Traumatic Tuesday

As I left office this evening never had I imagined that I was about to embark on a traumatic journey home. As I got off the cab at Elphistone station, someone just shouted that there was a bomb blast at Mahim. As I reached the platform, I saw hoards of people rushing out of the station, as I tried to find out what was happening, there was an announcement on the system, that all trains until Bhayandar were dismissed. Having been so used to listening to all this incidents on a daily basis now, I never really bothered to much, but when I learnt that the last blast happened at Bandra station, I just prayed that Ma, was not affected by it, I frantically tried calling her. Ma had just called me, a couple of minutes earlier and told me she was at Bandra, so in all possibility she was going to be at the station and boarding the same first class compartment in which the blasts occurred

As I waited to get a cab towards Bandra, I just managed to get through Ma`s phone and she told me she was alright and heading home in the rickshaw. If it was not for God’s blessings and everybody’s good wishes, I don’t know what state she would have been. Later when I reached home, I learnt that she had seen the blast in front of her eyes outside the station. The dead bodies being wrapped and rushed outside, bleeding passengers being rushed into ambulances, the scare in the peoples eyes, the howling of the workers to make way for the patients.

After walking a little bit where I saw some injured bodies being taken in an ambulance, myself and two other women managed to get a cab. Later I learnt that the cabbie was not aware of the blasts so he took the ride. The journey back home from Elphistone took me exactly four & half-hours and was truly traumatic.
Ambulances and Police vehicle alarm sounds, roads jammed with traffic, sea of people walking on both sides of roads, over crowded buses, rickshaws, taxis, stranded people waiting for some kind of transport to get home, and to add to it the sudden heavy downpour in some areas that even made visibility impossible. As I tried calling and informing colleagues, relatives and friends at work amidst the jammed network, loads of Sms and phone calls from across the country and the world started pouring in, just to find out if we were all ok. This was probably the only comforting factor; it felt nice to know that there were so many people in this world who cared to find out, whether you were dead or alive

As I dropped the other two women at their destination near Parle station, I was more than willing to give a lift to anyone on my route home, but just as I reached Vile Parle Station, some kind of gunda volunteers, maybe some party workers along with the policemen were just forcing people into cabs or cars to get them home. There act was not bad, but I am not sure if forcing or using harsh language with the cabbies and rickshawalas to get stranded passengers on route home was a right way of doing this social service

So now, I had seven people sitting in cab. Traffic post Andheri was crazy. However, the Bombay spirit was truly visible, volunteers coming and passing bottles of water, people climbing on the hood of Volvo buses & outstation buses to get home, people getting into trucks and hanging out of BEST buses. However, all this while what really bothered me was the state of families of those hundreds of people who would have died in these serial blasts. How would their families find them? Who knows out of those who have died, some would have been the sole bread earners for the family. Some would have just started their families, what will happen to those families?

A Death is such a painful thing, especially when its least expected.