Unseen colours of life

Two years ago I survived an attack on my life at Leopold Cafe. Within a span of three days I discovered the finest people in my life and an angel. Saw humanity, friendship and hope in action. It changed my whole perspective of life. I realised life is indeed beautiful if you want it to be. There is nothing in your control except your own mind. You can travel in a jam-packed train while immersed in beautiful thoughts or fight with the pushy co-passenger.

You may enjoy the small cutting chai with absolute strangers in the hackneyed by-lanes of Parel and may not like the finest liquor in the unreal atmosphere of an expensive Lower Parel restaurant. It’s all about the state of your mind. Life is kaleidoscopic with beauty lurking at every other corner. You just need to have the time and interest to observe it. Life is not fast as many say. It gives you time to understand yourself and others. It is we who run away from the wisdom and openness for what even we don’t know.

We think we compete with the world, with others. We struggle day and night for little niceties of life. The truth is we miss millions of niceties every other moment by putting ourselves under an undue pressure psychology. We must respect time and the power of the unknown, because we don’t have any control over them. But our mind is our own. Our thought process is our own. Our dreams are our own. People who love us are our own. And there is no perfect day or way to start life in the best way.

The very next moment is the best moment of ours.

After two years of the 26/11 attacks I feel wealthier for I have real friends and I can own millions of little good things in life just by smiling, writing, painting talking and listening to others.

Following is a quote I have always tried to remember after 26/11.
“We should all start to live before we get too old. Fear is stupid. So are regrets." - Marilyn Monroe

Let's pray for very innocent human being who have lost their lives and every angel who has tried to keep hopes of humanity alive across the world. Amen....

(*PICTURE: I made this acrylic-on-canvas work named "The Sorrow of Mumbai" in September 2009.
I want to portray the pain and grief of this mega-city accompanied by tranquility indicating hope and stability. The work was presented to the organisation I was working with and is presently at the Reuters News Room in Mumbai)

26/11 Survivor's Account: Painting -"The Sorrow of Mumbai"

I made this acrylic-on-canvas work named "The Sorrow of Mumbai" in September 2009.
I want to portray the pain and grief of this megacity accompanied by tranquility indicating hope and stability. I dedicate the painting to my organization for the effective care it takes of its employees across the world in times of crisis.

26/11 Survivor's Account: Good News 6-The Company

"You are known by the company you keep". Quite literally I think I’m in good company.

Company means my workplace my coworkers and my bosses across the world. Till the day I was injured I knew this company is very dedicated to its professionalism and serves its employees the best it can, but as it happened with me I could know the truth.

We had instances of people being given special armored vehicles for news coverage; they have been airlifted from conflict zones all at the company’s expenses. I used to think this must have been a mechanical affair. But I was wrong, the whole company was worried, the leadership and coworkers across continents and departments were worried.

I received hundreds of well being messages, e-mails and personal visits. Besides Charlotte, Rosemary , Phil, and Ramya, along with other editors based in Mumbai personally met me at the time of crisis.

The global editor David and chief executive Tom mentioned their concerns taking time out of the Thanks Giving holiday in 2008.

The company also tried providing the best medical services it could have been also a month’s off to recuperate. Though I was out of the crisis with simple medical surgery the gesture was heartwarming.

A year after the gesture continued I received well being messages from my editors.

26/11 Survivor's Account: Good News 5- Friends: The gems I have discovered

I never thought of living life without friends. I have been gregarious all my life, but never did I have to discover who’s a real friend or not. The events of 26/11 taught me everything. More than the survival I was happy with the discovery of the gems who were always with me.

The night Mumbai was attacked and by coincidence I was injured my friends and coworkers most of them journalists were shattered. Most of them stayed awake in the night or tried their best to reach me breaking the security cordon across Mumbai. My colleagues and friends across the world at different time zones were trying to find more about me.

My younger sister, the only relative in Mumbai, was well protected by my friends and their families during the uncertain night. At the break of the dawn, my friends Feroze, Geetha, Ankur, Piyush, Debiprasad, Mehul, Anup, Keshab, Abhishek, Dhananjay, Abhineet assisted in my smooth transition to a private hospital, which brought me a speedy recovery and prevented any possible infection from the bullet wound.

Rama, Narayanan, Arshad, Sumit, Devidutta, Swati, Nandita, Rouhan, Samrat, Shubha, Himangshu, Krittivas, Archie, Raghu, Shubhra, Trupti, Radha, Hari, Durgashis, Balaji and many others made me feel good through their constant assuring presence both physically and over phone.

Hundreds of friends also reached me over social networking sites like Facebook and Orkut. And believe me every wish had healing power and made me positive.

The days of healing and surgery was special with friends always around. Geetha, doing special cooking for me everyday and Feroze doing the extra work to get back early in the evening.

