Our 'lil Superstars…!

Had a disturbed night, the last one…my sonny had a 'lil fever and was restless too. Even as I lay there staring at the slow moving ceiling fan, visuals of a 12 year old boy hanging from the ceiling kept flashing in my mind. No, I hadn't seen 12 year old Sushant Patil of Sharadashram school, neither was I at the scene to report. But the image was still there…vividly clear. Blame it on the media if you wish, these images of a kid hanging, bullets, violence, murder et al are all around us each moment.


It's so easy for someone to point a finger at a current blockbuster and blame two main incidents of recent times as an aftermath influence from the movie! Most newspapers I'm going through in Mumbai have the story on the front page. It is more important and thought provoking 'coz Sushant is not the only case. 18 year old Bhajan Preetkaur an engineering student and believe it or not a 11 year old Neha Sawant in the suburb of Dombivili followed the same path. While securing more marks was the cause for the 18 year old, for 11 year old Neha, her parents not letting her participate in a dance show was reason enough.


My son's an year and two months old and I dread the societal times he is growing up in. There is so much competition all around. At work, in the society, at home among siblings and in the school or college. Professors (like in the popular movie I was refering to) badgering-in all the time that no one remembers who took the ‘second place’ in the race. Parents continuously upping the pressure to perform – CAN THE ‘LIL ONES TAKE IT?


Gone are the days when a 80 percentile on the report card was an excellent performance. A 90 today is scorned upon – Toppers meet the 97 – 98 even a 99 point something percentile and it’s this rat race to perform across diverse strata and environments that are leading to increased heart burns and quicker burnouts. Whether be it a young executive at the helm of his corporate career or be it our growing generation.


With working parents; kids today end up living their lives on their own, learning on their own and taking decisions too as they please. The modernistic society loves to term it “independence”. We take pride in our kids being able to do their things on their own and not depending on us as much. But being given the toys and gadgets that adults still strive to cope with, these ‘lil minds hardly possess the discerning ability to choose the right from the wrong – recognize the ‘peak’ of their desires from the ‘want’ that the society thrusts upon them.


I was very particular in starting a family soon after marriage and living with our parents, simply ‘coz of the value system it’ll help build in my growing son. My dad told me one day when I returned from work “I almost re-live all the time I lost with you; in the time I spend with my grandson”. It almost got me thinking – What a rat race of an existence we live. We make all the money, live all our dreams and buy all the property in the world to ensure we enjoy a certain respect/status in the society we live - our kids have an immaculate source of ancestral wealth he can depend upon - and our generations thrive. But what use if we’ve already lost our kids early in the ‘morals’ they’ve built for themselves?


My son gets restless around 6 pm each evening. He leads us to my parent’s bedroom and picks up the ‘lighter’ kept at a designated spot and points it at the lamp near the ‘praying area’. This toddler joins his hand in prayer and shows us the same.
I did not teach him this. But my mother (his grandmother) follows this routine with him every evening. I am busy at work everyday and so is my wife. But we have a backend – my parents – whose lives revolve around their grand child. They have all the time in the world to narrate stories to him – to sing songs for him and I was surprised the other day when I saw my otherwise strict and ‘straight-faced’ dad doing a few dance steps with him (I saved that moment on video!).


And this is the comfort that I hold in my mind when I’m at work – that my kid’s growing-up in safe hands. Living with parent’s maybe an irritant at times. There are times when we feel we lack the freedom or are frustrated at being curfewed-in. But there is also the joy in learning the tricks of the trade.


I probably got the maximum attention as a single child with both parents in the educational field (mom and me almost left for school and got back at the same time). I look back at the comfort that it has provided. When parents insisted on at least one meal together as a family – praying together – At least one vacation together (where there were no phone calls allowed). It creates a bond – a feeling of being wanted – a security that cannot be substituted. And most of all a TRUST deep within that when all hell breaks loose – when the world says you are a failure – you still have a ‘home’ to go back to where you still are the SUPER STAR! And that’s what we need to give our ‘lil Superstars”!

My city is Burning....So many Hearts Weeping..!

My city is burning….so many bleeding;

hearts weeping and I’m still flying..!

A fly on the wall…just watching;

Flying from one wall to another.

Unable to cry along; unable to share a shoulder.

A hand lent out is scanned for a boom mic;

They think I’m a foe…they think I love to see them cry.

And also think I lack a heart!

Always blamed for saying too much!

