The night Mumbai spilled blood on its streets!! -Sibi Sathyan My life as a journalist has brought me face-to-face with some of the darkest sides of life. But there are certain moments in our lives that change the way we look at everything around us. I would like to share a memory that is as fresh in my mind as the blood on the streets that day. It was 2008. I was working with Times of India Group as a Principal Correspondent. It was an ordinary Wednesday evening. I was on my way to CST after meeting somebody at around 7.30pm. My friend and journalist Faisal Vythiri (Madhyamam Daily) was waiting for me at Press Club, as we were discussing a screen play. When I reached the club, I waited downstairs to make a phone call. About 10 minutes later, Faisal came down running and told me there was some shootout happening at CST. I was shocked, as I was there a few minutes ago and there was nothing unusual. We decided to go back to CST, the journalist’s nose for action overpowering the fear. Even in our wildest of all dreams, we hadn’t imagined that we were about to witness one of the most tragic incidents of our lives. We were about few hundred feet away from CST, when we heard gunshots. There was a policeman stopping people from going to the spot, but we went past him by showing the press ID. I saw my crime editor Abhijeet Sathe along with few policemen hiding behind the divider in the middle of the road just outside the station. I asked him what happened. “Terrorists… They are attacking Mumbai,” he screamed at the top of his voice. We didn’t realize the gravity of the situation first. One of the policemen asked us to sit down while taking his fire arm out and aiming from behind the divider. Hiding there, I was busy in calling a few of my friends and my cousin Saju Murali and telling them about what was happening, till my friend shook me to reality. I realized we were the only two people sitting behind the divider, as everyone else disappeared and we could see sparks (from gunshots) across the road. He wanted to rush to the other side of the road, but I stopped him because crossing a wide open road didn’t seem like a good idea. We could see some movement inside the station and suddenly there was a grenade blast followed by silence for a few seconds. We ran across the road and reached the subway entrance. By that time, the police was taking control of the situation and chasing people away. We ran to Azad Maidan. There were gunshots everywhere and nobody knew what was happening. We realized fear was growing within. Nirmal Menon, a colleague at Times and a close friend, called and told that there was firing at Leopold and Taj. Another one said it was at the Trident. I told them the information they got was wrong, as I was at the place of where the firing was happening. We all soon realized that all those news were true. I then called my wife Lakshmi, who was pregnant that time, and my parents, and told them about the attack and ensured them about my safety. I called up Ronnie Panicker (Now in Dubai) who was with Malayala Manorama. In a few seconds, I got a call from Manorama TV studio and I made the first announcement of that attack to the Malayalee audience, over the phone. Then called up Madhu (Amrita TV Delhi Bureau Chief – Now with Mathrubhumi) and informed him as well. I was live on phone for a few more channels while we were running. In next few minutes, Jerry Sebastian (Manorama), Vinay Dalvi, Nirmal Menon (Both Mumbai Mirror – Times) are also joined us at Azad Maidan and we decided to go to Bombay Hospital. It was a warzone. There were hundreds thronged at the gate, demanding to see their loved ones who were shot. Ambulances were bringing in the wounded, dead and alive, every couple of minutes. Suddenly some policemen’s gun misfired and everyone ran for cover. Using the opportunity, we jumped the wall and got into the hospital compound. There were gun shots all around. There was blood and death everywhere. Suddenly a shiver ran down my spine: “Will we live to see another day?” A doctor, with whom we already established contacts, ran out and told us “Hemant Karkare and Vijay Salaskar have been killed”. We were shocked beyond belief. We all lost hope. In some time, we saw an ambulance bringing the body of Ashok Kamte. His eyes were open and there was a bullet wound in his forehead. As the night grew darker, slowly the firing mellowed, and then there was nothing. We were still at the hospital, as more people were being brought in. At around 3 am, I got a call from Kanal Lal (Manorama Camera man) who was covering the attack from Taj. “Taj is burning!”, he screamed. “You will never get a chance to see it in your life,” (I never wanted to see that again!). We decided to walk from Bombay Hospital to Taj. Nirmal and Vinay decided to stay back. I asked a DCP whether it would be safe to walk. He replied in the negative. But we had to go. It was a night of death, blood and chaos. There was nobody on the streets except me, Faisal and Jerry. As we walked, five trucks carrying army personnel passed by. They were wielding machine guns. That night, nobody would blame them if they shot someone, and we all knew that. Soon, we saw fire engulfing one of the domes of Taj. We saw firemen saving people from the windows, using ladders. We were standing just below the main building, staring around, bewildered. One terrorist firing from any one of those windows would have killed us all. It was 6 am in the morning, when we walked back to a friend’s office to catch some sleep, only to see nightmares. Six years have passed. My life would have been an ordinary one if I hadn’t been there that night. A night that showed me how slim a line separates life from death. A night that taught me all the smiles can be wiped away in lesser time than the blink of an eye. A night that taught me that at the end, all that matters is how you lived your life, the joy you give and take, the memories you create in the minds of those around you, and the mark you leave behind. That night made me a different man, as I started seeing life in a different light. That night, I decided that life is more fruitful when you have no regrets at the time of death. And I still believe in it!
Posted on: Wed, 26 Nov 2014 08:12:18 +0000