I see my family there

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Karambir Kang stopped midway through answering the first question.. his steady gaze pierced with the pain of what I was asking him. I felt wretched. Here was a man who had lost his wife Niti and two beautiful sons, Uday and Samar, aged 14 and 5, as they burnt to death in their 6th floor room in the Taj. Kang continued with the operations till all the terrorists were dead, reportedly leaving the Taj only when Ratan Tata walked up to him and made him.

I asked Kang to take his time, and just as I mentally phrased telling him we didn't need to go through with this, he recovered his composure, and, after a time, asked me to repeat the question. It seemed as if he was determined to go on, just as decidedly as he took charge the moment terror struck on November 26. So I repeated my question, a lot more gently, a lot less eager. I asked him what gave him the almost superhuman strength to go through with the rescue operations after learning about his family. "I thought they may still be alive," he said. "That was there at the back of my mind. I instinctively did what was the right thing to do at that moment. My staff was around me.. the staff, the policemen, they were the real heroes."

At one point during the attack, Kang visited the St. George hospital to look for his family. Not finding them there, he turned around abruptly and left back for the Taj, to continue leading his staff. Torn between two terrible truths: that his family was no more, and his home was being destroyed. I wondered what made him agree to speak to us. But I felt it was because of what he said, "My family are a part of the hotel now. They are there. That was my real strength. I need to be involved and will be, in restoring it better than what it was...My family died there. I see them there. I can't let them down and let the terrorists win."

After the interview, a fellow correspondent asked me why we interviewed Kang.. why couldn't we leave him alone? Why couldn't we give him the dignity of privacy? Here's why: If we report terror, then we must report the consequences of terror. We must tell the stories of what these families are going through. We must make these stories public so people watching or reading or hearing these stories feel the same grief. We must feel the same searing pain. We must feel the same fear. And the same strength. Kang's story must be told so he does not grieve alone. As inhabitants of this city, if we no longer want to be anonymous, if we no longer want to be 'resilient', if we want our voice to be counted, then it is our responsibility to hear these stories, and spread them. The story of why a man goes back to battle, goes back to lead, when his world lies shattered. Why he calls on a private might to do his duty, to the end. Why a commander cannot abandon his ship when it needs him most. As Kang put it, "I am the General Manager, I had to take the lead. I had to be the leader. No other thought came to me. That was the way it was."

Some have questioned why Kang focused on the Taj instead of his family. In my mind, we do not have the right to ask this question. We may share his grief, but we cannot understand its depth. We ended our interview with Kang reaching out to other families who have lost loves ones, "I grieve with them because I know what they're going through. In the grieving, we have to heal, not let them down, work towards a greater purpose, do deeds that will make them proud of us.."

As he left, muttering 'thank you' to me more times than I was comfortable with, I shook his hand, and told him what an honour it was to have met him. He just shook his head, said, "No, I'm no hero".. and walked away, silent, gracious, and strong.