Bombing the city

We were invited to a Christmas celebration today at one of our partner organization's place. The ambience was joyous and many people from many backgrounds had turned up for the event. There were gifts being shared with the employees and partners (including us at CRS and CBCI) and then there were games to keep everyone on their foot. They had one very interesting game amongst all those with a name that went something like “Bombing the city” – a slight diversion from our conventional Musical Chair. The place had been divided into quadrants and each of them were named as one of the four metros – “Bombay” ( I am not in the city so I believe Raj Thackeray’s men can’t hurt me just because I didn’t call it Mumbai), Kolkata, Delhi, and Chennai respectively. We were supposed to move around in circles when one person rang the bell like Santa and then we were supposed to stop at one of those quadrants when the bell stopped with a siren. Then, they would randomly pick a chit with a name of the city – whatever name it would have would get “Bombed”. So, all in that quadrant will be counted “Out” of the game. The last man standing would be the winner. Interesting, ain’t it? … and scary too.

What an interesting concept for a game?  It’s as if we have gradually learnt to find pun in the most horrifying of events. “Bomb blasts” have been so common in the last two decades that it seems we have learnt to live with it as if it were just another event that happens in our daily lives. The game here had people counted out of the game when bombed as if they had been killed during the bombing. Fun as it was to be a part of that game, I could not but help think to myself – how times have changed and how it does not bother us anymore – bombs, deaths and suffering.

It must have been around 4 o’clock in the evening of one of those wonderful Saturdays after a long stressful week in Delhi last year, I had stepped out of the house to visit Nehru Place to get myself a couple of 512 MB RAMs as my desktop had gotten a bit slow. I would have never remembered that day had it not been for the events that would follow. I am forgetful enough to forget what date today is but I still remember it was the 13^th of September. I had initially thought of calling up one of my friends and going to CP (Connaught Place). I could have visited the Planet M there and then walked through the Central Park to the other side and got myself one of those nice “Chococcinos” at CCD ( for the unitiated, that’s what we call Café Cofee Day – a retail coffee café chain in India). But then it crossed my mind that my desktop wasn’t running the way it should since quite a while and the weekend was my only chance to go to Nehru Place to grab those RAMs. By the time I was usually done with my office work it was always around 7:00 PM and that place closes down by that time.

By the time I got dressed up and caught an autorickshaw it was around 5:00. By the time I reached one of my usual stores in Nehru Place and bargained over the RAM, it was almost around 6:00. I made the payment and left for my apartment. I was alone so there was no point staying there. I reached home by 6:30 and immediately switched on the TV like I always did as a habit when I reach home to catch the evening news on CNN-IBN while changing into my casual wear. There was something that was being covered live – you can make that out from the way they were reporting it. I had moved to my bedroom to change my shirt but I walked back to my drawing room where the TV was placed to catch a glimpse of what was going on. When I saw what was playing, my mouth was left agape and I sat down on the chair for a minute. They were reporting a bomb blast in Ghaffar market that had happened at around 6:00 PM and then the news that just came in was that of two more at Connaught place – one at Barakhamba road and the other at Central Park between 6:30 and 6:35. And in minutes there were two more at GK-1. GK-1 was very close to Nehru Place. Five bombings in a span of just 15 – 20 minutes and they were saying Nehru Place could strategically and most probably be the next target. I was glued to the TV for the next hour and fortunately nothing happened. 15 minutes and 30 killed with more than 100 injured. It was surreal – I was just around a kilometre away from the place where the GK-1 blasts occurred just a few minutes back. They kept playing those footages of blood bathed men, women and children lying on the ground, carried on arms of other people, ambulances, police – it was absolute chaos and it was on every news channel - Images that could make the mightiest of hearts sore from watching all that pain and suffering.

That evening, I called Ma like I always did every other evening and she immediately asked where I was and if I was safe. I replied that I was home and safe. I didn’t share that I was not at home when it all happened and that I was just around a kilometre away from where the blasts occurred in GK-1. I knew she would be worried and she would also tell me about how I shouldn’t be outside in Delhi during the weekends – but aren’t weekends meant for going out and having some fun? Anyway, that’s a topic for discussion some other time.  

I was restless all night that day thinking what if ... What if I went to CP that day instead of Nehru Place as I had previously planned? Logically I would have been right at the point of bombings calculating this that it takes around 45 minutes to reach CP  and after a 15-20 mins in Planet M, I would have landed up at Central Park between 6:10 – 6:30. What if they had planted one in Nehru Place? GK-1 was not too far and Nehru Place is very well known and stays crowded during those hours with absolutely no police for security. Strategically, from a bomber’s point of view, it would have been a perfect place for attack but it didn’t happen. I was lying on my bed thinking all night – are the events in our lives predecided? Should I thank my stars that they didn’t bomb at Nehru Place or that I was reminded of those RAMs and changed my plans of visiting CP thus avoiding a fateful end to my predominantly uneventful (barring events like these) and useless life?

2008 was a year of Bomb Blasts – India had become a terrorist haven. It started with the Jaipur blasts in May followed by Bangalore, Ahmedabad, Delhi and ended with the now infamous 26/11 terrorist attacks in Mumbai. It was as if the complete security system of the country was asleep and there was a need for hard hitting events like these to shake them awake from their slumber. It’s not just the cops or the Border security force or the Government to blame, it’s us – the citizens of this country who are more to blame and so is the media. We crib, pout and grumble when we have to pass through security checks at the airports and malls, we complain when our celebrity is detained and has to go through a bit of frisking for security purposes and we are never alert of what’s going on around us. And to top all of that, we have grown callous to what happens when there are security breaches and bomb blasts and we have grown callous to all those pain and suffering. A year from the bombings, I was enjoying a game on Bombing – should I have found it offensive? No one else did and it was all for fun anyway but still …