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Amita Amin Shinde stayed at the Taj Tower after it reopened since Terror Wednesday
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we cant thank you enough: A banner in the lobby of the hotel salutes the martyrs who sacrificed their lives to save the lives of several others | THE check-in time at the Taj Tower was 7 pm on Sunday, the day it reopened for the guests after the November 26 terror attacks. I was to stay there as a guest. For a Mumbaikar at heart, I had mixed feelings about it the pain of staying in a hotel that saw 31 innocent lives fall to terror bullets and the joy of sharing space with the staff and guests who are adamant of not bowing down to terrorism.
First glimpse
As we drive closer, I get the first glimpse of the Taj tower. The heart skips a beat. The tower wears a defiant look, aided by the lights illuminating the windows on every floor, just the way it was before. Just the way it should be. Only that evening, they seem to rely a message that of hope, of grit and of bouncing back to life.
The entire area around the Taj is off-limits for all. All the bylanes leading up to the hotel are barricaded. Only guests are allowed. We are asked to take the back lane circling the heritage Taj Palace to arrive at the tower building porch. As we pass the old Taj, an eerie silence greets us. It's lit from the outside, but the insides are dark. We circle the hotel to reach the entrance it feels like a pradakshina, a befitting homage to those who died here.
In the lobby
I step out of the car near the lobby entrance and instantly TV grabs of the man clad in white shirt falling to the terrorists' bullets flood my mind. I shudder, and look up into the eyes of a tall darban who gives an I-know-that-feeling half-smile. Undoubtedly, he understands the pain better.
At the entrance, luggage is put through a scanner, and guests asked to walk through the metal detector. Finally, I step into the lobby. It's filled with a soft golden light. I look around to see Indian and foreign guests, a lot of in-house security personnel and a handful of media guys. As I pass them, most are discussing the terror attacks.
A few guests are staring at the windowpane overlooking the waterfall on the other side of the room. I realise why when I see the plaque with names of all the 31 people who died at the Taj. And there, next to it, is the Tree of Life. Everyone is taking pictures. I join in.
I spot some moist eyes, some sad tones and talk to a couple that has lost a neighbour in the terror attack. And yet, in the background kids are running around the lobby playfully, oblivious to the pain around them. It's a happy distraction.
The reception welcomes us with a tikka and a garland. When asked if they were on duty during the attack, most nod their heads with a half smile. On our way up to the room, our escort tells us that they are trying to put the attack behind them, with a brave smile. But her eyes give her away.
In my room
I miss meeting Karambir Singh Kang, the General Manager of the Taj Mahal Palace & Tower, at the lobby. But in the room, his signed note awaits us. The card states his sincere gratitude for "your unstinted support during this difficult time". Three names on the plaque jump out of the memory all three Kangs. They were Mr Kang's wife and two children who fell to the terrorists' bullets. It brings a lump to the throat.
The note states that the room charge for the night of December 21 would be contributed to the Taj Public Service Welfare Trust. The lump in the throat now hurts.
In Shamiana
We try Shamiana for dinner, but it's booked for the evening. So, we go for breakfast there. It's here the terrorists' sprayed bullets killing guests and staff. A young waiter grudgingly remembers the night. "Everything happened so suddenly. I lost two of my colleagues that night. But we managed to get many of the guests to safety. I feel upset, but what can I say, the show must go on," he says as he clears our plates.
In Nalanda
At Nalanda bookstore, the mood seems light. I step in. The mood changes as soon as I mention the attacks. I am told that bullets shattered the glass pane of the shop opposite. The bookstore staffers say they hid in the basement. One of them recalls that a waiter friend of theirs, who had stepped out of the basement just after serving them food, was gunned down. Uncomfortable silence hangs in the air.
From the rooftop
I step out and take a lift to the rooftop Souk. It's closed, but I am signalled in through the kitchen. I walk in to discover a totally burnt kitchen. Upset, I want to know if the terrorists hit this place too. I am told it's just short circuit. The view from Souk is amazing. A waiter says, "See madam, see the scene. Isn't it amazing? Just looking at it lifts my spirit." I think, "So true."
By the pool
Back again on the ground floor, I walk towards the pool through the Shamiana. Foreign tourists are lounging by the pool in the afternoon sun. As I settle down, a junior manager of Shamiana comes by to chat. She says happily, "We did the most business last night. All the restaurants were competing with each other. But don't tell anyone." Her smile seems genuine. I secretly say, "Touchwood!" |
