War on Terror? I just wear my black arm band..

‘It is not burning there’, says a protester to the journalist , pointing to his head .
‘It is burning here.’
Pointing to his heart.

Maybe that is the problem. We are burning in our hearts, while what we should be doing is coldly thinking with our minds, what we collectively should do next. I am sure our netas are polishing their next impassioned speech, working on a well-worded rebuttal on why they were inside, hiding. Lets use the time to plan what we need to do as citizens. We have a larger enemy. The enemy within. Not just terrorists or extremists . But the larger system that has sold us down the river. And laughed all the way to the bank. But not now.
No Sir, you will not be laughing now. Not now. Not ever.

And we sit in front of our TV systems, as the war ends. We are breathing lighter now. But the fact that its over means less than it should. Its not over , and it will take some time , and some results, before it will be. We watch the story of gritty survivors, unusual heroes, and some who have just crumbled in their grief. And I feel for you. But everywhere, and within me , I see anger . And yet I sit in from of my TV set, like all of do almost compulsively , and mourn.

We need to hold people to account. But how ? Get the powers that be to leave ? Should we withdraw from our citizenship , should we secede from our democracy ? You are right , we cannot . So we are still being held at ransom. Our politicians tell us about the number of terrorist attacks that have been foiled , that we didn’t know about . ( I hear the subtext . ‘ You ingrates’ is what he is really saying ) Oh dear, say I , were we supposed to curtsy and thank you for just doing your job? I wish you had told me that before . I should have been more polite , known the rules, and sent you thank you letters. We are formulating answers , says one, with a straight (honest-trust-me- I-am-like-your-brother) face . What do the people want , anyway ? You are right , I have no clue what we want . But I think it’s their blood.

Politician A , a well known, and smooth gasbag at Delhi speaks with ponderous finality on what needs to be done. The barbs from other panelists are beginning to unsettle him, though. Feeling the Hot seat , Mr A ? Strident Ms J comes in on the TV screen squealing like a cut pig, furious with the media for giving the public a platform for expressing their hatred for politicians. She is right , maybe. Ms J , how does it feel to be part of a an endangered species? Do you feel you now need reservations for your kind ? Do you hate the feeling of insecurity ? Of being backed into a corner , back to the wall ? Do you ? Well then, welcome to our world . Or do you want to up your Z class security to 20 additional , hard working, bleary-eyed 24/7 Black Cats ? Think about it . Your neighbors will be SO envious.

Perhaps I am behaving like a reluctant rabble rouser . I am not apologizing just yet. I am normally collaborative, diplomatic, trying to see the common ground . But I talked to my colleagues and friends today with passion and frustration and rage. With a request to not wipe the slate clean, and move on. Robots move on. We are people need to do something . And I tried . I set up a small group to do a peaceful sit-in at the Gandhi Statue at MG Road. We got police permission, which was surprisingly easy. Time slot of 4 pm to 5.30 , no preparation, no need for press, armed with black arm bands, placards and lit candles -and us. (Close to 5 , we had the addition of a political party protest armed with flags, posters and an agenda, so we did not overstay our welcome, and we left ). It was a drop in the ocean, didn’t change anything , depending on how you look at it . It did not take away the pain , and the anger . But as we lit the last candle for those who senselessly lost their lives, and left it on the stone wall at the Gandhi statue, and as the flames sputtered and stayed , I went away a percentage point lighter .

Mr Karkare’s wife restored our dignity and belief by declining an ex gratia compensation of a crore for her husband’s brutal death . His teenage son had a painful yank into adulthood today , as reluctant and lost , he conducted his fathers last rites. I think we did too.

Mr Karkare , Major Sandeep Unnikrishnan , that doorman at Taj, and all the others who turned up for work that fateful day , just like the rest of us did , and died for no reason , we salute you . God bless your soul and your families.
I wear my black arm band for you , and I grieve.
Rest in peace .