It's been 13 years to this day
for the Mumbai train terror attack. Born and raised in Mumbai, it was evident
that Mumbai was always on the hit list of terrorists. I remember vividly the
details of the evening that took place on 11th July 2006. I had attended a job interview at Masina
Hospital, Byculla. On my way back home I took the cab from Byculla to Bombay
Central station. When I got to station, the indicator showed 'V' - Virar
fast local. I got in and secured a place near the door. The crowd started pouring in at Dadar station.
As soon as the train picked up
speed from Dadar station, there was a deafening sound, loud enough for us all
to realize that it was a bomb blast.
Soon the overhead electric sockets started bursting in the compartment
and there was smoke inside. It sounded like someone was shooting with a machine
gun. I was scared that the train was under attack. I could hear screams of panicked
women all around me. I covered my ears with my hands and ducked. There is never
one bomb blast in Mumbai and I was terrified that there were more bombs placed
in the train. I remember repeating to myself "I'm not going to die in this
train".
The train slowed down and came to
a halt. I asked the women in front of me
to jump. The parallel track was at a distance from us so we could jump safely
without the fear of being hit by another train. When most of us started walking
down the tracks towards the compartment where the blasts had taken place, I saw
several men - fellow passengers who sprung in action of rescuing the injured
and bringing out the bodies of those that were killed. They didn't fear going
inside the compartment that had blasted nor did they hesitate to touch the bodies
that were covered with blood. Rescuing life is an act of courage.
The train had halted in between
two stations - Dadar and Matunga. There was no way to get out of the tracks but
by climbing over a wall that separated houses and the railway tracks. We helped
each other to climb over the wall. For a while, I stood near one house as tears rolled down my eyes watching the
train and the injured people who were lying between the tracks. A woman in the
house asked me if anyone I knew was on that train, I replied "Naahi".
It was sad realizing that the loved ones
of some families wouldn't be going home that day.
Three other women who got off the
train with me decided to walk to the main road and travel together to our
destinations that were beyond Borivali. When we got to the bridge, we looked
down and saw the train one more time. We continued walking in silence and heard
from people who passed us by that the trains had stopped as there were more
blasts elsewhere. The phone lines were blocked and I couldn't call my family.
I'm thankful to the people who
helped us that day - the passengers who lifted us over the wall, the stranger
who gave us a lift in his car, the bus conductors who did not charge to take us
to our destination. That day I witnessed both - cruelty and compassion.
While the terrorist caused destruction, the people of Mumbai actively rescued and helped fellow humans.
I reached home at midnight. I
couldn't sleep that night as the images of what I had seen kept reappearing. I
was scared of closing my eyes and I was starving for sleep. The short naps that
I had got always ended with me waking up with a fright. The slightest sound in the kitchen gave me
shivers and reminded me of the loud sound of the blast. I stayed indoors for
some days as I was afraid of travelling by trains. I was trying to make sense
of the innocent lives lost in the attack. There was also a recurring thought in
my head "what if the bomb had blasted as the train entered Bombay Central
station, I wouldn't be alive".
One evening, my friend, Mugdha
Joshi rang me. She asked me if I wished to volunteer to meet families of people
who had died in the blast. She explained that the BMC and KEM hospital were
looking for counsellors and psychiatrist to meet the families of victims. I said "yes" because I wanted to do
something, anything to help. The role
was to assess PTSD symptoms in grief-stricken families and also offer
counselling. Mugdha and I travelled to the homes of the list of names given to
us. We couldn't meet all the families on the list because of incomplete
addresses. But we still managed to locate a few with the little data we had. I
overcame my fear of travelling in trains because the thought of reaching out to
distressed families was bigger than the fear.
I got to know the people who were
killed in the attack through the eyes of their family members. There was one
woman who took us around her apartment and showed us the renovation work her late husband
had done to make their home look aesthetic. She described him as a man of mild temperament
who deeply cared for her and ensured that she took her meds every day. The families were sorrowful but none expressed anger
towards the incident. They spoke with compassion for families in a similar
situation. They were uncertain but hopeful about the future. We met Hindu and
Muslim families who had lost their loved ones in the terror attack. We sat with
some without saying much and they were thankful that we had visited them.
Having witnessed riots, floods
and terror attacks, there are important lessons that growing up in Mumbai
teaches you. First, humans are capable of doing good and bad. But choosing to
be compassionate wins over choosing to be cruel. Second, courage is not about causing destruction
or killing innocent lives. Courage is acting in the face of fear to save and
rescue another soul. And most importantly, have a never-say-die spirit.
