Ghouls of the Past!

It was never going to be an ordinary day! How could it? When you are returning home after a decade? How could it be nothing, but, just a banal day in your mundane life? When you have a home away from home, when you have decided that you want to spend your adult life, away from your childhood memories, how could returning home not open the flood gates of emotions? It was one of those days for Arkansh. He had spent most of his adult life away from his country and was living the American Dream. As happens with most people, he had stepped into the land of opportunities to add to his existing educational qualifications. With a higher degree, it was natural that he wanted to get work experience for at least 2 years, then 5 years, and of course after that point, there was no turning back.

It is not that the urge to return to his country was absent, it was just that there were so many other conflicting emotions, that were present. Although, initially he had struggled to settle down in this great, bustling city called New York, this is where he was at peace with himself. This city absorbed his sorrow and pain. The lights lent their brightness to him. The lane-weaving taxis reminded him of home, and he would get excited to experience that morsel of semblance between the life he had left behind and the life waiting for him ahead.  Like any other Indian, Arkansh loved crowds and was happiest when dodging big totes, umbrellas, and office satchels, on his way to work. The noise around him silenced the voices inside him; he somehow derived comfort from this big city and its busy people.

After all, it was in this city that he had found his wife, it was here that he was witness to the birth of their two wonderful children. And this is where, he had walked into the USCIS office for the naturalization process. He had come to love this city so much, he had forgotten for a while what pain, what loneliness felt. He was never alone on the Brooklyn Bridge, he was never alone at Wall Street, and he definitely was never alone at Times Square. That is the surprising thing about New York. No matter your ethnicity, your job, your gender, your beliefs; you are never alone. The true New Yorkers at the end of the day, still love the same things in this city, the 24 hour food joints, the fact that night never dawns, the picturesque outline in the sky, the wind drafts in downtown, the ever-existent sirens of NYPD, the celebrities you could run into and just the liveliness of this city.

Arkansh had decided this is the city, he wanted to spend the rest of his life in. Life was easier here, he did not have to deal with the demons of his past. He was not reminded of them every minute of every waking hour. It had taken him a long time to rise out of the ashes, and he did not want to fall into darkness once again. His kids’ smiling faces, his wife’s welcoming eyes, his co-workers’ friendly banter led him to believe this is where home was and this is where more happiness was in store for him.

All these beliefs were shaken on that fateful day, when all he could hear were screams around him, and the sensation of ground slipping beneath his feet. It was that day he actually saw people stop working, and look up from their computers to find out what was happening. It felt like an earthquake, things were falling off their desks, and all signs of personal space were wiped into oblivion. Arkansh was still confused and all his colleagues gathered near the window to see what was happening. The other buildings looked fine, that doesn’t happen in an earthquake! A natural calamity doesn’t discriminate!

It was in that moment, that they saw smoke in the sky, unlike any before. It was black and dense and carried a sense of loom. Even as they wondered what was going on, a dozen phones started ringing almost together. The chances of this happening were very rare, and in that instant, all of them knew there was something seriously wrong. On the phones, it was wives, sons, mothers, friends; all talking about the same thing – get out of the building! But, the way human brain is designed, everybody wanted more information. “What is happening? Why do you sound so alarmed?”, yelled Arkansh into the phone, to make himself heard over the loud, almost deafening noise of steel rubbing into steel. “An airplane just crashed into the top floors of the World Trade Center, nobody knows what it is, but there is no time. There is a huge fire on those floors and it is spreading fast”, exclaimed Arkansh’s wife.

Even before Arkansh could wrap his mind around the unfurling events, he could see that everybody had been informed about the same. He could see the terror in everyone’s eyes. He grabbed his coffee mug, and started running towards the elevator and then suddenly remembered that sign he had walked past a 100 times ‘In case of a fire, take the stairs’. He had seen fires in his life, and he was not going to take this lightly. He had to alight 62 floors, but he would have to do it. So much for the stamina-building classes he had taken, when younger. That would be put to test today!