But, I was there too…

Scared as much as you were; yet determined to fly on

Dodging the same bullets that you did;

Breathing-in the same smoke you did

The pain was there, the emptiness too

I lost as much as you did too

My faith in so many things..

my leaders my guardian angels my neighbors too.

But I’m still flying on and forever will too

‘coz from one wall to another I hit glass too

And there I lay motionless; looking for help

Unable to even call out..!

But seeing me there you turn around

And find a path that hits no transparent harm

And as I get that breath back I fly on

To another wall from where I look on

And to see you safe and egging on

Simply drains away that swelling tear

Gives me the joy that drives me on

And I go on flying…from wall to wall..!

Mumbai city is burning. And this time it’s not the iconic man-made structures; but the hearts and minds of each Mumbaikar. It happened when not one of us expected. It hit us where it hurt most and it left a wound that’ll maybe someday heal. But I’[m sure is; the scar will remain forever though..!

Day-1

A call from my colleague Yogita Limaye at 10:00pm, there's been a shoot-out at Leopold cafe in colaba...could you find out more? Even as I try finding out, she texts me that she's in any case leaving for the spot with a camera unit; her hunch says it could be important.

Information already meanwhile trickling-in of more gun shots being reported; this time from the Mumbai ‘Chatrapati Shivaji Terminus’. Most television channels too getting into breaking news mode...this had to be major…!

And that's what put us all into an alert mode...each of us calling-in our sources even as 'assignment' alerted logistics, fleet....each of our video-journalists too starting to call-in and enquire if the situation was bad and they needed to come-in.

News started coming in even as I traveled to the spot; the possibility of a gang war between two Nigerian drug-mafia. But CST? How could the situation have reached CST?

10:20pm and we have confirmation from my colleague Toral Varia that it is not a gang-war but a full-on attack. More news trickling-in by the second. A blast at vile-parle? An attack at the airport? There seems to be some trouble at Oberoi Hotel. The air reverberating with sounds that seemed nothing other than fire crackers; at times maybe even a cracker-bomb.

CST road seemed blocked. There was a crowd rushing our way; also some commotion seemingly near CAMA hospital. I head towards the other side. Let me check GT hospital first. This place seemed to be operational for disaster a management long ago ‘coz they’d already setup people to prevent the media from entering. Any information from there seemed highly unlikely; we move towards METRO. Policemen lined-up all along the way; each of them with drawn pistols and ready-to-fire sten-guns. Most of them on their tether ends already. “Hands-up karo!’, came an order even as we approached them. One wrong move, someone would have definitely ‘pulled-it’.

At the Metro junction there seems to be a bunch of police and our scribes. Gun shots get wilder. We’re asked to move away and even as we walk 15 feet a police car pass us; we hear gun shots behind us and a huge commotion. And there we turn back to see two people fallen down. One hurt another dead already as we rush back. We realize this is now for real.

Hours turn into moments even as I and my video journalist Manish Dubey travel from one spot to another gathering info from passerby, the police were too wary to talk. The message that one of their vehicles have been hijacked had shaken them too.

The oberoi, Santacruz, mazgaon, vile parle , JW Mariott, Vidhan bhavan…news seemed to be trickling-in from everywhere. No one seemed to be knowing what and where and when and how. All that we collectively knew was times were bad. Each one was to fend for himself. T’wasn’t the time for jokes; the Taj was burning, the injured were being brought-into hospitals by the dozen.

Was this another serial blasts? Then what were armed gunmen doing in the open? Finally the Qualis with the armed men seemed to have been abandoned at Nariman point near the Vidhan bhavan and a Skoda car used to move further. A hot chase and there was one dead terrorist and another captured alive.

A huge explosion at Colaba. A petrol pump’s on fire already. Confirmations from two of my colleagues here Prachi and Raksha both having heard it. A simple hop skip and jump for here; Raksha shetty already in her bed sits up in bed and withing seconds is out on the streets escorted (for her own safety) by her husband karan.

This probably only the beginning even as each of us reporters set the meter down – there was no turning back – this was it –the real thing our city was being attacked and we were on adrenalin. The wails of the passing ambulances even as I moved from the Trident / Oberoi to Colaba. A few locals agree to take us to a building opposite the Nariman House. We recce the place but find it too risky to stay. We head back. We see forces reaching. Hardly any solid fire-power yet. It’s been an hour since the grenade explosion already.

