AUGUST ELEVENTH

It has been a month.....

A month since that day when a lifeline bled.A month since the day humanity came under siege.A month since normalcy came undone . A month since , atleast for a little while , a city lost its direction.A month since hundreds last saw the light of day on their way back from work.A month since the day a nation wept and the world mourned.

A month since the day Mumbai was torn open, ravaged and mutilated by the serial blasts.

It doesn't hurt that much anymore...how could it?Afterall a month is a phenomenal number of days in the world's calender.Much has happened since then.There has been war, a mole, a leak, prince rescued and numerous ego battles,which has become the norm of functioning in the government.

Who has time to mourn? Or even remember....

We have accepted,albeit reluctantly, terrorism and its hateful consequences as a normal occurence of daily living. The "Terrorist" has become us, merged his identity with ours , existing in a normal, unscrupulous manner.His description is stereotypical.Bearded, Asian, evil.Muslim.

It is this very description that misleads an entire populous...that drives nations to war......that misconstrues faith and sanctity of religion with reddened edge of the blade.Yet we can't escape it.It is the elusive antidote to a sadistic cancer.It gnaws away at the concept of life.....

The only thing that one remembers after a deafening blast is the eriee silence that follows it.It isn't too hard to hear the deathly quiet.It is that moment of introspection when you look within yourselves to find answers that you know you wouldn't get.....there is a certain nakedness of feelings evoked.Your masks wear off ...and everything is razed to the ground, literally and metaphorically.
Then you look beyond yourselves to the outside and grope at nothingness for comfort.The mood is supposedly solemn,but a nervous energy excites you and keeps your mind ticking.
It is in the face on tradegy that one thinks with pristine clarity.

The Mumbaiker spirit became the face of the ugly scars.It was a great upheavel.For mumbai,for mankind.The Indian suddenly gained that much needed maturity.Actions were lauded,praises sung and bodies burnt. Wet eyes searched for loved ones , their hands and feet numb.The seemingly helpless were helping.The broken were picking up shattered pieces .The lonely were walking back home, without news or hope......
We allowed the Mumbai spirit to rescue us from a certain death.The death of beleif in a decadent system that under rot and ruin is giving away.It channelised the angst , disawllowing an encore of the Godhra debacle.It did wonders to indian optimism as opposed to indian cynicism.Scarred,Mumbai reared it shorn head again the very next morning,on its way to work and school.It smiled nervous smiles.It held hands with strangers.....the lifeline was off once again.I did detect a slight apprehension making its way through the placid exterior,i thought i saw the resilience give away a little.But i put it down to the (in)famous Indian cynicism.

Reluctantly, i switched off the television.My weary eyes shut out the world, it shut out the worst kind of human tradegy i had ever witnessed.
Finally, the deafening silence.