Alok gets on my case : “Sir what are we doing today after the session. Lets go for a beer!” This is instantly backed by the chorus of agreeing voices. I smile and shrug my shoulders, not saying anything.
“Please sir, come on na! We’ve never had a beer together..”
“Alok, that Might be because I’m in charge of training you, and till that’s done, there’s no beer for either of us?? No?”
“But we must go out SOMEWHERE !! It’s been a hectic session” Argh… the way of the persistent.
“Fine. In Orbit it is. How about a movie? Check out the movie timings. We’ll go at 5.”
As luck has it, a Star has returned to the world, to save it from unspeakable evil in the form of a bald Kevin Spacey. That’s right amigo, Superman Returns! Oh Joy!!
All 17 of us saunter into the movie hall; I’m trying not to bounce with joy coz Superman’s come back after soooooo long! But I cannot bounce - I am their trainer, remember?! Images.. sigh..
The movie begins, the trademark lock of hair on the forehead brings back memories from wetting-the-bed-days; bliss!
Half way through a trainee on my left leans over and whispers, “A bomb blast happened”, to which another to my right side replies, “Superman ko bula na, he’ll save everyone!”. I laugh along with them. The things people do to de-stress after training programs. Ouch..
Half an hour later all our phones have messages saying, “Bomb blasts all over. Are you ok?” Realisation begins to sink in. This is suddenly turning out to be a not-so-fun outing. My trainees start freaking out, and I’m wondering what to do. All of them want to go home asap. The phone lines are all jammed by now. So no calling anyone. I convince them to stay in the hall till things settle down. It takes some serious people skills to make them stay. Fortunately, it works.
Two hours later, there is still commotion everywhere. Traffic is at a standstill. Trains are not operational. There is a red-alert in the city. Grizzly images of the ripped train compartments on the news. Hundreds of people missing parts of their bodies- people fortunate enough to have survived the seven blasts which took place within a few minutes of each other. And here we are sitting in a centrally air-conditioned mall, trying to find an excuse to be scared for our lives, behaving like we’ve survived something major.
Let me tell you just how major it gets. So the trains are obviously not running; or by this time, not exploding. Road traffic is fucked beyond repair. Option 3?? lets walk. So I whine and crib to myself, and set off at a brisk pace down linking road towards Andheri. Its roughly 8km from Malad. Takes about an hour. Oh bother! The tribulations of the corporate executive. Damn! I’m stressed out and in serious shock. I think this calls for a Single Malt.
I guess it’s bound to happen. How else does one feel that sense of belonging? One can’t possibly be left out of all conversation following an event like this without having his own two-bits to add, no? I have to assert my right as a citizen of Mumbai, in order to gain the attention I rightfully deserve : The awe-struck gaze of friends and family when I tell them that I was one of the ‘Survivors’ of this massacre of sorts. That furtive glance up to the heavens (which includes a short prayer thanking God for having saved my worthless behind) when I tell people that I was scheduled to be on a train at roughly the same time that the blasts took place. So maybe I was. That doesn’t amount to Anything. Fact of the matter is, I wasn’t on the train. I was chilling with my batch. I’m sure, in some perverse way, it would make my life a whole lot more meaningful and exciting if I was actually on the train, and had survived the blasts. There would be so many more questions to answer. So many people interested in hearing what I have to say. Maybe I’d be fortunate enough to feature on a cover story on the News. Maybe. Man, that would be the life, wouldn’t it? My face being viewed by tens of thousands of people. My expression - suitably sombre, perfect for a serious interview where I get to express my views on how people are just taking my city for granted and this time also, as so many times before, Mumbaikars will bounce back in a day and move on with their lives. I’d be telling them that this was it - the last straw.. There’s only so much that any city can take. First the ‘93 bombs, then the July 26th Floods, and now this. Enough. No more.
Yes, I could do justice to it, I think.
But that’s not happening right now. Doubt it ever will. For the simple reason that I have nothing to contribute as far as the blasts are concerned. I don’t even know anyone who was present on the trains at the time. Frankly, I don’t even care about it beyond the general concern for fellow humans, if that. What difference has it made to me? Oh, I know… I get to walk into office late tomorrow because the trains will be delayed due to excessive security checks. What joy.. I have something to discuss with my colleagues and friends in office for the next week, “So, what were you doing at the time?”. I also have so much to watch on the news - How did the explosions take place? Where all did they happen? Where were the bombs planted? Who is responsible? To eternity and back..
Welcome to the real world. This be our playground.
