'I feel guilty to have escaped'

Bombay was the city I was born in. It became Mumbai in 1997. It is one of the most versatile and vibrant cities in the world where change is a constant. I feel everyone should visit it once in their lifetime.

On November 26 last year, this city changed completely right in front of my eyes. It changed from being just my favorite city to my dear home. Every Mumbaiite changed from being just another inhabitant to being a part of a big family. I realised just how much I love Mumbai.

On that fateful day, this home of mine was held to ransom by a group of terrorists. I was 15 then, having dinner with my mother and cousin brother at the Wasabi, the Japanese restaurant at Taj Mahal Hotel, when we suddenly heard a loud bang. It sounded like a firecracker, yet strangely unfamiliar. Fright embraced the atmosphere. People panicked, ran helter skelter. It was the most confusing 45 minutes of my life. People were calling and enquiring, “Are you safe?” What could I answer?

Moments later there was another explosion, which was the loudest of the six I had heard that night. On hearing it, I was resigned to thinking that we may not be able to escape. I felt a searing pain in my throat when speaking to my brother, who was in New York, not knowing whether I’ll ever speak to him after this.

But we did escape. We were rescued within six hours of the attack. But my heart aches for those who were not as fortunate. A bus took us from the Taj Mahal to President… where I remember speaking to my father who was in Kolkata. While I wanted so much to see him, I did not want him to come to Mumbai…it was too dangerous.

I truly believe that every person on this earth is born good. So I cannot imagine how much hatred has to be filled in one to kill people and not even flinch on doing so. A person has to believe that there is no goodness left in him or the world to kill innocent people. But how can someone become like this? How can terrorism die? Doesn’t the motive behind the act have to die? Doesn’t the terrorist in the person have to die rather than just the person? 

I still don’t know how to react to the events of 26/11… people don’t talk about it when I’m around. I feel guilty when someone says that I’m so lucky to have escaped.
Why do people ask me whether I have gone back to the Taj Mahal hotel or not? If I don’t go back there then I let the terrorist win because he managed to instil fear in me... fear of my own home... fear of living my life the way I want to.

What happened to me is not even half as bad as what happened to thousands of others. Probably this is why I carry a sort of guilt. I can’t remember those five minutes in which we were evacuated, but I can never forget the fear I felt.  I remember holding my mother’s hand and running when I heard that noise and my cousin towing me to the bus. I also recall the minute I realised we had escaped. It was my uncle who fetched us from Hotel President. On our way home, the police stopped our car. My uncle lowered his window and said to the commando, “Thank you, we got our children back.” It was that moment when it hit me that we had just escaped. I imagined everyone else had escaped too. The gravity of the situation had not occurred to me until then.