Raksha stays on…and I move to the TAJ Mahal hotel. And lo, the sight almost sends a chill down my spine. I’m at the backside entrance and there’re the Anti-terrorism Squad personnel all with drawn guns and taking guard, lottsa ambulances and fire brigades…the most shocking…the sight of the burning hotel.

First the fire and then the huge amounts of salt-water will the structure’s beauty ever survive..? Well then the numbers spread – more than 50 people possibly dead already. Don’t actually recollect when the day1 turned into day-2 even as I scouted for someone who’d have some inputs. Chances of two people having scaled the pool-side gate late evening being the ‘trouble makers’. The first casuality aswel; a hotel guard and his guard-dog.

Day-2

Firing continued. The fires that had broken-up still continue to rage and almost took mid-early morning to be put out. Meanwhile it seems like a wait and watch between the security agencies aswel as the terrorists. News of the presence of RDX inside come through. In other places too the stand-off continue. The army’s trying it’s best to penetrate the defenses of the terrorist. Confirmation comes-in of the presence of more than 2 terrorists at each of these places. The presence of the army has created speed and emergency in the process but a big break though still needs to come by.

It definitely seems a tough road ahead even as the terrorists keep moving in and out of locations with ease. An inkling even to the fact that they are familiar to the topography of the hotel really well. Were they insiders at the hotel? Did they recce the place earlier? Only the security agencies will tell us this later.

Meanwhile a stray bullet ricochets on the pavement space in front of us and injures one bystander and two journalists; including a lady photographer. Things quickly come into perspective. The Hollywood movie that was unfolding in front of our eyes in this wide 360 degree canvas quickly turn a reality. Suddenly the enormity of the dangers standing there near the frontline seeps into the psyche of the reporters aswel as all the media personnel present there. Everyone quickly duck to the ground bracing themselves to the stone pavements of the gateway. That was a close shave indeed.

More fires, which we later will realize are being setup by the terrorists themselves most of it as a diversionary tactic and also to keep the security agencies busy. Even as the heritage building of the Taj slowly burn, we can’t help remembering the beauty of the priceless artifacts inside. The exquisite carpets, the antique furniture, the priceless painting, the enormous numbers of books in the rare library. This is a part of history these terrorists were destroying.

A connection meanwhile being established. Agencies pointing fingers at the LeT (the Lashkar-e-Toiba with it’s well known affiliation to the Al Qaeeda. Reinforcements being brought-in from the agencies. The NSG (National Security Group) steps in, one terrorist was already meanwhile arrested alive.

This drama was just getting bigger by the minute. What was supposedly a gang war in had converted into a high octane drama playing itself on live television throughout the world. The world was watching closely even as PRESS personnel from across the world descend on those rough-cut stone pavements of the Gateway of India. More fires even as hostages are rescued by the minute from all the three flash points – the Taj, the Oberoi aswel as the Nariman Building.

The drama at the Oberoi ends. Nariman building is still poised delicately even as conflicting reports come-in of the operation ending; even as fresh and unexpected gun fire begin allover again. Night fall brought with it a separate set of adrenalin rush. More gun shots each time reverberating from a different location. At times from the hack of the building, then towards the belly; sometimes from a top floor at times from somewhere close-by.

NSG commandos slowly were lining themselves near the periphery of the corner facing the Gateway of India. It seemed they’d cornered the terrorists somewhere on the first floor. The Wasabi Restaurant in all probabilities. Even as heavy firing and counter-firing continue through out the night we noticed a pattern of lights being flashed into the sea from the window at Wasabi. Was this some sort of a morse code? Did they have an accomplice outside? Questions that’ll hound me forever.

Day-3

More fire power from both sides all through early dawn. All of it followed by a series of explosions- grenades exploding in quick succession. A raging fire breaks out; this time at the Wasabi. Sad but the reality we realize is- the damage is extensive. The restaurant has been gutted down. The fire officials are then moved-in. Even as the NSG commandos storm the restaurant from the other side. ATS officials providing the back up along with the army.

Even as the fire slowly comes under control smoke quickly fills-in. Looks highly impossible for anyone to have survived the fire and smoke and all of sudden then a face outside one of those windows. A terrorist tries to lob a grenade at the officials standing down below – he is shot – and the body falls down onto the pavement. Then-on the security personnel bore a contented look, a sense of relief, some ven on their cell phones – one of them overheard saying “ho gaya, mein theek hoon” (It’s over, I’m fine).

