Santa Clara – 11th July 2006 - 7-11
Santa Clara – 11th July 2006 - 7-11
An early morning SMS woke me up. I thought it was a friend who had informed me that I would get a message confirming availability to have a talk. Just past 7am on Tuesday morning the 7th of July 2006 in the USA. It had been a late night earlier. But as usual I had a sound sleep before being woken up. The cell phone tinkled again, gently. I finally rose, and checked the message. Not the expected message but another dear friend from Mumbai. Five bomb blasts at Mumbai. I woke up fully without any caffeine in the system.
Called my friend who was to message me. And realized that I was conveying the news about the blasts. Short conversation. Tried my other friends in Mumbai. No luck. None of the calls went through. CNN was providing news. Surfed the web for news. Seven blasts. Browsed through an online network I frequented. Some mindless moronic posts on some threads. An email comes in. A bunch of Mumbai based bloggers dedicating themselves to provide information to those who were wanting information on their loved ones. Exchange of names and telephone numbers. Some confirmations. Some calls had no responses. The only comfort was the one friend who has messaged me was safe. Wondered how the others were. The blasts had happened at the peak hour of commute. On the crowded western railway lines. I spent more than one hour and was late getting to work.
Thankfully, there wasn’t too much of interest on the blasts at work. Some discussions. Some interested in knowing what it was all about. Some feeling bad. Some just disinterested, but curious. Another day at work. Frequent browsing to check the situation back in Mumbai.
Made my way back to my hotel after a long and eventful day. Dinner. Decided to check out a restaurant that had caught my eye while driving around. Kabob Korner. Walked in. 7 PM. Just one couple at the table of this large restaurants. Yes, they had take-out. The person at the counter was warm. Asked the rude question, unable to figure out his roots. Thought it could be Persian. No, Indian. Must probably have been a second or third generation going by his accent. Very impressive menu. He quickly made his recommendations after checking if this was my first visit. Yes. I don’t live here anymore. Just a visitor. I opted my own selection against his recommendation. Order placed to kitchen, and I preferred to wait rather than step out for a smoke.
“Did you see the news?” he starts.
“Of course. Very sad”
“I watched the news. Terrible”
“It is. Very difficult to protect the local railway lines. Have you been there?”
“No! Am from Delhi”
A few minutes and my order comes in.
Drive to a grocery store enroute to my hotel room. Water was running out, so had to pick a case of bottled mineral water. The chlorine content in US tap water is not to my liking. End up buying things for $45 – cost of the case of water was about $4. Walking out to the car, I encounter him. He looks at me as I put away my bags into the boot.
“You are from India?”
A decade ago, I was used to hearing “India? What?” Should I feel happy?
“Yes, Indian”. Fact is many a times have been mistaken for a Sri Lankan over here and more often in London.
“Terrible guys! The muslims have done it right?”
“No, some fanatics”
“Must be Al Qaeda”
“No idea. Some fanatics, surely”
“Muslims, man!! Good day!!”
“Good day”
I wondered if he had never heard of Tim McVeigh.
Whatever happened doesn’t make an iota of change in my attitude and affections for my Muslim friends or my Pakistani contacts. I am happy these incidents happen once in a while and not ever so frequently. The regret for the loss of lives is there. Innocent people who went to work to earn a honest living and were returning to there loved ones were so brutally massacred in a political action.
You could so easily have been there. The flight you take next could be ill-fated. The driver across the road could lose control and crash right into you. It is sensible to live life fully, live the day and stop worrying about the small issues in life. Life is all about making that day count. You may never see tomorrow.
Santa Clara – 11th July 2006 - 7-11
An early morning SMS woke me up. I thought it was a friend who had informed me that I would get a message confirming availability to have a talk. Just past 7am on Tuesday morning the 7th of July 2006 in the USA. It had been a late night earlier. But as usual I had a sound sleep before being woken up. The cell phone tinkled again, gently. I finally rose, and checked the message. Not the expected message but another dear friend from Mumbai. Five bomb blasts at Mumbai. I woke up fully without any caffeine in the system.
Called my friend who was to message me. And realized that I was conveying the news about the blasts. Short conversation. Tried my other friends in Mumbai. No luck. None of the calls went through. CNN was providing news. Surfed the web for news. Seven blasts. Browsed through an online network I frequented. Some mindless moronic posts on some threads. An email comes in. A bunch of Mumbai based bloggers dedicating themselves to provide information to those who were wanting information on their loved ones. Exchange of names and telephone numbers. Some confirmations. Some calls had no responses. The only comfort was the one friend who has messaged me was safe. Wondered how the others were. The blasts had happened at the peak hour of commute. On the crowded western railway lines. I spent more than one hour and was late getting to work.
Thankfully, there wasn’t too much of interest on the blasts at work. Some discussions. Some interested in knowing what it was all about. Some feeling bad. Some just disinterested, but curious. Another day at work. Frequent browsing to check the situation back in Mumbai.
Made my way back to my hotel after a long and eventful day. Dinner. Decided to check out a restaurant that had caught my eye while driving around. Kabob Korner. Walked in. 7 PM. Just one couple at the table of this large restaurants. Yes, they had take-out. The person at the counter was warm. Asked the rude question, unable to figure out his roots. Thought it could be Persian. No, Indian. Must probably have been a second or third generation going by his accent. Very impressive menu. He quickly made his recommendations after checking if this was my first visit. Yes. I don’t live here anymore. Just a visitor. I opted my own selection against his recommendation. Order placed to kitchen, and I preferred to wait rather than step out for a smoke.
“Did you see the news?” he starts.
“Of course. Very sad”
“I watched the news. Terrible”
“It is. Very difficult to protect the local railway lines. Have you been there?”
“No! Am from Delhi”
A few minutes and my order comes in.
Drive to a grocery store enroute to my hotel room. Water was running out, so had to pick a case of bottled mineral water. The chlorine content in US tap water is not to my liking. End up buying things for $45 – cost of the case of water was about $4. Walking out to the car, I encounter him. He looks at me as I put away my bags into the boot.
“You are from India?”
A decade ago, I was used to hearing “India? What?” Should I feel happy?
“Yes, Indian”. Fact is many a times have been mistaken for a Sri Lankan over here and more often in London.
“Terrible guys! The muslims have done it right?”
“No, some fanatics”
“Must be Al Qaeda”
“No idea. Some fanatics, surely”
“Muslims, man!! Good day!!”
“Good day”
I wondered if he had never heard of Tim McVeigh.
Whatever happened doesn’t make an iota of change in my attitude and affections for my Muslim friends or my Pakistani contacts. I am happy these incidents happen once in a while and not ever so frequently. The regret for the loss of lives is there. Innocent people who went to work to earn a honest living and were returning to there loved ones were so brutally massacred in a political action.
You could so easily have been there. The flight you take next could be ill-fated. The driver across the road could lose control and crash right into you. It is sensible to live life fully, live the day and stop worrying about the small issues in life. Life is all about making that day count. You may never see tomorrow.
posted by vincentsunder at
8:26 PM
|
4 Comments
