I am a nameless individual in the still so lovely Bombay. As I lie here, there are somethoughts that I wish to share about that eventful day. 26-11. I am a survivor of terror attacks. And this is my story.
It was just another day. I walked inside CST station for my usual round up. As I walked in I heard a loud noise.... "Thudddd". Suddenly I could see people storm out of the station frantically. The noise was so loud; it scared off the dogs out too. I could see some stray dogs running out of station with their tails ducked between their hind limbs. As I peeped inside the station, I could a man firing indiscriminately at innocent people. It was a dreadful sight.
Suddenly, I could hear an announcement made by my friend Zende. The terrorists couldn't make out from where the announcements were made. But they did fire bullets and Zende hid behind a mask. People were warned not to take the front entrance as there were terrorists there.
I was at the front entrance and I was scared. But how could I just stand there without doing anything. These were my people who were shot. This is my station. This is my street and This is my Bombay. I couldn't stand there doing nothing, even if there were many who did nothing. Some officials fled the scene, some stood there behind whatever wall they could find and gave the terrorist a fight. I walked in the station with fear in my heart and fire in my belly. I went straight to terrorist Qasab (yah yah the same guy you watched in the News). I looked at him Eye-To-Eye and hollered at him. I gave my vengeance a vent. Foolish I was people might feel for standing there next to him, it was like committing suicide. And it was. He lifted his rifle and shot me. I collapsed. I lied in a pool of in enormous pain. I was dying in my station which turned a battle field. I tried saving. I stood in front of the bullet. I tried saving my people. I did try. But I failed. I failed miserably. I was drenched in blood and all the blood was not mine. All was red. It was difficult to say, which blood stain was whose.
I waited for death to bless me off this pain. But, I was destined to live I guess. After the terrorists fled the scene. People, living and dead, in horrendous blood bath were rescued and ushered in to different hospitals. I was taken by a good Samaritan to a hospital in Parel. I am at the ICU fighting for life.
I should be free soon, I have a fighting spirit and I want to live. I will go back to my station again. I will stay put there and be on guard and again scream at any suspicios person who dares to shake my Bombay and her people. I love Bombay.
But I also know, that I might be killed by my own Bombay for trying to save them. You know, if I spot someone looks suspicious and I scream. And if he turns out to be just an ordinary guy and complains to the authorities. This mistake could cost me my life. I will be dragged by the BMC and killed.
I just wanted to tell you Bombay, still. Whatever the end result be, I will try to save my Bombay and her people, or will die trying.
Sheru is recuperating in the animal hospital.
Kudos BMC, you should kill NUISANCE stray dogs. And thanks Bombay for supporting this by being silent this time and not speaking for the speechless Sheru and his ilk. Let the dogs die. We will put all our energies in killing them, but not 50% of the time, money or energy in sterilization programmes which have been a super success all across the world. Killing is easier.
KILLING OF STRAYS IS SHAMEFUL. SHAME BOMBAY. SHAME ON YOU.
I recollect that I did receive a call (via Mumbai Terror Helpline) by some kind soul who asked me for the number of NGOs for stray dogs and narrated the story of a stray dog screaming at the terrorist until he was shot by the rascal. I donot remember who the kind soul was and I have not stored the number. If you are the person. Please call me, id love to meet you.