There was something different about the day. It started off with conversation and no sleep, with an ‘enigmatic connection’. It was to be a day of records, with one getting created right as the day started. A long while later, when I often wake up to get ready for work, I decided to go to sleep instead. Groggy and sleep-deprived, I had decided to stay at home and catch up on much needed mid-week rest during the day.
As the day gave way to dusk, we decided on a plan for the evening. Shiro was my place of choice, but she just wouldn't acknowledge the existence of a world outside South-Bombay. And there it was, the decision made. Bootleggers in Colaba.
Not quite familiar with the name, I Just-Dialled it up and found out that the address was somewhat familiar. 4 Pasta Lane, it said. Cabbing it from Churchgate, I reached there exactly at 1945, as promised. And she was late, as I’d presupposed. My mood was dampened by the half-hour wait outside. As I walked aimlessly outside the place, smoking away, I noticed that the street housed some apartment blocks, prominent of which was one that was called Nariman House, which I came to know of, a while later.
It was a rebranding exercise that had left this place, earlier known as “Hawaiian Shack”, rechristened as something a little more unique, considering that it was obviously overshadowed by its namesake at Bandra. After a few complimentary Bailey’s shots and a couple of rounds of wine, the colleague and friend that accompanied us were ready to leave.
We mulled the idea of heading to another place after dinner, with the Hilton on top of my list. Bootleggers had proved to be a damp squib, and even the promised Karaoke hadn’t happened.
As we paid the bill and left, there was a sudden loud blast that took us by surprise outside, as she let out a loud shriek. Laughter ensued, as we just discarded the sound as firecrackers, attributing it to the weddings season. And then another went off. And a barrage of what seemed like smaller firecrackers in quick succession. As a crowd gathered 10 meters away, we were not quite sure of what was going on. Something was amiss. People were running helter-skelter and motioning for others to move away. We just stood at the sidewalk, as I suddenly became aware that the road was completely devoid of any vehicles. People were gathering around from everywhere, and this was obviously not a safe place for any women, as the JW incident just flashed by my mind.
I took out my cellphone camera to capture the scenes, but was soon stopped by people around. “Damn it”, I remarked aloud as I reasoned to them that these are not really everyday occurrences. We briskly walked up to an eatery up the road, called Theobroma. We’d hardly ordered our brownies and cheese cakes, when we started getting calls from people informing us that there’s been some firing at Leopold’s. In hindsight, moving up Causeway to within 50 meters of Leopold’s now seemed like a terrible decision. And there was suddenly a lot of commotion outside as we heard what was unmistakeably, an automatic weapon going off!
The shutters were downed from the outside by the security guard and we decided to stay indoors till we received further information. The next hour or so went in answering calls from loved ones and explaining to them that we were indeed safe. The staff at the diner led us out thru the back exit which led to a Parsee housing society. Now cognizant of the fact that the entire city was rocked by blasts, firing and other nefarious activity, we decided to stick around as no cabs could be traced. Only the occasional police patrol. Some concerned residents brought us water and biscuits as we sat at the stone slabs around a park and waited. We heard rumours that the terrorists were hurling grenades into housing colonies as well, and nobody dared question. Going back home would not be an option tonight, we’d known.
After a while spent sitting around on benches in the plush neighbourhood, we proceeded to one of my colleagues’ distant acquaintance’s apartment. The biggest explosion till then suddenly sent shock-waves ripping throughout; as we heard the Taj’s dome blast from what was easily a half-kilometer away. The lights of every window at the housing colony went on, one after another after another, as people were rudely awakened from their sleep.
An eventful day and night ended with no sleep again as we stayed up another night.
It was a day like no other, a date that will reside in my memory for the rest of my life, as it was more exciting and one-of-a-kind than any I could ever plan. It brought me the knowledge that there are many that care enough to find out if I’m safe even if it is in the middle of the night, and also the unflattering knowledge that there are some that I’d considered dear that don’t even call, perhaps representative of their indifference to whether I live or die…
Everyone talks about the pain and devastation that chaos brings with it… However, it brings with it something else as well, however short-lived it may be. It brings in us a sense of respect for our lives and those of others around us. It makes us count each second more dearly than we ever did. It makes us go one step further, to talk to those that are precious to us and tell them that we love them one more time, hoping that it isn’t the last. It makes us stand up for what we believe in. It makes us want to hold those loved ones for one last time, not wanting to let go. It brings us closer, for we are more aware that life is shorter than we’d like to think. And it makes us want to do more with our insignificant little lives…
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