was his offence? Holding his soul mates hand in public. He names the guy Rohit. Rohit was his friend. The police had unjustly beaten him in front of cameras. The moral policing in India nowadays has reached its epitome. First the police harassed people in the name of the law, now in the name of morals. He vowed in the name of Rohit, that he would teach the system one day. Tyler snaps out of it. He sits in front of the television. The one thing he loves. He switches it on, to find something he would like to see. All over the channels he finds spiteful old Indian bahus and baas. He hates it. He makes a mental note of blowing up the Balaji studio.

The news channels are even more depressing and distressing. Continuous fabrication of useless but instigating news amazes him. News now has turned into a monkey show. One channel’s anchor stands in front of a monkey and says “ Kya aaj yeh monkey 12:00 baje kela khayega? Aisa hua toh Swami ke hisaab se duniya ka the end”. Its 11:30. He moves on to cartoon network. Just then he remembers the verdict of making television the domain of kids. On the basis of some moral debate by a College professor, who couldn’t mind her own business, the court had ordered to stop airing any A or PG content on Television. Yes, he thinks. Nowadays parents have turned into turds, only capable of stinking. Utterly enraged, he moves on to sports. He hopes he could kick the system in the groin with the same brutal force as Adriano kicks the ball. The spite is flowing in his veins. He watches football, as he reminisces the day he was insulted by the tamilians in Chennai. Yes, it was case of a few bad grapes, but they sure did leave a bad taste in his mouth. The sense of being a North Indian had never been so strong in him. Infact he had never even thought of being one. The virtual divide within his country made his mind boggle. Tamilians deplored Hindi, Mumbaikars were utterly nonchalant towards the rest of India., Bengalis burnt effigies of the cricketers of all the other zones, Nagaland never considered itself to be a part of India, Biharis and UP’ites were discriminated against in Maharashtra, Western culture was vandalized by so-called Hindutva-vaadi in Mumbai, zonal biases ruled the roost in Cricket as well as musical competitions. Tyler had had enough! He switched off the Television and put on some music. He loved Music. It elevated him into a heavenly abode. Just as the piece was reaching its crescendo, tyler remembered the unjust eliminations of a few of his favourite contenders in the singing competition he followed. Zonal bias again. Votes of the public. The public had rendered stalwarts of Indian music impotent. The thought of a Kasmiri guy, who did not even know “SA” , winning a popular contest made him want to puke. This was the n’th case of politics deprecating the sanctity of the musical world. What has happened to this world? It had only justified the suicides of the models in Mumbai recently. But he wasn’t that weak. He wanted to kill the system, rather than being killed by it. And then use the same system to get away with murder. Just like a few of the politician’s kids had got away with killing an innocent girl in a bar, in front of 110 people. He laughed at the verdict. Napunsak!!! How could so many people sleep at night after having witnessed a murder and then having the audacity of turning hostile? How could the police and the judicial system let the case drag on for 7 years and then exonerate the accused? What was the world coming to? His mood is aptly conveyed in the song that plays in the background “ABB TOH AADAT SI HAI MUJHKO, AISE JEENEY MAIN…”

He thinks of Iran. Wishes they would produce the Nuclear bomb soon and explode this world. He backs them completely. Who gives U.S. the right to meddle into the affairs of any other country? Screw the U.S. He looks out the window and watches a gardener digging up the fallow land. He laughs again. India raging. Indian bull galloping. India emerging as an economic powerhouse. He laughs. What a farce. What about the farmers? The agriculture sector which employs 70% of the nation? It continues to have miniscule improvements. At the grass root it still rots n stinks. Hypocrisy amuses him. It turns 12:05. He flips to the news channel, half hoping that the monkey would have eaten the banana and the prophecy would be fulfilled. The reporter is doing a jig. He says” Duniya bachch gayi!!” The monkey had apparently gone to sleep at 11:50 and had not eaten the forbidden fruit!! Back into the studio the presenter introduces an expert on the apocalypse!!! Hahahaha… Tyler rolls in laughter. He can’t stand it. He falls down and rolls. Just then his head hits the end of the table and he blanks out.
“Oye Vicky.. utth…”

I get up n dust my clothes. Its 1:30. Well, that’s that. I move onto my daily chores. Tyler has gone into a slumber. Kumbhakaran hai who, Jaagrut hua 6 mahine ke baad, khaayaa…so gaya…Life goes on…..If Only this Kumbhakaran wakes up for eternity……“ABB TOH AADAT SI HAI MUJHKO, AISE JEENEY MAIN…”

SUBAH SUBAH ---- DIMAAG KA DAHI……………

SUBAH SUBAH ---- DIMAAG KA DAHI……………


You know how you get up on the right side of your bed, are feeling wonderful, think its gonna be a damn beautiful day and suddenly, your big toe hits the edge of the bed and starts bleeding. You run to the tap, leaving a bloody trail behind, but there’s no water from the faucet; neither is there any in the buckets. You run to find some cotton, but “yeah” its over. So, you grab the morning paper and push the nail back into its place and staunch the blood. Not that, this makes the paper any bloodier than it already was, when it got outta the printing press! Well, This didn’t happen to me, but something at par.

