If there is paradise on earth....IT IS HERE....

I've had enough! I don't want to hear any more of the attacks on Mumbai. I don't want to hear how it was one of the worst terrorist assaults. I don't want to know how it is "India's 9/11" or how my hep countrymen might address it as "11/26" soon. We don't even follow the "mm/dd" way in our regular speech but what the heck, it's American! I don't want to know how heroic the NSG, MARCO, firemen or cops were. I don't want to hear survivor tales. I DON'T!!!

Maybe I'm an ostrich. I want to sink my head into the sand and believe that nothing is wrong with the world because I can't see the oncoming train speeding to mow me down. Leave me be.

But such won't be the case. I'll still have newspapers screaming, my newsroom buzzing with talks, the darned news channels with their horribly annoying stories and those text messages that have changed from "Are you ok" to "Where were you and what were you doing".

What am I to do? I choose to shove my earphones deep and play my music loud but I think I'm missing the grenade explosions and gunshots that was my "heavy metal" for two days.

Are we going to grow up? Are we going to acknowledge our own need to not be masochists? We don't live in a country like that, I'm sorry. I don't think I myself am that way.

I was asked if I was scared being on Ground Zero. No, I wasn't scared and I had many many more of the fraternity being fearless out there too. But I was angry. With every explosion and every round of bullets fired, I was filled with rage and a hope to see a mutilated, bullet torn body of a Pathani clad young boy.

Yes, I typecast. The Versace wearing, fluent English speaking terrorist is not my idea of a miscreant. I went to the extent of saying, "Burn the Mozzis (a term I've taken best care to never use and a phrase I regret now)".

I guess I am (with due "respect" to my countrymen, let me not give in to the massive temptation of generalising) a vindictive monster. Help me God! Please do, because I can't bear to see myself this way but I can't accept anyone tearing down my paradise either.

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I want to salute the ones who lost their lives but I can't bear to think of them. What did they give their lives for? For us? For the city's safety? Why? Why Mr. Karkare? Why Mr. Amte? Why Mr. Salaskar? Why Major Unni?

We will not learn, don't you see? We are dyslexic! We will not learn to respect. We will mourn, yes. We will cry, yes. But we will never respect. And now I'll generalise because I don't care anymore.

I felt useless, impotent and utterly small when I received calls on Wednesday the 26^th of people asking me if I was ok. I didn’t report to work that day. Know why? Because I didn't feel like.

I felt worse on Thursday morning when I had the option to stay home but headed to work just to satisfy my journalistic ego. I was to stay put at my desk and DO NOTHING. The stock markets were closed! I had nothing to do as my city burnt in my backyard.

And when I eventually reached the two hotels, there was little revelation. The fourth estate had turned the whole thing into another TRP grabbing exercise. There were onlookers galore. Some even having the audacity of saying, "Yaar, mazaa aa gaya. Ye to sirf filmon mein dekha hai".

A certain celebrated scribe from one of the leading TV channels was seen cooling heels while the NSG head and police commissioner made statements to the press. Another news channel proudly aired a "conversation" the terrorists had with them. They declared with even more pride that the militants are from Hyderabad while at the same time other news channels aired that the Intelligence Bureau said that the terrorists had come from Karachi. Where is the credibility if this is journalism?

The administration in a press conference lauded the media for having adhered to requests of not airing live pictures and thus compromising on the troops' movements. The spokesperson clearly made an exception, "Except for one channel, I appreciate the media’s work". That "one channel" refused to compromise and continued to broadcast live pictures till the very end of the operation.. Kudos, such must be the stubbornness of a journalist! Who gives a fuck, right? The administration be damned, the operation be damned, the people who are out there 200 meters in front of your cameras so that you could report in safety be damned!!! Where is humanity and trust if I'm to believe that journalists are humans too and not capitalist robotic motherfuckers?

Yes, yes journalists are humans. I saw it first hand as I saw two cameramen from rival channels almost break into a fist fight under extreme pressure and frustration. "Hey! We need to report it too. Share the list!", "You can have it when I have reported. Mind your own fucking business", I heard! We get angry, we are humans.

