Mumbai: Nisha Jamvwal lived at the Taj Mahal hotel on and off over the years, from when she was a child until quite recently. Through this heartfelt piece, she voices feelings of loss for an institution. And for the staff that made it personal. And for priceless treasures dating back to the early 1900s
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Nisha Jamvwal in happier times at Taj's Rajput Suite, with friend Shilpa Shetty |
It is cited in the same breath as the Eiffel Tower, the Place de Versailles and the Buckingham Palace The Taj Mahal Palace Hotel.
For us, in Bombay, 'The Taj' is a greater point of reference than the Gateway of India; she is the 'grand dame' that represents our city. I watched helplessly while she was in flames, gradually, then in spurts and imagined myself killing the terrorists, tearing them limb by limb for violating my city, violating our space, for attempting to decapitate our beloved Taj.
It felt like the Americans must have felt when the twin towers came down. The Taj is not merely a hotel, it is an institution inextricably linked to our lives and to our city's history, an institution we are so proud of, part of, and that we all feel we own.
Tanjore was the destination for every Sunday lunch I have been there in a pram, a stroller and then in a lace party frock. When I was three I went on to the stage in Tanjore, and mimicked the steps of the Indian classical dancer in her 'ghungroos', much to the pride of my doting parents. My father loved the thali and classical dance, so we were supposed to as well.
I remember the waiter who served us then, and was still serving at the hotel until yesterday just older and I guess, one of the senior waiters and yet treating me with the same indulgence that he did back then. Is he still alive, I pray. With the Taj under siege, it is now a battleground for marauding fascists and the beloved structure and its people under attack, our city is at risk of losing a space as close to a living museum that this city possesses.
A museum with a 24-foot Husain painting in its pristine white lobby, with Mughal architectural details of intricate motifs, gold inlay work, and niches from Shahjahanabad, the erstwhile mogul capital. Its intricate lobby domes and panels that complement the calm marble fountain streams, no more that calm.
The atmosphere of the hotel, its restaurants, the fragrance of The Taj, has endured and developed through the years the ornate pillars, the gleaming marble floors, vaulted alabaster ceilings, onyx columns, graceful decorative archways the facets and character have only grown more beautiful over the years.
It all comes back to me today as I watch the Moorish, Oriental and Florentine style décor in my mind being damaged bit by bit, and burning before my eyes! I have lived there, on and off, for extended periods of my life my father had a suite in the wing that has been referred to, at various times in its long history, as the 'old' wing, the 'Heritage' wing and now the 'Palace' wing. I reminisce about the long swims in the pool, surrounded by flower bushes, which today are hiding guests from the murdering terrorists.
I think of the hotel staff that refuses to leave in this time of crisis, that stays on to live and die with the only home they knew, the same staff that has known only a life in service of this magnificent institution that they have created and given life to, the staff that I have seen since I was a child, and that is there until today. Helplessly we watch as our beloved dome that towers above the greater part of the Colaba skyline is shrouded in smoke. I cannot fathom why there is only one fire engine with a weak stream of water combating the raging fire.
I am sitting with Petersson and Eulrich who were staying in the old wing just until some hours ago. They have managed to escape via the kitchen to the Chambers then the back entrance, aided by the staff and their devotion to their Taj.
They were grazed by a bullet and are high strung with panic, 'Nisha, we didn't even see any cops, we were guided totally by the staff of the Taj, they refuse to leave the venue with us though they had every chance and excuse to do so, they saw us to a bus, to our narrow escape, their 'P's' and 'Q's' intact only to go back to their beloved Taj".
The heroes of the hour, they will stay with their family of the rest of the staff and guard their home until they ensure it is safe, they say.
Life has such unpredictable twists and turns, one minute I am planning a wine-tasting dinner at the Crystal Room, and the next praying for its safety. Names flood my mind, those that served us, and many like us, for so many years Ranga, Rathore, Uday, Neville are you safe? Please God look after them all, save them! Please, also spare the ancient hand-woven silk carpets, Venetian crystal chandeliers, the magnificent art collection that dates all the way back to the early 1900s when the hotel was built, the rosewood and ebony and cedar furniture carefully curated over years and years from ancient India, France, England and the rest of Europe.
The dramatic cantilevered stairway is at risk, where the delicate guilded angel with filigree wings would have swung from the centre of the large dome above, in decoration for Christmas, like every year from decades ago; with fragrances of marzipan wafting up through the many hallowed halls that now hide despicable terrorists within them!
They are brutally destroying all the priceless art without a thought! Razas and Padamsees, Nand Lal Bose, Rabindranath Tagore, Turners, Langhamers from their early beginnings, historic works of the progressive artists. Gunshots and grenade explosions break this dark reverie, I live minutes from both the attack points, the Taj and the Trident.
But where is the anti-terrorism squad, why is the army so late in coming, why is our machinery meandering, and so slow to reach, why are we not more equipped to deal with crisis? Why are a handful of terrorists holding such a large nation to ransom?
As a people, we Bombay-ites must challenge and face this terrorism we are gifted with a tenacity that terrorists cannot challenge, and perhaps we have no option but to face it, largely alone. Where are the hot-headed politicians that cause riots and hatred among different states today, when Pakistan unleashes its terrorists upon us? I wish they would come forward now to protect the city, rather than beat defenceless shopkeepers and labourers.
Let us stand tall and not let our city crumble and its landmarks collapse, let us not cower as they desire us to, it is their celebration should we cave in and sit at home. It would be a triumph for us if we were to continue on our path to help lead India into a successful future, a country to be reckoned with. But let us also learn our lessons from our intelligence and security failures and, as citizens and voters, ask for change in our security apparatus, in our defences and our response to threats such as these.
Never has an old saying been more appropriate "Those who do not learn from history, are condemned to repeat it". We have suffered too many terrorist attacks and do not seem to learn that we need a far greater commitment, as a country, to fight terror. Perhaps this dastardly attack on our most precious symbol will awaken us to our past failures.
Let Bombay once again rise like the Phoenix from the ashes, as I am sure will Taj, up and operational at the earliest opportunity. And I shall be one of the first few to visit as if nothing had happened, after all. I shall not succumb to the fear the terrorists would only be too happy to see within all of us. For my part, I would gladly participate in putting our Taj back together, brick by brick if necessary, with the wishes and love in all our hearts.
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