Mumbai Blasts! Mumbai Blasts!

In the past two days, all I have seen, heard of and read is Mumbai blasts. It all began with a somber feeling of shock. Then it turned into anger and hatred but none inspired me to post a blog. Finally, since yesterday I have had a few laughs and that inspired me to post a blog. First, Kolkata TV (My mom’s favorite) aired a long documentary on the lack of security in Kolkata. A bunch of shit-scared journalists scurried around the city’s posh-est areas with a basta full of explosives and a couple of battered, fourth hand mobile sets. They entered various electronic monitoring doors and parked their ambassador-taxis in the middle of the roads, all the while speaking into the mike of an accompanying cameraman, how they have been making a mockery of the cops and never been caught. Meanwhile, the surrounding shonar millions huffed and pushed their way past the crew, some of them spluttering their rage at the hurdles, into the same mikes!

Then, I received a great many messages telling me to think, ‘Why do blasts take place before elections?’ and, ‘How many blasts have taken place in the past five years?’, ‘What is greater- 50 years of work or 20 days of false prachaar?’ Think! They urged me, so I did. As I did, a feeling of disgust caught hold of me by the neck. Rushing downstairs to refresh myself with the latest news, I landed on pages and pages of articles telling of the body count rising, of Ashish Chaudhary’s grief at his sister’s death, of Amitabh Bacchan’s blog and Amir Khan’s view on the present circumstances. All of this news was interspersed with body counts and the plight of general Mumbai. On every other page there was a one page advertisement- ‘Zara yaad karo qurbaani’ with a snuffed out diya image in black background. ‘Aatank ko alvida kahiye. Vote for BJP.’

I switched on the TV. Various channels were airing talk shows. An extremist said, ‘The aam janta should come out on the streets and grab the aatankvaadis by the throat!’ He was countered by a more sober politician who said we should let the army solve it for us by declaring war on Pakistan. A staunch supporter of his own party said, ‘War happened in 67 as well. Kuch nahi badla.’ Suddenly, in front of my tired eyes it all turned into a political campaign! No one thought of the economy going down the drain, as a consequence; of lack of proper training for the cops; of the sheer idiocy of not learning from mistakes. I started missing our CM, who had she been present, would surely have reprimanded Mumbai for ‘being too adventurous.’ Changing channels, I was taken to more light hearted shows, doing surveys. A few of Delhi’s suave nightclub owners said, ‘We had huge plans, but these are not the times to celebrate. Tonight, we will only host simple dinning at our restaurant. The bar will remain closed.’

I switched off the TV. Folded and kept the newspaper away, and was seized by uncontrollable laughter. I am not writing this to provide answers- not for the reader and certainly not for myself. As I write, I can’t help but recall a couple of lines from one of my favorite poets- William Butler Yates- ‘I see my life go drifting like a river from change to change.’ That’s what I see for India. Changes are never smooth. Growth pain is a scientific truth; disdain is not needed, nor despair- just a little medicine to ease the pain and make the bones stronger. The times, they are a changing.