World | India
Mumbai blasts: Reporters log
Gulf News reporter Sunita Menon and photographer Reggie Varghese are in Mumbai covering the aftermath of the terrorist attacks on the rail network. This is their reporters' diary.
- Published: 00:00 July 14, 2006
Gulf News reporter Sunita Menon and photographer Regi Varghese are in Mumbai covering the aftermath of the terrorist attacks on the rail network. This is their reporters' diary.
Friday, July 14, Sunita Menon: I had just finished with my interview with personnel from the Railway Special Task Force at the Churchgate railway station when I heard someone calling out loud.
"Madam! Madam!"
I looked around but could not find anyone. "Here! Behind you, madam..."
I turned and saw a young man in a distance. He waved and beckoned me to come closer.
The man was in his late 20s, a little over 5 feet in height, dark, with neatly kept hair. He was wearing a black and white chequered shirt and black trousers, and was holding a pen.
"Yes, what can I do for you?" I asked.
"Please don't get angry with me, madam. But are you from the media?" he enquired in a trembling voice.
"Yes I am."
"Television or Newspaper?" he enquired again.
"Newspaper," I said.
"Here in India or overseas?" he asked.
"My newspaper is called Gulf News and it is published in Dubai," I said.
"You see madam, I am trembling and I am very afraid to talk to you," he said.
Placing a hand on his shoulder, I laughed and said: "Why? Do I look that scary? Tell me, what do you want?" I said in Hindi Mumbai style.
"You speak Hindi in Mumbai style. I am so happy to hear that. Are you from Mumbai?" he asked.
"I spent my childhood here," only this time I answered in Marathi, the official language of Mumbai.
Hearing me speak in Marathi, the young man smiled and extended his hand.
I shook his hand and told him that my mother is a true blue Maharashtrian (a Mumbaite).
"Oh! No wonder! So you are half Maharashtrian. No wonder you do not speak fluent Marathi," he said.
"So what was it that you wanted to tell me?" I inquired.
"Madam please do not make fun of me but can you tell me how I can become a journalist like you? I am very much interested in Journalism. It is such a good job where you make people aware of the happenings in the world. Do you think I can be like you?" he said.
"Why not. You can and will definitely prove better than me. Just be confident of yourself. Write down what you think of the recent bombings in the language you are well versed in. Type it down neatly and mail it to newspapers. It works," I said.
"Ok, Madam. I will do that. All the best to you," he said, walking back to his seat on the platform.
I was left standing in the middle of a crowded Churchgate railway station.
All that talking made me thirsty. I headed straight to a vendor selling bottled cold water. There, another young man who wasted no time in introducing himself as Govind Rathore, approached me.
He said: "Madam, I know you are from the media. Can you tell what I do to help the media when incidents like the bombings takes place?"
"Oh! That is indeed a good question. You can inform the media how it happened, when it happened, what happened and where it happened."
"I want to help the media. They are doing such good job here in Mumbai. They are standing with the people and not with the government," he said before leaving.
As I walked out of the Churchgate station my eyes came across something written in Marathi on a huge billboard across the street. It read: "Salaam Bombay ... Salaam Bombay."
Thursday, July 13, Sunita Menon:
As I got down taking the over-bridge on to the Mahim station a stench of decomposing blood gushed in to my nostrils making my stomach churn. My eyes scanned the railway tracks. I saw nothing unusual. On the platform there were men, women and children all chattering away to glory. No one seemed affected by the stench, except me.
As I reached halfway on the platform, the intensity of the stench grew and I was on the verge of throwing up. I decided to enquire and approached an elderly man. "What is this smell? Where it coming from?" I asked.
Without uttering a single word the elderly man pointed to a sheet of white polythene sheet that lay under a railway platform seat. "The police and the municipal authorities must have forgotten to take it away," I heard the elderly man voice from behind me.
"What is in it?" I asked, not taking my eyes off the white sheet that had patches of dried blood over it. "Pieces of human flesh and blood," he replied.
Looking at the station clock he said: "The train is late today. I saw it myself. Do you want take a look as well?"
Before I could say no he tried to flip open the sheet using one leg. I could see a piece of rotten flesh peering through. It was almost black in colour. I stood there numbed, just staring at the sheet. It was only when I felt a hand on my shoulder that I turned my head.
A crowd had gathered around me. They all had their eyes glued on the sheet. "What to do? This is what the bombers have left behind. But look around you madam. The platform is full with people who are on their way to work," said the elderly man to me. "Life goes on. This is Mumbai a city which never stops living," he said before he walked away.
A couple of minutes later a packed local train pulled at the station. My eyes searched from the first class compartment that was the made the targeted by the bombers. I expected it to be empty. But it was packed with office goers. I lingered on the empty railway platform. Surprisingly the smell of the rotten flesh and blood did not seem to bother me anymore.
Do you have a comment about Sunita's reporters log, or a question you'd like to ask her? We welcome your feedback. Email us at feedback@gulfnews.com
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