Mehul bunking office in an impossible situation for being present with me.Narayanan and Piyush bringing me delicacies of south and north India, and Ankur zipping around in his car for every small need made things so good for me.
The instances of Feroze, the coolest man I have ever seen, fighting with the government hospital authorities for discharging me and Geetha fighting with the insurance company will alway be remembered.
Despite mentioning only a few instances I have vivid memory of the gestures everyone made during time and will remain me forever.
Wish Lord everyone earns such great friends.
I think knowing Kishor and my friends is the greatest happiness I have in this life so far.

26/11 Survivor's Account: Good News 4 - In Mumbai for hundreds of victims, there are thousands of volunteers

Injured and helpless I was, yet conscious and watchful of the movement around. With hundreds of victims pouring in there were thousands of volunteers ready to help. From carrying, cleaning and fetching water, donating blood there were thousands of good souls around to help the victims.

Troubled they look yet confident of their self-taken responsibility and the attempt to let people live another day. That was overwhelming.

I remember the volunteers escorting the ambulance I was carried in while being transferred from St George hospital to JJ Hospital.

The act of young medical students was also worth mentioning. I remember a moment when two thin and teenage girls were trying to carry an obese old man to an emergency ward in absence of as stretcher how they one of them fell, but immediately stood up and ran to the emergency.

Students got water bottles from their own hostel rooms to serve the victims. I distinctly remember the hospital staff putting their best efforts to help the victims while the politicians were obstructing the work.

Most of the staff was ignoring the local politicians and most of them along with volunteers were shouting to the politicians to stay away from obstructing their work.

(The above photograph is sourced from V Nayak's collection on Flickr.com)(For more phograph pool on 26/11 you can visit http://www.flickr.com/groups/mumbai_terrorism/pool/)

26/11 Survivor's Account: Good News 3 – Charlotte Cooper

I never talk about my office people in my personal blog but this is a one-off event where humanity was involved, and the story was about human spirit and needed to be told.

Charlotte, the then Mumbai bureau chief of the news agency I work for was somewhere in the roads of south Mumbai, when the attacks were taking place. Daring as she was always, drove on the abandoned and terror struck roads of Mumbai to reach me, a fellow colleague and a fellow human being.

While the Police was cautious after anti-Terrorist chief Hemant Karkare and other senior police officials fell to terrorist’s bullets, Charlotte, her husband Peter and driver Francis drove across and reached St George Hospital.

She waded through dead bodies to finally discover me among the survivors. Her presence lovely, renewed my confidence and belief in the good news.

While I grew more confident, she got back to her job of reporting the horror to the world. Peter and Francis helped injured ones with water, connected them with loved ones using their phones.

26/11 Survivor's Account: Good news 2- The Anonymous lady doctor

As the policeman was trying the control room and the hospital staff debating my possible gangster status, I was writhing in pain and Kishor was requesting for an early treatment for me.
“What happened,” an authoritative yet hopeful female voice came from behind. After some discussion she said,” Let’s treat him we are no one decide his profession.”
She along with others removed my shirt and pressed below my shoulder touching my wounded ribs. A copper coated bullet fell off. She moved gracefully around assuring the staff helped me bandage, saline and injections. “It was mayhem in CST,” came the sleepy policeman running.
A group of policemen came into the out patient’s department ward of St George hospital where I was sitting. There were a few dead bodies and many injured lay on the floor all breathing heavily.
The lady ordered all the doctors, nurses and medical students to come into action. I could watch at least one policeman stopped his breathing before being treated. I found my way to a ward and shared a bed with three others. Holding my saline I could see a small child almost breathing his last on the same bed I was, a bearded old man was crying “Oh Allah-the-merciful,” all the while.
The night unfolded more of human tragedy, helplessness, cries, prayer and silence. I was breathless, (which I later discovered was due to the broken ribs pressing against my swelling lungs) silent and largely blank minded unable to acclimatize with speed with which the world around me was changing.
In between the graceful middle-aged lady doctor came to me and said, “You will survive for sure.”
Kishor, in the meanwhile was helping fellow victims in the Mumbai attack.

26/11 Survivor's Account: Good News 1- Kishor Pujari

The best news for me was Kishor Pujari, the twenty-year-old shopkeeper on the Colaba Causeway, who took me to the Hospital. Blood dripping, breath choking, I was aware of the goodness Kishor was showering upon me. The effort he made in finding a taxi and rushing me to the hospital, the fight with the hospital authorities who took me for a gangster and were hesitant in treating.
Despite the chaos, police scrutiny, Kishor stood by me. After recovery, when I asked him what prompted him to help me, he said, “I just thought it’s my duty to keep another human being alive, whoever he may be.” Kishor, born and brought up in a small village in southern Karnataka state said it was his mother’s teachings that that forced him to act naturally during the occasion.
Kishor confessed, he also thought I was a gangster and had a gun with me like most fellow shopkeepers around. The Police questioning at the hospital was more about why I was shot and why Kishor brought me for treatment. There was no hurry in treating me though I was the first to reach the St George hospital.
I faintly remember the sleepy looking policeman, whom the hospital staff summoned for recognize whether I’m a gangster or not. He said, “Madam isko to nahi janta tab bhi puchhna padega control room (Madam I don’t know him..will have to ask the control room)
It was a piece of a puzzle for the thin exhausted policeman and hospital staff that had associated clues happening elsewhere in the city, which was to soon answer their questions.

