Seven days of sorrow, anger and defiance

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Seven days of sorrow, anger and defiance

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It's been a week since the serial blasts brought the city to a screeching halt. MiD DAY decides to revisit the three spots Opera House, Zaveri Bazaar and Dadar at the exact time when the blasts had struck

'They attack slyly And steal away'
It was ironically picturesque a table covered in white cloth, with lit candles casting shadows over all those who had gathered at the spot, to remember those that they had lost. But the lull was broken by angry voices, each demanding justice.

Mukesh Soni (24), said, "I was a couple of lanes away when the blast took place. Tears rushed to my eyes when I arrived at the spot.

Rakshant Rawal (32), a textile merchant and patron of the erstwhile Khau Galli, bitterly said, "The citizens are like worthless worms in the rain.

No one spares a second thought as they are trampled. Our government has treated us just like that. Our hard earned money is used to give protection to snakes like Qasab, while we are nothing more than sitting ducks."

This correspondent also met Mushir Rehman Nagore (38), and his father Shabeer, whose shop lies directly opposite the blast site.

While Nagore sustained injuries on his leg, his father suffered wounds to his left temple. Despite their physical difficulties, they turned up to work. Unable to relive the horrific experiences, Nagore said, "I feel nothing but anger, since the blast."

'Politicians have power, But no responsibility'
It was business as usual for the politicians, each busy trying to steal the limelight from the other, paying their lengthy tributes to the blast victims. Amid the din, however, this correspondent sought out those who had lost their loved ones in the blast, or their livelihoods to the blast.

Hiten Parmar (27), who survived the explosion last week, had returned to the spot, to pay his tribute to those who weren't as lucky as him.

Opera House

People stop near the barricades to look at the spot where the bomb went off

He said, "Last week at this time, I was living a nightmare, seeing my acquaintances besmeared in blood, their body parts scattered all over the place. While I am grateful to have survived, my hackles are raised by the farce conducted by these hypocritical politicians. They have power, but no responsibility."

Ramesh Gupta (72), a newspaper vendor who was near the blast site said, "I went to the Mantralaya to protest the banu00a0 imposed on hawking. The government should not treat us like terrorists by ostracising us like this. We lost loved ones too."

For Vishal Shah (32), a diamond merchant, the scars on his left arm are visible reminders of the day that he almost lost his life. He too returned to the spot, to honour the memory of the
victims.

'They'll come back for their shoes'
Shashikantu00a0Kamble (40), a cobbler with his workshop next to the Hanuman Mandir bus stop, was there when disaster struck. He still waits for customers who left their shoes with him right before the blast.

"I didn't want to come back to work. But I have three children and have to provide for them. I can still feel the tremors. All my customers ran helter skelter. I am sure they will come to take their shoes," he said. Dayal has still not recovered hearing in his right ear, since the blast. He shrugs, "I hope I recover soon."

Kabutarkhana, Dadar

Shashikant Kamble sits at his shop near Dr Antonio Da Silva High School at Kabutarkhana

Deepak Singh (35), a watchman at a jewellery shop, had taken his employer's pet for a walk, when the bomb exploded.

"I was unconscious after the blast, and later learnt that the dog was seriously injured. I returned to work on Friday. I don't find Mumbai a safe city at all. My family wants me to come back home to UP. Thank God I am safe."

R Misquitta, trustee of Dr Antonio da Silva High School, led school kids on a peace march to fight terror. He stopped to say, "Thank God, the kids had the left the school or else it would have been disastrous.
u00a0
This march is to give out a message of solidarity." School kids held candles as they marched together, in silent protest of the massacre.

Text BY Maleeva Rebello, Eesha Patkar and Urvashi Seth