Mumbai train terror attack

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.