He ran into a lot of strangers on his way down, but somehow they all looked similar. They had two legs, trying to move as fast as they could; two hands covering their mouths to avoid inhaling the smoke; one nose trying to carry out breathing normally; and a pair of eyes, pallid with shock and horror. It did not matter in that moment, what their names were, which country they came from or what language they spoke. They were all fellow humans, with the common human traits of fear, camaraderie, hope and faith. It wasn’t an easy task, making your feet move so fast, the feet that were used to relaxing, when your hands worked away on the computer. But, the sirens from the fire trucks made it easier. There was a sense of urgency instilled because of that.

Arkansh kept running for what felt like forever, and a million thoughts were running through his mind. Would this be the day he would finally unite with his parents? Would this be the day his children would experience what it feels like to lose a parent? He kept having flashes of his past, not because he thought he was dying. But, because he had witnessed such a scene before in his life too. He was trying not to think about it, because there was nothing in his life that scared him more than his past. And this was not a time he could deal with such issues, buckling under the pressure. There was nothing else that he wanted more at that point than to be able to see the blue sky and the bright sun.

He was running out of breath, but couldn’t afford to take long breaks. So he huffed and puffed, but kept going. When he finally reached outside the building, he saw the magnitude of the event. Fear induces fear. And it was only when he saw the horror on the faces of the onlookers, that he realized what a death trap he had escaped from. The top floors of the tower had collapsed by now and there was nothing but black smoke that was visible. A paramedic moved him out of the way, and started checking if his vision was fine, moving a light in front of his eyes. It felt like Arkansh had frozen, but there was no time for all this, the paramedic brought him back to his senses and kept ushering him out of the scene, saying “Sir, you need to leave NOW”!

As people tried to accept what was happening and started moving away from the site, there was sudden chaos and hollering. The speed with which people started running, felt like a bull racing arena. Arkansh peeked back, still running, when he saw that the first tower was imploding. There was this loud “Whoosh” sound and the whole tower had disappeared in a matter of seconds. He couldn’t help thinking about all the people inside. Had there been enough time for all of them to evict safely? Could they still be rescued out of the rubble? But, before he could think any more, he blanked out with this thick, dense layer of soot and concrete that was grabbing downtown with its evil extensions. There was such darkness and pall that it felt like the worst tornado in the history of America.

When he woke up, he was in a hospital with an oxygen mask on, helping his lungs recover from the unexpected exertion. His family was around and he pinched himself to make sure this wasn’t a dream. His coffee mug was placed on the table next to him; the coffee mug that had a picture of his parents. In the days to come, all he could think of was going back home, back to his country, once again running away from tragedy. He could no longer bear to walk past the rubble that once housed his office, he could not muster the courage to board a plane, and he was running out of ways to deal with the paranoia of loud sounds.

But, the year after this huge tragedy had struck this magnanimous city, he noticed things he had never observed before about the city. An iconic part of the city had been diminished to nothing but concrete, steel, and dust. Yet, the spirit of the people stayed the same! It was not the city, but the people who made the city, that he had loved all these years. He loved that there was always more room for diversity and it took hardly any effort to be accepted. He loved that people were so busy, yet bonded over commonalities like the Subway, or Winter in Central Park. It was the essence of humanity that made these places memorable. And gradually, he saw the city heal! The people helped bring back the city on its feet. The shattered towers still stood there as a testimony of what had transpired that Autumn day, but the rubble was not as heavy on the eye as before. There were wreaths all around, tiny flags, teddy bears, and notes saying “We will never forget”! There were signs of tenacity and resilience in these small acts of kindness that screamed out loud saying “We will find a way to overcome this, we will not give up”. But, Arkansh could witness all this only because he had stayed long enough after the tragedy, to witness the healing process.

Years ago, he had deprived his childhood city of this chance. It was for the same reason he was going back home to Mumbai. A year after the day that he had woken up in the hospital, he decided he could no longer take it; the guilt of having abandoned his brother, his city. He should have been there to revive the spirit of his childhood city. The city, where his home had been once, where he had learnt the art of playing cricket. Yet, this was the city that had scarred him for life. The December of 1992 had changed his view of this city forever. The riots, the killings, the blasts in 1993 had ruined all the good memories he had of this city. It was then that he had lost everything; he lost his house in the riots, then his parents, his friends, his neighbors, every single thing. He could not believe this haven could turn so heinous. He could not believe the only reason he and his brother had been spared was, because they were visiting their uncle on the other end of the city. Only to find out on their return, their whole life turned upside down. Even today, all he could hear was blood-curdling cries, wails and angry outbursts. All he could think of was splattered blood, severed limbs, and cold eyes.

