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Eyewitness account: A date with terror
Published on Sat, Nov 29, 2008 at 11:26 in 
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Late in the evening on Wednesday, November 26, 2008, Mumbai eventually got its very own 9/11. Watching room after room at one of the most majestic and stately symbols of the city, the Taj Mahal Hotel, go up in flames it was hard not to ask the same incredulous and seemingly naive question, "Why do they hate us?"
11.30 pm: I start out at the other side of town from Colaba, at Vile Parle east on the western express highway, where the wreck of the taxi and the fresh red stains on the concrete were being white chalked by the investigating team: It is believed the taxi was heading towards the international airport loaded with RDX when its consignment blew up, killing five including the two passengers (suspected terrorists) and driver. Vijay, a 17-year-old who lives in the hutment by the road, recounts a terrifying sight. He was just sitting down to dinner when he heard the blast. He went out to see and a few steps out of his front door, was greeted with the dismembered head of one of the victims. Vijay has seen his share of calamity during the floods of 26/7/05 and then again during the train blasts of 11/7/06. He states matter-of-factly, this is another date with terror he will never forget.
12.15 am: There are rumours of a hold-up at a suburban hotel, but it turns out to be a hoax call, which nonetheless gets the hotel and the police to sound a red alert in the area. In the meanwhile there are unconfirmed reports of shootouts and casualties in south Mumbai. After a few minutes of deliberating, I jump into a cab with three photojournalists from three different publications who were heading in that direction. Expecting to be stopped at every bend, we keep prepping our taxi driver on do's and don'ts in case the police stops us. Between non-stop phone calls from colleagues with updates on the escalating battle scene, we caution the driver to slow down to a snail's speed the minute he sees a red light and stick to the narrow, quiet bylanes instead of the main roads as far as he can. We warn him to stay with his cab at all times. We were reassuring and preparing ourselves for whatever lay ahead. He simply nodded and drove as directed. We made it to Haji Ali without seeing a single police car.
1.45 am: At Haji Ali, we encounter the first police blockade. They tell us in no uncertain terms that it is dangerous to carry on and demand that we turn back. We turn left towards Nana Chowky and continue towards town. Just then we receive news of a gun-down at Chowpatty. We already have reports that ATS chief Hemant Karkare, additional CP (eastern region) Ashok Kamte and top encounter cop Vijay Salaskar were among those gunned down in an ambush by two terrorists near Azad Maidan a short while ago. The Mumbai police were out to get those who had taken out their best. At Sukh Sagar, the taxi driver hesitates a brief instant, waiting for some indication that he should turn left. The silence in the taxi is loud enough a sign for him to turn right. He parks at the side of the road and we cautiously approach the carnage in front of us. The Skoda carrying the terrorists who were believed to have killed the Mumbai police top brass is untouched at the front. The bullet holes instead have shattered the glass at the rear. Cartridges, shoes, bloody notes and other debris are being collected for evidence. The cops there have blood stained clothes but they also have their revenge—both terrorists dead. "We will not let our officers' death be in vain," says the officer on site. Girguam is also where, in the stillness of the night, watching Mumbai police turn armed weapons at approaching vehicles, we get a real sense of the magnitude of what is happening that night to the city. The city has been scarred before. The city has been gravely wounded before. The city has bled before. How bad is it going to be this time around? Beyond imagination? Most certainly. But then, didn't we think that in 1993? In 2006?
2.30 am: We return 15-minutes later from the scene under Girguam bridge to our taxi and again, it is silence that prompts the taxi driver to continue down Marine Drive towards the Oberoi Hotel. We approach Oberoi around 2.45 am: OB vans occupy one side of the street. Ambulances and fire brigade vehicles are on the other side. Joining the media personnel flocked outside the hotel, stories are exchanged on who has been where and seen what. "CST station was the worst. An AK-47 on rampage is the worst nightmare to happen in Mumbai," says one reporter. No one has any confirmed reports on what exactly is happening inside the hotel. Yes, there are terrorists holed up there. Yes, there are hostages. Firing. The fire brigade personnel are huddled in a group on the parapet at Marine Drive. The medical team is waiting, disposable gloves and masks on. Anxious friends and relatives, guests staying at the hotel who were returning from previous engagements are being calmed by authorities. Shocked cops from the ATS are coming to grips with the loss of Hemant Karkare and others.
3.30 am: By now, our party of four has dwindled to two. We decide to head towards the epicentre. Again to our incredulity, there is no police presence from Marine Drive, down Vidhan Bhavan near Churchgate station until we reach Regal cinema. Our taxi driver says he will park near the museum, insists he will wait for us and for the first time issues a softly spoken, "Be careful."
3.45 am: We walk down Colaba Causeway and take the first left from Regal cinema to head towards the Taj. I have walked down these streets a few hundred times over the years, at various times of the day and night. I have lived at the adequate Moti Mahal hotel here for a brief month. I have spent many an enjoyable and eventful evening at Leopold Café. The walk from Regal to Taj has never felt so heavy at each step of the way.
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