Yes, we are humans. "Saale, peeche hat", said a journalist and pulled away a relative of a hostage waiting outside Trident. We get frustrated, we get angry, we misbehave, we are unapologetic, we are humans!

What do we learn? What do we show you, the one who went down to the bullets of a bunch of maniacs? What do we tell we learnt to you, the ones who were shot just because you happened to be the wrong one at the wrong place at the wrong time? What do we tell you?

Our leaders agreed that the whole crisis won’t be turned into a political tamasha and it was heartening to see a certain L K Advani actually speaking in tandem with the PM. How do you stop the new age Iron Man Modi from not checking for a moment and blaming the administration before even enquiring about the whole situation? How about deputy CM, the no-nonsense Patil doing a SRK saying "Bade bade shehron mein aise hadse hote rehte hai"?

One Mr. Gopinath Munde arrived for his evening stroll at the Taj on Friday night. While the media rushed to him for a statement, he refused and yelled to the camera guys, "Lights band karo". His minions solved the mystery to indicate how the lights would attract attention and Munde would be made target. Sure thing!!!! Run Munde, run like the wind!!

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Much will be spoken of the "Spirit of Mumbai" and the city's resilience. And then some will also be said of the insensitivity that such resilience might reflect. I refuse to take sides because I agree with both arguments.

Yes, Mumbai is probably one of the most resilient cities in the country. But then think again of the number of such crises the city has been subject to and being the "financial capital" of the country, forget just the city, India can't afford Mumbai coming to a standstill.

People have to move on and sadly or not, of all things Mumbaikars may or not have learnt from the many wounds inflicted, they sure have learnt to get up in the morning, get into a local train and then get to work.

Maybe we have become insensitive…maybe we have not.

I have a habit. I tend to doze off sitting idle in anything that moves. This habit shows most in my daily 4 hour journey to work and back in the local trains. My friends have clicked pictures, cracked wise ones of/at me snoring in the train.

In my snoozy state, I tend to fall or lean over the person next to me. And if that person is not known to me (which is the case most times), I get an angry shove, an irritated stare and some heated words sometimes.

Thursday morning, I fell asleep as usual and when the train reached CST, I realised I was resting my head on the shoulder of another passenger. I woke up embarrassed and apologised. I didn't expect and will not forget what happened next. He looked at me and gave me one of the most beautiful smiles that could break on anybody’s face before saying, "It's ok!"

It's ok, Mumbai, it's ok!!

My Mumbai, my home, my most beautiful city in the whole world needs a shoulder to rest and I cannot be enough proud to say there are over 10 million shoulders that would be gladly lent.

I love you, Mumbai!

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All things bright and Biprorshee

