I’ve been a Colaba resident for 25 years. My flat faces Nariman House. On that night, we had just finished dinner and were relaxing at home, when I heard explosions outside. My nephew Harish Gohil had gone to a neighbour’s place to watch the India-England cricket match on TV. I thought the sounds were just the boys celebrating by bursting crackers because India had won. My daughter Reena, who was studying for an exam, said it did not sound like fire-crackers. Out of curiosity, Reena and I stepped out of the house to find out. Now the sound was much louder. Reena said it sounded like gunshots.
We met Harish outside our house and he said he was going down the street. My husband owns a tailoring shop nearby. I thought Harish was going to the shop to warn the people there. Meanwhile, all our family members huddled inside the house for safety. After some time, my husband came in, looking very upset. He said Harish was lying in the middle of the street, just outside our building.He took me aside, out of earshot of Harish’s mother, and told me that he suspected Harish had taken a bullet. We both went down to the entrance of our building. From there I saw Harish lying in the street in a pool of blood.
We couldn’t immediately rush to him as bullets were flying all over the place. I kept yelling at Harish to get up and come inside the building. But he lay motionless. We couldn’t leave him lying injured on the street. My husband, risking his life, ran towards Harish and dragged him back into the building. Harish had been shot in the chest, probably by one of the terrorists holed up in Nariman house.
Meanwhile, other family members joined us downstairs. Harish’s mother took her son on her lap. She was shaking his body and wailing, “Open your eyes, open your eyes!” We were all shell-shocked. My husband got in touch with a couple of neighbours on his mobile and told them Harish had to be rushed to the hospital.
Outside, the street was empty, but we could hear gunshots non-stop. All our neighbours had shut their doors and windows. Harish was bleeding profusely and somehow had to be taken to hospital. Finally my husband went out, braving the bullets, to get a cab. After half an hour, he returned with a taxi. We lifted Harish into the cab and told the driver to take us to the nearest hospital. I didn’t want to leave my husband alone, so I accompanied him. The streets were silent except for the sirens of the police jeeps. I was sitting in the backseat, with Harish’s head on my lap. By the time we reached St George hospital, I was soaked in blood.
At the hospital, I saw many people lying on the floor with gunshot wounds. Some of them were dead. One of the doctors checked on Harish, and immediately pronounced him dead. We couldn’t believe him. I kept pleading with him to treat Harish. Finally I lost control and began shrieking at the doctor. My husband tried to pacify me. We decided to shift Harish to a private hospital.
Then another doctor came and once again checked Harish. He told us there was no point taking him to a private hospital as Harish was dead. It was about 3 in the morning, and all around us in the hospital, were injured and dead people.
At daybreak, we decided to return to our house as other members would be worried and anxious to know about Harish. But when we neared our neighbourhood, we found the whole area cordoned off. We were not allowed to get back to our house. After much pleading, the police allowed us to reach our house through a back entry.
Back home, we didn’t break the news of Harish’s death to his mother as she was in no position to take the news. We lied to her, saying Harish was being treated at the hospital. The next two days were agonising. We hardly ate anything, as there was little food left at home. We could not sleep as we were bombarded by the sounds of firing and explosions. Harish’s demise was a shock but I had to hide my suffering from his mother.
On the evening of November 27, when the commando operation in Nariman House was finally over, we were able to go out of the house to buy provisions. The next day we brought Harish’s body from the hospital mortuary. On seeing it, his mother collapsed. We performed the last rites the same evening.
The following days were painful for all of us. Ours used to be a house bubbling with laughter and happiness; overnight it became one of silence and mourning. We still find it hard to believe that our Harish is no more.
Though we received compensation in time from the government, the money cannot replace our loss. A year is going to pass, but very little has changed for all of us. His memory still brings tears to our eyes. The coming November 26will be the most difficult for all our family members as we have to carry out Harish’s kriya karm and relive the horror of that day.
(As told to Rajen Nair)
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