Remembering 26/11: The dark side and the good news

I want to dedicate my postings on November 26, 2009 to every innocent life lost on the same day a year ago.

Every dark event in life has some positives attached to it. Like the discovery of great human beings around you, true character of self, development of sensibility and absence of fear. The events of November 26, 2008 provided me with similar experiences.

I was lucky enough to survive the horror, unlike many fellow human beings and discover my share of goodness in life. I sometimes feel writing the goodnews about my survival is selfish considering many others didn't see the good news. But I think I want to make a point how good human beings exsists on this earth irrespective of ethnicity religion and circumstances. I would like to contribute this positive piece of literature to every fellow human being who is hopeful about this world.

My 26/11 survivor's account

Never have I used any of my professional write-ups in personal space. But this has to do with a survivor’s story, one that has to be told clearly, objectively and needed scrupulous editing. Sourcing the story as was first published on Dec 10.

REUTERS WITNESS - Back from the dead in Mumbai
Wed Dec 10, 2008 5:03pm IST
By Sourav Mishra
MUMBAI (Reuters) - It’s not often that you get to read your own name in the obituaries. Three days after armed militants went on the rampage in Mumbai, newspapers and TV channels included my name in the list of more than 170 people who lost their lives in the carnage.
They were wrong -- obviously.
But I had a tough time fending off phone calls from anxious relatives, friends and colleagues who thought I had succumbed to my injuries.
Yes, I am alive and well. And painfully aware that my first trip to the Leopold Café might have been my last.
I was there on that unforgettable Wednesday night, deep in conversation with two French acquaintances -- Kate, a filmmaker, and her friend Clementine.
As we drank beer and tucked into prawns and chicken tikka, we talked of Kate's debut Hindi film -- a comedy about a girl in Paris who wants to marry a man with a moustache.
An hour later, as Clementine suggested we order more beer, a diner at a nearby table caught my eye. I remember thinking he looked uncannily similar to actor Johnny Depp in the 'Pirates of the Caribbean' series.
The next instant, his table was smashed and the diner was flung aside. I heard what seemed like a blast and something hit me hard on my back. I panicked and ran out through the nearest door.
Out on the road, I touched the wound and found it was bleeding profusely. I could hardly move my right hand. I shouted for help but no one paid any heed. Tried to move ahead but couldn't and fell down.
As I lay there, I felt someone grab hold of me and help me to my feet. The Good Samaritan hurried me towards a nearby cinema where we clambered into a taxi and rushed to the hospital.
I could still hear the gunfire in the street and my companion told me there was some sort of gang war going on.
The doctors at the hospital were reluctant to admit me but the stranger beside me begged them to take me in. As I removed my shirt and pressed against the wound, a copper-coated bullet fell out.
The woman treating me smiled and uttered the three words I'd been waiting to hear - "You will survive".
The 60-hour siege of Mumbai continued and not everyone was as lucky as I was. More people were brought in as the minutes ticked by.
The man next to me had two bullets lodged in his stomach and was writhing in pain. A weeping mother clutched her dead child. Two policemen were dead and another was battling for his life.
"Only Allah can save us now," whispered someone on my right, a man who had been shot in the chest.
As I began to come to terms with our ordeal, I turned to the man who had rushed me to hospital and asked his name. Turns out Kishore owns a small shop near the Leopold Café. He had already informed my friends, dialling a number that I had mumbled earlier.
My bureau chief in Mumbai, Charlotte, was among the first to find me at the hospital, weaving her way through a row of dead bodies before she spotted me and heaved a sigh of relief.
My ribs hurt and I was feeling breathless but I wasn't badly hurt.
I was alive. I was safe.
Later, as local politicians made a beeline to the hospitals, I was glad to see none of the staff or the victims paid them much heed. The old man at the X-ray machine shouted at one of the leaders, asking his supporters not to obstruct hospital staff.
I was moved to a private hospital on Thursday morning where I was told a rib fracture had prevented the bullet from puncturing my lungs. I underwent surgery to prevent spreading the infection.
And what of my companions at the Café?
I felt like a coward when I thought of Kate and Clementine. I had left them behind. It's hard being a hero when you are busy trying to save your own life.
I learnt that Clementine had been shot in the arm but it wasn't serious and both my friends flew to France soon after.
This week, I got an email from Kate. She says she'll back in India soon.