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

Sunday MiD DAY reader Dr Mohini Roy outside Metro Cinema Pic/ shadab khan

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

At the age of 11, I had my first encounter with tragedy. My two-year-old sister died of diphtheria. I remember tearfully looking up at the sky to see if I could get a glimpse of her beautiful face. Soon after this, we shifted our residence to a flat in a newly-constructed building called Gulistan behind Metro Cinema, where I have continued to stay all my life. It is now called Karamchand Mansion.
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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