Arkansh was so angry at the work of these depraved minds, that he decided never to step foot in that place ever again. He was old enough and had already applied to schools in America for an M.S. degree. He left Mumbai as soon as possible, trusting his uncle to take care of his younger brother. Once in the U.S, he worked hard to forget and wipe off that part from his memory slate. He kept in touch with his brother, but never ever brought up that ugly day in his conversation. When Arkansh got a job and his brother was old enough to start college, he coaxed him to move to the States too. But, his younger brother was the stronger one. He wanted to stay in Mumbai, and help out with rebuilding the small town. This, Arkansh absolutely did not approve of. Neither did he understand what ‘rebuilding’ meant! But, he gave in, saying he would return in a few years. That day never came, because Arkansh never could find it in him to face the monstrous setting which had filched everything from him. He kept on trying to separate that part of his life, not realizing one thing. Tragedy has to be embraced, to be able to heal. If you ignore tragedy, you are giving it room to increase in magnitude. Arkansh had been harboring bitterness, anger and hurt within himself; he never came to terms with reality.

After almost 10 years, Arkansh would be seeing his brother. Today, was the day, he would see what healing and rebuilding meant. His escapade and the way he saw New York City transform pushed him to give Mumbai a chance too. The familiar muggy smell, the yellow and black taxis, the autorickshaws, the water puddles welcomed him back with open arms. The misty wind at Marine Drive, the constant rub-a-dub of local trains networking the city, the roadside vendors were all reminders of how well the city had managed to retain its essence. Yet, there were signs of urban growth like the billboards of Gucci and Fossil, that took him by surprise. The last time he was here, the city was Bombay and not Mumbai. His little city had been witness to many changes, it had gathered the pieces together and moved towards creating a stronger, modern city. And it hurt Arkansh a lot, not to have been a part of this growth, this renaissance.

In all these years, Arkansh’s brother had worked with others who had suffered losses to rebuild that community. They had embraced tragedy, accepted that their loved ones were not coming back, but their memories would always stay alive. Over these years, they had managed to put together a community housing, for children orphaned in such tragedies. And when Arkansh saw the same community that had been burnt down, now springing with laughter and cheer, he knew instantaneously, this is what healing meant.

He had never even waited for the process to start, agitated at the fact that such a crime against humanity was so easily carried out here. He thought he would escape the ugly side of human nature by moving half way across the globe. But, human nature is the same, there is revenge, cruelty, insensitivity and then, there is empathy, fortitude and forgiveness living inside the same humans. Which side shines brighter is something nobody can predict, and you can never run away from it. The best you can do is to find solace in the signs of humanity.

This was the day Arkansh realized that people are the same around the world. There were so many similarities between the two cities that he had loved and hated. Both cities had recovered from disaster, not because of the landmark structures. It wasn’t the buildings reaching out to each other, consoling the broken ones; it was the people who joined hands and healed themselves, by consoling others. That essence was common in both the cities. And later, as Arkansh would find out, was similar all over the world.

Working at the community housing with his brother, Arkansh realized it was so easy to let go off your pain, if you peeped into someone else’s heart, helping them deal with their demons. Smiles really were infectious at such places, because one smile meant the triumph of the whole group. A month later, Arkansh was leaving Mumbai with a lighter heart, and the desire to come back sooner. Today, Arkansh has a small NGO called ‘CitySpirit’, that connects terror victims across the world, and helps them bond over losses, find rays of hope and ultimately heal. He visits Mumbai every year now, helps the kids and hopes that one day there would be no need for such organizations.

Arkansh had known all along that it wouldn’t be an ordinary day returning to that scary place, but what he had not known was that his life would change forever that day. It was like his rebirth; the rebirth of the happy, content, hopeful and lively person within him. There was nothing ordinary about that day because that was the day he came to terms with reality, that was the day he learnt a lesson in letting go, that was the day his hatred transformed to fondness again, that was the day he grabbed his inner ghouls by the arm and tossed them out, that was the day he gained perspective, that was the day he felt part of two cities at once and that was the day he finally felt reunited with his parents!

