shattered life

After almost forty-eight hours of being glued to the TV set and two dreamless nights, I finally stepped out of my door to resume back life as usual..
Usual? I’m not sure it was.. I was not normal and nor were the commuters in the train.. at 6 in the morning one could see the usual hustling, but something was amiss, it just didn't seem alright.. fortunately at six in the morning you don't really need to struggle to find yourself a place to sit..so finally when I did, very habitually I plugged in my ear plugs and tuned in to my mp3 to deflect myself from the surrounding chaos.. but switched it off at the very next instant..
there was chaos.. chaos in my head.. and in a very surreal way I could hear it in almost everyone.. hearts thumping, expressionless faces, grim moods, people chanting prayers, disturbed mindsets, complete commotion.. In some bizarre way, I smelt fear..
I shut my eyes in an attempt to introspect the hours and hours of horror and terror, anxiety and ambiguity that had gone by..
Vivid visuals from the live coverage flashed before me, sounds of bullets and grenades thundered near my ear drums.. felt like I had an overdose of those news channels after days of perpetually sucking onto them like a leech.. as implausible as this may sound, this was happening..
The pandemonium in my head had caused a mixed bag of emotions to run amok.. I felt infuriated at the lapse of our security intelligence, abhorrent for those remorseless fanatics, helplessness for those held hostages and their loved ones who were hoping against hope for their safety, poignant for those innocent lives who fell prey to those callous terrorists and a sense of overwhelming pride for all those NSGs, MARCOS, Black Cats, RPFs, the city police, the firemen, the media and not to forget the hotel staff who displayed commendable customer service putting duty before death..!!
I didn’t know what to feel, how to react.. everything just fell apart…like shattered pieces of glass.. and it was appalling cause one doesn't lose control of self that easily..
Its not that we have not witnessed terror attacks before.. I mean c’mon we had bombs exploding at theatres, markets, bustling streets, trains, bicycles, cars and even tiffin boxes and bins.. but this was different.. extreme in all respects.. forget a Mumbaikar, to a common Indian this was his/her worst nightmare come true – billions’ city of dreams, the country’s financial capital had come under siege..
And boy, we were not prepared.. had not seen this coming.. completely thrown off the cliff.. as Barkha Dutt said it almost looked like ‘being part of a bad Hollywood film’, except for the fact that this was real- the face of terror in blood and flesh, remorseless, loaded with ammunition, firing bullets, hurling grenades at innocent lives, hijacking heritage structures and engaging in a warfare with what audacity that perpetually went on for over fifty hours..
Watching this entire drama unfold, realizing that this was for real, in the heart of heart like everyone else I was hoping this to be unreal, untrue, a bad, bad dream that didn’t seem to end.. but as they say truth is stranger than fiction, reality bites and how.. this was war in Mumbai..


One knew for a fact that like everything else this too would end.. and there would be an outburst of questions on the collapse of our security services, intelligence agencies, politicization of the carnage.. but before all this could take its course it was essential to humanize this unprecedented attack..the attack that raped Mumbai of its resilience, paralyzed the nation at point blank and shed blood of hundreds of innocent people who were just at the wrong place at the wrong time.. and its simply outrageous to know that this could have been avoided had our damn leaders paid a little more attention to our basic security than securing themselves using our funded Z security.. horrendous to even accept that it takes such vicious acts of terror and slaughter to unnerve these authorities to take action and who yet seek political mileage and play dirty politics even in the hours of despair instead of taking up moral responsibility..

Its not that we won't resurrect.. we have no option but to get back on our feet.. but its time we don't go with the flow, but against it..whatever it takes..

They say that wounds heal with time, but if the wound runs deep it leaves behind a scar..

PS- I salute all those unsung heroes who sacrificed their lives.. they are the real NSGs- Numerous Saviors of God..



A darting fear—a pomp—a tear—
A waking on a morn
To find that what one waked for,
Inhales the different dawn.

Emily Dickinson

I am..

I may have penned this down,but its not about me only..Its about you..Its to girlpower..

A day, every day..

You aim, you claim,

You play the blame game..

You break, I mend.

You shatter, I gather.

You tear, I repair.

You beat, you cheat,

You repeat.

I am still on my feet..

You mess, you oppress,

You think you suppress.

But that’s where you go wrong,

What doesn’t kill me, only makes me strong..

With every high, with every low,

I row, I flow..

I sow, I grow..

Its high time you know, that I’ve learnt to let go..

I need no liquor,

I am high on vigour..

I need no dope,

I am high on hope..

I am no stone,

I am made of flesh and bone..

I am Earth,

The mother of your birth..

I am Water,

Your need, before and after..

I am Fire,

The sun, the moon, the dame you admire..

I am Air,

Here, there, everywhere..

I am the power you desire,

For whom you perspire..

I am your near and dear,

I am the tear you fear..

I am the one you love,the one you hate..

The one you call your soulmate..

I am the he in every she..

A part of you, a part of we..

Alone, I am not..

If that’s what u thought.

Its me, my voice, my shadow, my echo.

I am a human, I am a Woman.

And I am yet not done..

If

One of the most celebrated poems by the legendary Rudyard Kipling has helped many including me to keep my head on my shoulders and my feet firmly on the ground..So it was inevitable that I set the ball rolling with this marvel..


If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!