The Maharaja Has Left The Building

It was June 1996. As the Indian summer was drawing to a close, one certain man was heating things up in Lord's, England.
Sourav Chandidas Ganguly cracked a 131 in his first test appearance for India making him the highest run scorer on debut at what is known as the "Mecca of Cricket". He followed it with a 136 in the next match at Trent Bridge becoming only the third batsman to make a century in each of his first two innings.
The Maharaja had arrived!
I, all of 13, though not in England was in the next best place--Kolkata as the City of Joy erupted in obvious delight. Having been a non-resident Bengali, it made little sense to me then but looking back now, I wish otherwise.
A visit to the Dakshineshwar temple on the banks of river Hooghly will help if one wants to testify this.
Every morning, in some of those many stalls in the temple compound, do not be surprised if you see pictures of Rabindranath Tagore, Uttam Kumar, Kishore Kumar and Dada being worshipped along with Goddess Kali.
While Kolkata found an instant pin-up hero, the country followed suit as the Prince of Kolkata marched on piling runs and making the off-side his own fiefdom.
Come 1997 and Dada showed he could roll his arms a bit too as he made Pakistan run for cover at Sahara Cup, Toronto winning four consecutive man of the match awards. As much as we love to jump the gun, we put the mantle of an "all rounder" on the southpaw. Dada never complained!
After many experiments, the Indian team had finally found a perfect left and right hand opening combination, as Sourav Ganguly and Sachin Tendulkar became one of the most lethal and enduring pair in limited over matches.
The memory is etched firm as I chewed off my fingers literally while Sourav held fort and India successfully and very dramatically chased Pakistan's 315 off 48 overs in the final of the Independence Cup at Dhaka in January 1998.
The 1999 World Cup in England is my next best memory as Ganguly with his future deputy Rahul Dravid blew to smithereens the Sri Lankan attack at Taunton, Somerset.
His knock of 183 off 158 balls remains the highest by an Indian in the tournament while his 318-run partnership with Dravid is the highest ever in the World Cup and is the second highest in all ODI cricket. Defending world champions of the time, Muttiah Muralitharan be damned!
It wasn't for nothing Dravid said, "On the off-side, first there is God then there is Sourav Ganguly!"
The following year as Indian cricket sunk to the lowest low amid the match fixing scandal and dismal performances, the nation cried out loud for a leader. While Tendulkar failed to balance batting and captaincy, Ganguly rose to the occasion.
Results though not swift were apparent. In the 2000 edition of the ICC Knockout Trophy in Kenya, India faltered only at the final hurdle to New Zealand.
Just for trivia sake, Sourav Ganguly was the highest run scorer of the tournament.
Long before Greg Chappell even thought of the "young gun" mantra for the Indian cricket team, Ganguly was twisting arms of the selectors championing the cause of young stalwarts like Yuvraj Singh, Zaheer Khan, Harbhajan Singh, Virender Sehwag, Irfan Pathan and eventually the current Indian captain, Mahendra Singh Dhoni.
The captain knew what he was doing as the youngsters he pushed did not let him down.
In 2001, with Anil Kumble injured, Sourav insisted against popular opinion for the inclusion of Harbhajan Singh in the Gavaskar-Border Trophy. The offie whose career was in question over the legality of action became the first Indian bowler to claim a hat trick in Test cricket and with 32 wickets the Man of the Series that India won.
Steve Waugh's "final frontier" remained an elusive dream and we had the Maharaja to thank for leading a team out of the dumps and into the victor's dressing room.
It was etched in stone. India no longer was a home-turf bully and here was a team that was intimidated by no one.
Be it standing up Waugh at the toss or hurling his 99 number jersey unashamedly from the Lord's balcony on a dramatic victory over England, Sourav Ganguly showed the country leading a team is about taking no prisoners.
He started the now famous "team huddle", he illustrated that matches were not just won on the field and opponents could be thrashed just in the mind, Dada brought the word "team" its true worth.
An almost glorious run at the 2003 ICC World Cup followed when once again the national team played some blistering cricket to reach the finals and to eventually be humbled by Australia.
Only then the chinks in the armour seemed too apparent to be ignored. Fallout with the national coach, dwindling batting form, questions over fielding capabilities saw the king lose more than just his crown.
As Sourav watched his team on television in his drawing room, daughter Sana asked, "Bapi, why are you not playing?" An emotional father quietly replied because "they" did not think he was "good enough".
Comebacks followed but the critics were never silenced. Successful runs were quickly overshadowed by unsuccessful ones.
The old warrior finally knew his time had come when much to the woes of Behala, Kolkata and the nation, Sourav called it a day in October 2008.
As India humiliated Australia in Nagpur and brought home the Gavaskar-Border Trophy after four years, Sourav bowed out and in what style!
In an emotional gesture that would be long remembered, captain Dhoni asked Dada to lead the team one last time. It was yesterday once more as Sourav marshalled his troops in the much familiar style.
Hearts choked as Sourav was carried on shoulders, emotions worked overtime as the crowds chanted "Dada" and there were smiles galore as the shirt came off once again and was hurled to the fans.
And while the curtains closed and Sourav said, "I see myself in Dhoni", we know that the Maharaja is gone but his legacy remains. We believe!

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All things bright and Biprorshee