Monday, August 4, 2008

Life goes on…

I was reading about the stampede in the Naina Devi temple, in Himachal Pradesh, which caused 145 lives. One of the devotees, namely Ram Prakash, said, "It's a question of faith. The tragedy does raise a question in your mind but faith is supreme. Life has to go on”. Life goes on…this is not the first time that I have heard this sentence being used after such tragic incidents. I have been hearing them for quite some time now. Being from Mumbai, this theory or philosophy has more or less been a part of my personality. Actually, it was made to be a part of my personality. There is a blast, don’t stop for a moment and think about it, start moving about, after all, life goes on. I am on stage and not feeling well, but I have to act, after all, life goes on. There is riot going on in Virar and I have a meeting in Andheri, I can’t get scared and stay at home, after all, life goes on. I had a heart-break, but I can’t moan it, come on yaar, it was just a crush, move on; after all, life goes on. Sister’s cancer, brother’s feud with parents, professional and personal insecurities, cutting through all these, life goes on.
But can we pause for a moment and think where exactly is it going on. If there was a rumor in the Naina Devi temple that there is a landslide, because of which so many died, who started these rumors and why? What happened to the victim’s family? Are they aware of their loss yet? What about those who were injured? Are they all right now? And what about the fear that must have been imbedded in the next set of devotees due the next day. Why can’t they take a day or two and realize the loss of others and their good fortune. Why do they want to be numb and move on when there is so much left to do in the past? Why don’t they help others and realize that a tragedy has occurred, and not just dismiss the dead as mere numbers. Why not moan for a while for the lives that were lost and families that were destroyed?
We always do this to ourselves and others. I remember that day when the serial train blast took place in Mumbai in 2006. Remember it like it was yesterday. Four trains left churchgate station that day, out of which three were blasted into oblivion. I was luckily in the fourth one, on which a bomb wasn't planted. Although, I was suppose to be in the one that was blasted first. I used to catch that train everyday for more or less two years then.
That day also I sat in the train, but was somehow unsure of continuing on it. I was hungry, but also wanted to reach my house on time and this being a fast train would have help me reach my place as fast as possible. I was undecided and almost ignored my stomach cramps and the seducing smell of the kathi roll from the nearby food junction.
However, my hunger won in the face of my willingness to sit comfortably in that first class compartment, and reach home quickly while catching a nap in between. I jumped from the moving train and went to buy my roll.
When I came back the train was obviously gone and there was one slow train for Borivali and one for Andheri. As I live in Goregaon, it was obvious that I should take a Borivali slow, otherwise I would have to change another train if I took the latter. But somehow, I landed up in that Andheri train, which I wasn’t suppose to catch and saw the Borivali one pass by, regretting my decision of not catching it and wondering why I didn’t? In fact I had half a mind of jumping from this train as well and catching the Borivali one. But something pulled me back and I didn’t. Wondering all the way up till Dadar what was it? That is when lights in my compartment went off and my train stopped with a sudden jerk. It was raining heavily outside and no one knew what was happening. Suddenly an SMS came to a lady sitting next to me, who informed us that a train has been blasted. We dismissed it as a rumor and sat tight in the train hoping it will start soon. It didn’t, and the rumors started getting wilder. It seems now there were three blasts. I got scared and started calling up my family and friends. I couldn’t get through and by then I was seriously panicking. I got out of the train and ran out of the Dadar station. I went under the pull right outside the station and went straight to a PCO. Now for people who haven’t been to Mumbai, Dadar station in one of the major connecting points of the city, and is always crowded no matter what time of the day you decide to go there.
But on that day, it seemed like half the population of Mumbai was there on the roads. It was jam packed and mostly with men. I must admit that seeing so many men together intimidated me a bit. I had no clue where all the women where, but at that point apart from a few here and there, I was the only one. I dashed towards a PCO and tried calling home again. By then, it was raining cats and dogs and I was completely wet ( I never carry an umbrella with me). I couldn’t get through as phones were jammed, which we came to know later. I asked a man standing there, what was happening who said he had no clue. No one knew what was happening and everyone was stranded on the road hoping that the trains will start soon.
However, I decided that I will take a taxi and go home. I beckoned a taxi who refused to go. Another one wasn’t interested either and his feelings were passed on to the next one. I was soaking wet and my books, which couldn’t fit in my bag, were falling out of my hands and were almost ripped apart. Finally a taxi guy took pity on me and saved me from getting desolved in the heavy rains. By then it was confirmed by our radio jockey’s that indeed trains were blasted, and many have died. That explained the dead phone lines and abandoned trains on the platforms. I was anxious to get back home and be with my parents. Blasts were always somebody else’s tragedy and were never a part of my life. But now, it had touched my life, allthough not in a big way, but it still had. I was concerned about my friends and didn’t know if they were safe or not. Suddenly two girls and one woman, who I vaguely remember as seeing on the same compartment as I was in, came in front of my window and pleaded me to take them in. I did and the four of us, who weren’t aware of each other’s existence till then, embarked upon a journey to safety.We didn’t talk much and were only concerned about getting to our respective houses fast, praying that all was well with the rest of the family as well.
We sat quietly, trying to get our mobiles work every now and then, got frustrated when they stubbornly refused to and cursed the mobile companies in return . Finally, I got through my place and the relief in my father’s voice was an indication of how worried he must be. The way my mother was giving me instruction of how to come home straight, without stopping anywhere, showed how nearly in tears she was just moment ago. Voice of my brother from behind enquiring about me, showed how he must have been trying my number every two minutes, praying that it will ring and I will pick up. I was just assuring them that I was ok, when the phone went dead again. But at least my parents knew I was alive.
One by one all the other occupants of the taxi left and I was the only one riding it. Suddenly, in Jogeshwari, a mob of men attacked my taxi and were trying to stop it. The taxi driver and I were scared to death, but didn’t have an option, but to stop. I wondered if a riot has broken out and wether these guys were fanatics who wanted to kill me. I am not a religious person, but at that moment, I think I would have flaunted my religion, in case those people belonged to the same community.
However, they were locals helping the many stranded on the road, by forcibly stopping the passing cars and taxis, and making them take the people who didn’t have a mode of transportation.
They were having an argument with the driver of my taxi to take a few with him, who was refusing stubbornly saying that I have girl sitting in my car and I won't allow any unknown man to come in. Finally, one guy realized I was sitting inside looking extremely pale and scared and he stopped the others from arguing. He got a really ageing man and told him to sit beside me. He then came to me and said, “Madame he is also going to Goregaon, please take him with you. We are sorry, but you know the trouble all of us are in and we have to stand by each other”.
I smiled at him and said it was no problem at all. I dropped that uncle at his place and went home. I reached my place at 10:30 that day and my parents have never been so happy to see me. I ate my food, called all my friends to make sure they were all right, and went to sleep.
Next day I realized, it was not an off and we were expected to go to our college. My dad was paranoid and refused to send me anywhere. He was abusing Deshmukh, who was talking about ‘Mumbai spirit’ and how ‘life goes on’ and how we should ‘move on’ and not let the terrorist think that they got us.
But the terrorist did get us. And I think I deserved some time to get over the fear of that evening. And many others who lost their loved ones needed time to moan their death and realize what has been done to them. But no, we were and are, not allowed to feel or think of what is happening. After all, life goes on…