Morning Morning Dimaag ka dahi….I read the head lines of TOI.
HC bans adult films on Cable. In effect, no film with a U/A or A certificate can be telecasted on television!! That means even a kiddie film like Harry potter, which has probably less violence than 5 minutes of WWF can’t be shown on the screen. That means 3/4th of the movies shown on HBO, Star Movies will be barred. Or even if it does reach our screens, it will be at the censor boards discretion. Scissors will run havoc. That does not mean that we have been treated to violence, brutal dialogues and porn on screen till today. It just means that now every thing on TV is just for Kids, nothing for the adults. I think Television makers in INDIA who make TVs with child-lock should be banned too. They are not required. In act they would infuriate the adults. It’s like mocking a starving, desolate man with a tandoori chicken-leg piece!!This situation is so sad. I mean I can’t imagine a word except SAD. And the people who passed this as SADISTS. I am beginning to wonder - if this is a democracy, god help people under other regimes. For today, I am being told what to watch and when. For today, parents are being given no benefit of doubt. Yeah, parents have no control on their kids, it seems. Isn’t it the prerogative of a parent to bring up his/her child in the way he/she seems fit. But now the supreme government has become the Parent and cares of each and every child. Parents should go to court and tell them to pay for their children’s schooling aswell! For today, I am being seen as a culpable child and am easily drawn towards mayhem, nudity, sex and smoking. As if the statutory warning on the cigarette packet was not enough, on-screen smoking will be banned from JAN 1. Blessed is this nation of Hypocrites and imbeciles. Tomorrow, your seniors will be banned from smoking because they are your idols and you look up to them. Tomorrow, you will be told to smoke in the bathroom and not in front of your child. There would be surprise raids and if you were seen violating this, you would have to dress like a joker and entertain every child in the neighborhood, for the next 13 months. Yes, tomorrow is so beautiful. You wont be allowed to roam around in your city with a girl. If caught, clutching the hand of a girl in public, you would be slapped LIVE on Television and be converted into Thakur of Sholay. Probably the girl would be termed as a prostitute and would be raped by a policeman, Live.This would be seen as a lesson for all those who dare show their affection in public. Girls would be told, what to wear and when. Because in this country every man is seen as a libidinous being, who only wants one thing when he sees a girl and every girl is seen as a Prostitute if she is bold enough to show her navel. Slowly but surely, we will become Pakistan. Where only religious channels and channels for and with children will exist and girls would have to wear burkhas. Guys will have to wear those things that Horses wear on streets, so that we look just in the front and don’t turn left, right and center to cast our lecherous eyes on burkha laden girls. Yes, tomorrow is beautiful in INDIA. A democracy that was……….

Dent-o-rama

Being my first Blog, I will play safe. You will find a 1000-rupee note in ur mailbox within 2 days of reading this blog verbatim!!! and as long as I am making insane claims, might as well deliver a Merc into ur courtyard within a week!!!



Travails :

About a month back I bought a SWIFT. That day, after I parked my car into my building, BMC officials decided to dig up the whole road in front of my building. It is amazing how BMC works with such amazing alacrity when you least require it. Whereas the petition, about a request to clear up the garbage from our vicinity remains unanswered for 4 months now. Thanks to Brihanmumbai Mismanaged Corp, I wasn’t able to drive the car for 15 days from the day of delivery. Meanwhile the children of our building used it as a board to draw a few pictures on the dust that had settled on it and few found scratching it amusing.

You know how U go out for the first drive and you are enjoying the power of the Power steering, the power windows and suddenly a cyclist conveniently compels you to test your power brakes and still manages to scrape the side of the car, giving the car its first dent. Well, that happened to me. My mom consoled me by saying that it was good Shagun “omen” and now the car had a black mark to prevent it from evils and omens!!! I wud rather have an invisible ghost sitting in my car!!!

The very next day BMC was at it again. They left an open Man-hole and while I tried to maneuver my car through the pile of garbage, the pile of stones of the dug –up road, the boulders subdividing one side of the road and the parked cars, my left tyre found the man-hole!!! Chaar kandhon ki zaroorat padi , in the very first month of my car, to get it outta that Hole. Good I didn’t have to take it to the mortuary.

The other day I parked my car in a mall and came back to find a dent on its right side. Left as a mark of friendship from the owner of the car who parked right beside me, I presume. His cars door must have gone insane seeing my car and would be so in love with it , that when the fat owner might have tried to get into the car, it might have taken the opportunity to bang n kiss my cars door.

Swiftly my car has acquired so many black marks that I hope I would have bought a black car instead of a silver one, becos in the end , its gonna be black anyways!!!

I would like to start a petition. This one will work probably becos we wont send it to the BMC!! We will send it to the legal authority of India. Oof… well think positively guys!!

The clauses.

1) The right of an owner of a new car, to be allowed to squash a cyclist, who inadvertently and conveniently comes in its way...

2) The right of an owner of a new car, to be allowed to personally spank the children who are naïve and devilish enough to take the car for a slate! OR if the parents are ready to beat them up instead!!

3) The right of an owner of a new car, to be allowed to smash up the car of a person who as much as kisses any part of the new car.

4) The right of all the members of a society, to be allowed to shit in the premises of the BMC headquarters if their petition to pick up the garbage in their locality falls on deaf ears.

5) The right of an owner of a new car, to be allowed to shoot at sight any contractor who has made pot-ridden roads.

6) The right to write a crappy blog and still be able to be appreciated!!! :P