Note: This is a work of fiction, created for the WriteUpCafe Contest.

This post is part of the contest It was never going to be an ordinary day.. on WriteUpCafe.com

The Faces of Terror

This blog was published in the Times of India NRI section.

Last Wednesday, when terror took over Mumbai yet again, the blasts did not just shake Mumbai, it shook and sent its tremors across the world. But, the question is: did it shake the world enough to take notice? Terror attacks, blasts, shootings and many such violent acts have become so common these days, that humanity has become numb to the pain of these terrible blows.

When the powerful earthquake and tsunami hit Japan this March, one thing kept coming to my mind all the time. Is it not enough that we are helpless in front of Nature's wrath? Innocent lives being taken by natural disasters cannot be helped. Why, then do we inflict more hurt and pain brought upon by man-made attacks? Any life is not worth being ended by some meaningless act of terror. And it should hurt us to see fellow human beings being treated like some actors in a play, whose roles have come to an end. Nobody has the right to play God and decide which character leaves the act when.

When we heard about the blasts last week, a friend of mine came up to me and said in a very concerned voice "Did you hear about the blasts, nobody has claimed responsibility for it yet". And my reply was "Does it really matter?". It really doesn't matter if it was an Al-Qaeda or a Jaish-e-Mohamed or a Lashkar-e-Toiba or  some other new branch of these terror groups. The fact of the matter is that they kill innocent people and wield weapons as though they were essential commodities. Ask the relatives of those dead in these blasts whether they really care who carried out this atrocious act. For them, their family member is gone, is never coming back and that pain can never go away. Knowing who did it and why they did it is a futile attempt to bring back happiness to them. No amount of investigations will help them come to terms with reality and it is definitely not going to bring back their loved one. So does this mean, we just look at it like an accident and move on? No, it just means: bring justice to these people by preventing such incidents. I know, it is not easy to keep such a big country secure all the time, but trying is all we can do.

It shouldn't take a 9/11 for the world to sit up and take notice of the dangers of terrorism. Why did the world suddenly become aware of this pre-eminent threat in 2001? Was it because of the scale of the attack or the big numbers? But loss of life is no different whether it was 1 or 1000. A terror victim is a terror victim. There is nothing fair or just about someone's life being put to a stop by gory acts. A victim dies an anonymous, painful, pointless, unnecessary death and nobody deserves that. You know, people can only take so much. Once they are done, they either give up, feeling helpless or rise to the occasion and take back what is theirs: justice. We are feeling helpless now, and are being exploited because of that. We have to find a way to stand up and stop this, we have to make the corridors of power take notice and do something!!!

It has only been 2 years since the last dreadful day in Mumbai, when the whole city was under attack. The wounds are still fresh from then and here they are back again to scrape the scab. It is sad that here in America, people know Mumbai because of that attack. That is not something, I would like my country to be known for. And the ironic part is, half the world does not even know about the supposedly smaller and more frequently occurring terror attacks. It is just a week from the recent blasts and this news has disappeared from the news bulletins. What is happening to our society? Why does a blow against human life become insignificant enough to disappear in the ever-changing news world? Have we made this a part of life?

The truth is "Yes, we have". People talk about the spirit of Mumbai. Mumbai does not stop for anything, it keeps going on. Is it something we should be proud of or should we be looking into the devious reality behind that? Mumbai does not stop because there is no option. No offices are closed because of a blast. Everybody goes to work because their bosses don't give them vacation for some unknown lives lost. The President of India does not declare a National Holiday, the CM does not shut down the state, so what do you expect normal people to do? It is not their choice, but their helplessness that Mumbaiites keep going on. And I am not proud of it for sure. It just shows that we as a society have become so used to these occurrences, that our minds have stopped taking notice. Mumbaikars keep leading their regular day, just hoping and praying that today will not be their unlucky day. And the day is not far, when most of us will live with that very same fear in our minds. Because terror does not see boundaries or religions, it is just pointless and irrational and if it is Mumbai today, it will be something else tomorrow.

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