O n that fateful night, I was on duty at Re-Fresh fruit restaurant located on the first floor of VT station. I was sitting near the glass pane overlooking the station lobby, and chatting with a customer. All of a sudden I felt something whiz over my head and a powdery substance fell over my face. Then I saw sparks reflected on the glass pane. I got up and looked below, at the passenger lobby.I saw people running helter-skelter.
I spotted two men holding a machine gun, firing at people. As I was looking down, a bullet pierced the glass pane. I ducked and lay down on the floor. Spontaneously, everyone in the restaurant too fell flat on the floor. I told one of my hotel staff to switch off the lights. I wanted to run to the safety of the kitchen, but was afraid that if I stood up, I’d be exposed as our restaurant was visible across the brightly-lit terminus.
As I lay on the floor, I could see what was taking place in the lobby below. After one round of firing, the two assailants were re-loading their guns. Then they again started firing indiscriminately. There was a big explosion, and the ground beneath us shook. I was terrified, but there was little I could do except to lie down quietly. I could see people getting hit by bullets and collapsing, people running to all corners of the terminus.
After some time, the two gunmen disappeared from sight. They walked away, I think, towards the platform. Now I heard firing coming from a distance. Then it stopped completely. The whole thing must have lasted 10 to 12 minutes. After some time, some of us ventured to get up. Though I was still afraid, I was relieved that it was over.
I can never forget what I saw when I came out of the restaurant. In front of me were strewn at least 70 to 80 bodies. I joined the police and railway staff in helping the injured outside the station, to waiting ambulances.
I heard from the police that other places in Mumbai were also under attack by terrorists. I felt I was still not safe, and decided to go home. I walked all the way to Colaba to reach my residence. My wife and children were relieved to see me.
The day after, when I turned up at the restaurant, I saw the walls and glass panes sprayed with bullet holes. Our restaurant had been opened only on October 1, and it was already in shambles.
The next couple of days I could not eat or sleep properly. The gunshots kept ringing in my ears, my mind kept playing back gory scenes of blood and the bodies. I feel lucky to be alive. Just minutes before the firing began, I was down in the terminus lobby, talking to my cousin. Had I lingered there a few minutes longer, I wouldn’t be talking to you today.
(As told to Rajen Nair)
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