Sunday Mid DAY reader Dr Mohini Roy on the attacks she's seen on Mumbai since 1944
Sunday Mid DAY reader Dr Mohini Roy on the attacks she's seen on Mumbai since 1944
I was less than two years old when my parents, with four young daughters, left Sindh (then in India) to settle in Bombay for better prospects. For the first nine years, we lived in Ramchandra Building situated between
Metro cinema and Crawford Market. Three siblings were added to our family. My family was fairly well-to do; my sisters and I all studied at the J B Petit High School for Girls. My father always possessed a car, a rarity in those days.u00a0
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I celebrated my 80th birthday here last August. My late husband once remarked that I was one of the lucky people of this world who continuously lived in the same city, locality and flat and could drive past my old school which still stands strong.u00a0u00a0u00a0
The terrible events of 26/11/2008 took me back to the worst disasters experienced by me from 1944:u00a0u00a0
1) April 14, 1944:u00a0
I was 14, and had just completed my matriculation. I remember that afternoon vividly. The whole family was at home and we had just finished our evening tea. Suddenly three-four deafening explosions ripped the air in quick succession.u00a0 The ground shook violently, cups crashed to the floor and we stood in shock. What was that? Our first reaction was that it could have been an explosion in the laboratory at nearby St Xavier's College, where my cousin was supposed to be. Dad rushed out to get him back. He met him at Metro Cinema, speechless with fear. At home, we comforted him with hot milk. It was now 5 pm. A friendly police officer instructed my father to usher all residents out into the maidan where now stands the new wing of Bombay Hospital. Rumours spread. Some said the Japanese had attacked Bombay (World War II was on) and that more explosions would occur. We were all frightened to death. At 8 pm, the officer asked us to go back home as they got the all- clear signal. That night the sky was fiery red and flames were seen rising up. My sister Shanti, who later rose to become the first lady police sub-inspector, then inspector and then assistant commissioner of police, was so scared that she insisted on sleeping between two siblings. Next morning, my sister Shilloo and I went to investigate; our enquiries lead us to Crawford Market, where a cordon of police officers chided us and commanded us to return home. At 11 am we were again asked to sit in the maidan as more explosions were expected. But apart from gossip, nothing happened and we returned home after three hours.u00a0
Later it came to light that the cause of the explosions was a ship called Fort Stikine, anchored at the docks. It carried ammunition, gold bars and cotton bales. A steward smoking a cigarette had carelessly thrown the stub on the ground. The cotton bales caught fire, thus igniting the ammunition. Many brave firemen, policemen and citizens lost their lives and gold bars were reported to have flown into some houses around Crawford Market and Bhindi Bazar.u00a0u00a0u00a0u00a0
2) The devastating earthquake of 1967:
At 4 am one morning, we were rudely awakened by the shaking of our beds. We realised it was an earthquake of high magnitude. We didn't know what to do. The electricity had gone off. Some residents ran out onto the road into the maidan. Others stayed put and prayed. We were very scared as an earthquake had never occurred in Bombay. By God's grace, the day passed off smoothly. Again at 7 pm, we rushed out to sit in the circle near Metro Cinema as more tremors were felt. We were afraid of the oncoming night. Our beloved Metro stood upright and erect as though reassuring us that God was there for us and we returned home after three hours.u00a0u00a0u00a0u00a0
3) In December 1971:
We were in the same house. Every evening, we had a compulsory semi black-out, which quickly became a full black-out at the sound of the siren. By experience, we knew that the switching off of the radio stations meant that the danger was close. That was the case one evening at 6 pm, when the siren malfunctioned and local residents were observing the semi black-out. My sister Shanti learned from the control room that Bombay was under full alert and informed us on phone. My husband rushed to every flat in the building to caution them that there was danger looming. Soon planes were heard flying overhead. He shut all doors and lights and made the family hide under a table in the passage. We were terrified. I said a prayer aloud, and we were relieved when a couple of hours later we heard the all-clear siren.u00a0 Next morning, we read in the papers that enemy planes had invaded the skies over Bombay, but were driven away by the Indian Air Force. Two citizens died from the resultant cross-fire.u00a0
4) In December 6, 1992:
We were filled with a sense of shock and shame. The demolishing of the mosque initially gave way to sporadic riots. Later, in January 1993, the city was ripped apart by the worst communal riots. The atmosphere was filled with fear and mistrust, a feeling alien to the post-Independence generation. My brother Shyam and his family who were visiting from the US and staying at the Taj Mahal Hotel left for the airport six hours before their reporting time. No cab would take them to the airport.u00a0 Finally one agreed at triple the cost.u00a0 Throughout the journey to the airport they witnessed gory scenes and buildings burning on either side of the road. They followed an army truck and finally reached the airport after three hours.
5) In March 1993:
Bombay experienced multiple bomb blasts at 12 locations. South Bombay bore most of the brunt. However, the brave citizens went back to normal life soon after. That event marked the beginning of open animosity between Hindus and Muslims. Skirmishes kept occurring periodically with bomb blasts in buses and other public places such as the Gateway of India. In 2006, the city witnessed multiple blasts in the local trains which are the lifeline of the working Bombayite. All this further increased the animosity. It assumed a personal dimension when my daughter wanted to purchase a flat in Pune. The deal fell through because the builder said that no flat would be given to a Muslim. Being secular, she identified herself with the Muslims and so was not allowed to book the flat.u00a0
6) November 26, 2008:
10.00 pm, a peaceful South Bombay, with citizens travelling home from work or engrossed in their business and entertainment meetings, was in for the rudest shock of all. 10 terrorists made their way into the city via the high seas and held Bombay to siege. Television cameras captured gory scenes of empty roads with people clamouring for shelter. They were in our neighbourhood, and soon we heard the sound of gunshots and people running. At 1 am, my daughter and I went down and secured the gates of our building, which otherwise always remained open and welcoming. The shocking events that unfolded left us numb with shock. We could identify with each location and each person; be it a baby wanting to be born but pushed back into the womb with the mother gagged to prevent her screams of pain, our beautiful Taj and Oberoi burning and charred or people running for cover. Baby Moshe, a Jewish child who was rescued heroically by his nanny, was orphaned.u00a0 Several families were ripped apart. This tragedy will leave behind the worst scars of all for a long time to come. Bombayites came together on the streets in a show of unity to mark the big change India badly needed. That movement will, and must go on if we are to keep our city and our country safe.
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