Kasab trial: 26/11 survivors wait for justice

2

Tweet

The special court instituted inside Arthur Road Jail to conduct a trial for terrorist Ajmal Amir Kasab - captured on camera and by scores of witnesses, wreaking havoc and death on all who came in his way two years ago - had but one task: to prosecute and indict Kasab if found guilty. As the trial has progressed, it's this 'IF' word that's getting harder to swallow for impatient Mumbaikars. For the city, the basic premise awarded to every individual - innocent until proven guilty - seems inapplicable to Kasab.

For the survivors of the 166 people who died in the attacks, the trial itself, based on that premise, is causing grave injury. The anger and frustration are, even today, uniformly raw among those who have lost. Eknath Ombale, brother of slain policeman Tukaram Ombale who captured Kasab, runs a vada-pav stall at Tardeo. When we met him ahead of the High Court's decision to either confirm or set aside Kasab's death sentence, he repeated the same refrain we've heard every time the news media approaches him for a statement - 'cut off Kasab's limbs one by one, or hang him at the Gateway of India in full public view.' Does that sound too medieval? Well, it's a sentiment echoed by many in the city, including Kavita Karkare, the self-possessed wife of slain ATS chief Hemant Karkare, and brave 10-year-old Devika Rotawan, the youngest witness in the case, who uses crutches after being shot in the leg at Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. The owners and staff at Leopold Café bristle when asked about the trial, say they are sick of coming on television, and refuse to give a bite for the camera. Finally owner Farhang Jehani relents, saying, "The whole world saw it on television. What are they waiting for?"

It's true we are not a banana republic where people are tried in kangaroo courts, as the Union Home Minister put it. But that argument is now ringing hollow for those whose memories haven't faded, not just survivors and victims. 26/11, in some ways, has been distinct from other terror attacks in Mumbai, in that it has unified Mumbaikars to a greater extent than other attacks have done. Where we were at the time of the attack, what we were doing, is still a hot topic for discussion from Marine Lines to Borivali. The desire to see swift justice meted out is stronger in this case, than possibly ever before. No doubt, there is a lot to be gained from the technicalities of the court process, that don't necessarily interest only lawyers and court clerks. But the two key questions that a public inexpert in legalese asks, since the trial began on April 15, 2009 (5 months after the attacks) are:

1. Will due process for Kasab get our law-makers and law enforcers any closer to the 35 (named) real perpetrators of these crimes - the Pakistani handlers behind the attacks? The only evidence to pin their involvement in the attacks is Kasab's confession - a statement that he retracted and that is treated as circumstantial, at best. David Headley's involvement provides the only other direct evidentiary linkage to Pakistan, but has been left out of the chargesheet - primarily because of the US's insistence on prosecuting Headley on its own soil.

2. Then, if there is nothing greater to be gained by keeping Kasab incarcerated at Arthur Road Jail (from wherein reports of him demanding biryani and attar continue to add insult to injury), then why the lengthy court process?

The trial went on for a year before the special court gave its verdict in May 2010, and that's a time period fairly expeditious for our judicial system, considering the prosecution's voluminous evidence, including more than 650 witnesses: but not so for a city perplexed at how a war so obviously waged, should be shrouded in so many layers of legalese. All eyes are on the High Court whose task it is to determine if the lower court's verdict of capital punishment for Kasab stands or should be set aside. Here's what could happen: the High Court could confirm the death sentence, in which case, Kasab has the option to appeal to the Supreme Court. The High Court could also commute the death sentence to life imprisonment. The Court could even order a re-trial if evidence is found to be lacking.

In two years and three months since the attacks, families have had to move on without closure, candle-light vigils year on year have taken place at the Gateway to remember the departed, a comic book depicting NSG commando Major Sandeep Unnikrishnan's sacrifice at the Taj hotel has been published, Devika is now 12, and hoping for admission into an English-medium school, many sets of grandparents are still stumbling through caring for their orphaned grandchildren, the brother of one of the Leopold waiters killed in the attack was driven to drink from depression, and is now dead too, the wall at Rex Bakery opposite Nariman House finally has a fresh coat of paint after the owners decided there was no more point to circling in red the AK47 bullet marks on the wall, Nariman House is now in the possession of a court receiver after the Chabad movement and Rabbi Gavriel's family went to court over the rights for re-building Nariman House.

Life goes on, as it must. But why should the trial?