Was this truly the end? Seemed like and a ‘lil while later we realize it is..! what a night it had been, one that would stay etched in my mind for time immemorial. The people, the place, each moment of it all. My city had been attacked by people I didn’t know. My city was also rescued by people I personally didn’t know. Even as I remained a mere spectator to the drama unfolding in front of my eyes there were sms’es that came in by the galore.

Of public anger and frustration. Some blasting politicians for playing the regionalistic card – even as your goons continued sleeping it was the jawans from ‘outside’ who saved the day (the message read; if put mildly). A general anger a raging frustration; this was happening time and again and those doing it wasn’t being sent a stern message. It is not OK..! a clear message have to be sent – a message strong enough to be a warning to anyone else who’d ever think of pulling-inn a stunt like this.

Even as I returned home my heart still stays there. Bodies were being taken out by the dozen. The stench of death hung strong through out the hotel. I was returning home safe and sound. But there were so many hearts in so many homes that was weeping. Entire families wiped out, mothers lost, fathers lost, children lost…and all of it without a warning.

I cannot put in words the sorrow, the disgust in my mind for the leaders who were to be our guardian angels. They’ve failed me time and again. Every time I thought they’d buckle-up they’ve fallen flat on their faces. It is far from frustrating; it is outright disgusting. And more so the pain ‘coz I know it’s my vote that brought them were they are.

I’m looking for leadership, someone who’d take charge. It’s so easy to put-ijn papers, resign and except the blame. Everyone’s still playing the vote game. Mumbai city has been plastered already with pictures of our brave police officers. Each political party vying with the other to share the grief. They don’t need your condolences. What they need is for you to make their sacrifice worthwhile. These families have given away their husbands, their sons and their fathers so that we stayed safe.

Plz don’t let their sacrifices go in vain. What can I do about it? Well, as a journo; someone would call it irresponsible. I don’t care..! really truly I don’t..! I am just not going to cast my vote this time…..Simply ‘coz I really don’t see anyone worth wasting this one on. You give me a leader and I will…!

I could have been me or anyone of us lying there dead. But it was someone else…With a silent prayer for all those who died for me. Our hearts reach out to those parents, wives, husbands and children….May the Almighty give you the strength. May God us the strength as a nation to stay united in grief and move as one with resilience. God Bless us all…!

Rain rain go away come again another day... Our BMC officials only want to play..!

"We are prepared" said Mr. Jairaj Pathak, when questioned about the BMC's monsoon preparedness; just last week. Little did we know that it meant the preparedness to channelize flood water when it did not rain, or when it is low tide.

Now, how can you blame the municipal corporation if the rain gods decided to pour without any formal warning? Ain't you supposed to know that first rains always block drains. In fact, shouldn't you be applauding the BMC on working 'smart' and saving on costs and waiting for the first rains to bring up all the garbage and muck to the surface and then deploying it's personnel to clear it? Open manholes? Didn't you know that it is the result of a deliberate and well thought-of disaster management 'programme' to ensure the flow of flood water is not restricted

Ok, pun apart, it's just the first week of the much awaited rains and 226 registered vehicle insurance claims (includes only registered ones and last updated on Monday, June 09, 2008), 43 uprooted trees (took the figure from an NGO; could be many more unrecorded ones),multiple cases of broken roads, flooded nallahs, crumbling walls and broken bones. The sad story of a pregnant lady denied medical help, the sad irony of the civic head office-flooding, suburban trains on the central side thrown out of gear (the western railway also experienced delays though they may not agree),and lakhs of rupees worth of (the now overtly precious & expensive) fuel burnt stuck in incessant traffic jams 'Mumbaikars' may probably be waking up to the stark reality of a jungle raj- "Eachone Fend for Yourself".

But thank God, Mumbai's different and so are mumbaikars. We can atleast be sure of a few things, even as you stay stuck in some God damn traffic somewhere on your way back from office; there'll be a kind soul offering you a packet of biscuit and some water for your parched throats. But for how long???? For how long should the Mumbaikar take it on themselves to be his brother's savior? If it's a bomb blast....everyone's quick to turn away from the administration's security flaw and applaud him on his/her bravery and thank him for his unified sense of security to head to work the very next day..hello..! We do it 'coz that's the only manner we can survive here...!

