28th Nov

The US offices are closed for Thanksgiving, hence not many mails. The presentation can wait. There is some attendance at work - maybe 30%? The canteen is on and I have already got my morning cuppa and idli. I was bewildered yesterday, and when I left work, a little sad. Today I am writhing in anger. And I want to spew venom here on this blog. Its an impotent attempt at doing something. The news coverage is annoying the hell out of me - everybody seems to be speaking loudly and with no coherence. I don't feel comforted. The PM said something in a weak, whiny voice that set my blood boiling. So I won't get into that.

I got an auto to come here and there are buses plying as well. When I entered, there were armed policemen in the van in front of the SEEPZ gate today. They looked just as lazy and unkempt as always. Who would trust them to save their lives? I won't. I would run; or maybe in a mad, blind run, choose to attack those who wish to harm me. I would be dead in the most likely scenario.

Back to the screen - there is smoke billowing out of the front of Taj now - must be some botched attempt at rescue, or maybe the chaps inside are lighting all the furnishings? I remember going up to the top-floor suite once to visit a rich American cousin. The room was tiny, the roof was low, the bed was huge, the doors were narrow, the bathroom was shiny but without any character. I remember the curtains were thick and ugly and had three layers. The upholstery everywhere was soft. So it must be an arsonist's delight, this Taj.

The three police honchos who died yesterday - I can see repeat pictures of them and can't help wondering - why the heck did three top guys need to go in the same jeep? I'm familiar with Karkare's name, and the little bit of the Malegaon thing; he seemed to be a smart guy, with his wits about him. I bet his last thoughts must have been, 'fuck, what a chutiya I am to die like this!' And did you look at his helmet? And his tiny, frayed flak-jacket? In fact, even as I write I can see more policemen in front of the Taj barricades; none are in flak-jackets, and two are bare-headed. Why do we have jokers to protect us? We in India are not that poor, surely?

More news pouring in - all are condemning the attack, rah rah, and we have a grim faced Pranab saying something that seems to be in English. But then I am illiterate in that version of the lingo. I am not interested in his bakwas. I'm curious at this stage to know what happened to the hundreds who were caught at CST. No update yet on that. Perhaps the crowd that was caught in the crossfire was not as glamorous as this crowd. Or maybe the killing ended too soon and there is nothing else to report from the 'scene'.

Its lunch. I'm hungry.

27th Nov

I am at work right now. I have logged on to the online IBN CNN news channel - the volume has been tuned down, and I keep checking on what's being shown every few minutes. I'm not really interested in finishing the presentation slide that I started yesterday. I don't care if the deadline is tonight. I'm caught in the scenes of unfolding terror, I can hear random bullets being fired and an occasional bang, maybe of a grenade? Is this Mumbai, my Mumbai, or is this West Bank, or Fallujah, or Chechnya, or Karanchi?

I stepped out a while back - and all is as usual here in Andheri East. A couple of police vans on the door, and maybe a lesser traffic, one can't be sure. The vada - pav guys is doing brisk business, the paal-wala has a line of three people, the new-vendor's stall is missing, but the nariyal-pani stall has a person eating the 'malaai'. I can see a small jam ahead of me near the Rolta building and there are idle pedestrians all over. No one seems to be in any hurry or in any concern of what is happening in deep south of the city. I don't feel any urgency either - it might be happening in another country, anywhere. This is puzzling.

I am back in my cabin, the news is just as before - more shots, more smoke, more screeching news from frenzied reporters. It seems I have entered a dark, mad world again. I am glued. The fear is returning, I can feel the heartbeat thumping against the rib-cage. I abandon all pretence of work.

It seems there is a gun-fight now at Nariman House as well. However on the screen I can see two stray dogs in front of the house and hardly any NSG guys - in fact none; just some slovenly policemen and a bearded gent in white. It seems there won't be any more cricket either. Once England wakes up we'll know for certain. Anyway it was a 5-0 bluewash. I am hungry and need sustenance.

Every now and then I can see the first pictures of the terrorists - a chap in a blue duffel bag, short and stocky carrying an automatic in his right hand, face with one streak of what seems blood. The picture has done something to the eyes - they seem to be glowing - like the obsessed girl in Exorcist. I feel uncomfortable looking at the picture. The platform is empty - they have killed everybody on it? The air conditioning is making me shiver. I want to go home now.