And if 26/7 was three years ago; what has really changed ever since? Well, not too many things except that it's Jairaj pathak instead of Johnny Joseph (the media's favorite whipping boy then!)on the helm of affairs. The BMC has managed to colour all it's dumpers in a nice army shade of olive green (blame my colour blindness if I've got the colour wrong), the media blitzkrieg on the "CLEAN UP" campaign, a bundle of expensive imported road cleaning machines (which insiders already claim are not suited for the dust and muck filled roads of Mumbai with multiple uneven surfaces) the lack of a political will in cleaning up the Mithi river yet. And when you the civic administration itself walks the 'pot hole' ridden path; can we blame the MMRDA, and the other agencies for not keeping up to their side of the promises and chipping- in to help you in making our lives slightly worse than hell?

Roads dug-up a month before monsoon - After 7 years of planning it's the month of May and towards June that the Metro rail project too found it's work catching pace. A part of the Eastern Express Highway caved-in on Saturday. How bad could it get than this? The latest tarring mechanism that promised to make driving as smooth as that on any European roads. Who are they kidding? Have you driven on the Eastern Express highway ever? It is the most effortless road to drive on past the chembur turn simply by virtue of the limited vehicles on it when compared to it's counterpart on the western suburb. Leave that; and the multiple bumps and unevenness could give the strongest spine an ache when you reach a destination as far as Mulund or Thane (Mulund is where I EXIT). And now, come the first showers and viola..! 80 vehicle crashes on a single day...and each one of these - Reported ones. Try driving on this stretch. Thanks to the latest smoothening, try applying your vehicle brakes and you'd manage to swirl your car a few times and finally stop if you are lucky enough; without hitting another passing vehicle.

Can they at some point stop mimicking something they learn from the west or applying a process that some contractor thrusts on them for their own good? True, it's fast, it's quick to apply and lasts long. But what after that? I'm only talking about four wheelers here. It's even worse if you are riding a 'two-wheeler.'

Not fair to be saying this as a journalist but can't resist what my taxi driver told me, "Saab sabb chor hain; abhi kaam chalu karenge, saste material use karke, sabb baarishe mein beh jaayega or phir dubara chaluu karenge or government khaate se auur paise lenge" (Each one of them is a thief. They start work now with cheaper material knowing really well that the rains will wash them all away and then will re-start work all over again post monsoons and claim for both the expenses from the Government coffers). The Taxi driver, poor chap, didn't even know I was a journalist (thank God, 'coz just after that he hit us 'the media' too below the belt, thanks to our own antics)and so kept blabbering on. You think, otherwise he'd have said all this? But who then will BELL the CAT? You really think anyone would take the media (who thinks Amitabh bacchan getting a cold is BREAKING NEWS) seriously..? Or the political class? Or the suddenly sprung up hoards of RTI activists who I fear are all slowly missing out on their real purpose and surfing for the closest 'boom mic'?

Ok, this part of the road was done by another department. That flyover falls under the MMRDA, that nullah needs to be cleaned by the T-ward office, that road digging's done for Mahanagar Gas, or those paver blocks were disturbed 'coz the 'surface' had to be 're-surfaced'..!! CAN WE FINALLY HAVE ENOUGH???

Dear Sirs, we do not care about who needs to do what or what equipment you apply to accomplish these tasks. We care less about your officers planning to travel abroad to learn more about 'bench styles' to be laid around our city and also, have no qualms of the innumerable number of 'Scorpios' (cars) you bought for the disaster management programme that ferry each one of you in air conditioned comfort each day to and fro and around work. But what I do care for is my city. And as much as you keep bombarding me with messages on my responsibility to keep it clean and not litter the place and not spit around the place and throw garbage here and there and plant more and more trees. I think, it's only fair on me to ask you to please look at your own responsibilities in a more 'RESPONSIBLE' manner for a change. I know, it's a race to fill your pockets before the next elections or appointment . No one knows who'll hold what responsibility next year, But please sirs, when you look at that mirror to comb your hair each morning. Please, please and mighty please....Take a good look at yourself and ask yourself this," Am I being FAIR to myself? Will I do this if it was for my child? Am I doing my Best?"

And this, I request you not as a journalist; but as a Mumbaikar 'coz this city's mine even more than what it is your's. And the truth is we Mumbaikars are brave, we'll give-in our 110% to help our fellow beings in distress. But the truth is we are powerless. We have our own worries, our own roofs to save and our own parking place battles to fight. So, can't move a nail without your help. And that is all that we plead of you. We'll keep crying in vain. Wait for each rain to hit us so that we can complain. So, PLZ WAKE UP..!!