According to Indian media reports, an unknown group – Deccan Mujahideed was behind these brutal attacks on the city. Apparently, the Deccan is a region in southern India that was traditionally ruled by Muslim kings. Many quarters have said that this attack was deliberately planned to hit the international targets which are frequented by foreigners and the top Mumbai elites. Two years ago, bombs exploded during the rush our at one of the train stations. This time, target was the Taj and Oberoi Hotels.
If there is such a thing on caste for hotels, indeed the Taj and the Oberoi Hotels would be placed in the highest position. High profile (local) businessmen dressed in fine wool suits accompanied by their beautifully dressed, fair skinned, perfect English speaking wives are the usual sightings in these hotels. They all walk with such fine grace only stopping to chat with acquaintances of their same kind. As they pass you, that soft sandal wood scent follows the breeze. Once they are done with their mingling or meetings, they call upon their drivers and within minutes the obedient servant, dressed in the pressed white uniforms will drive right to the entrance of the hotel. Having opened the doors of the Indian made cars – the Ambassador, they are entrusted to deliver their Maam Shahabs safely and happily home or to other destinations of her calling.
Ahhh…that’s the kind of luxury lives these Taj and Oberoi frequenters lead. A few meters away, just outside the borders of the hotel, the colors are different, the smell is pungent, the pace is a lot faster, the skin is a lot dryer and even the teeth is less white (if there’s still any teeth left in the poor soul). This is where the real India lives and breed – all the other many millions of the population. Little homeless children crammed the shantytowns while the sick and very old would just die on the streets underneath their cardboard homes. Side by side but such a world of difference.
Indeed some of the sights of India could be somewhat difficult for one to swallow. I’ve been to India a few times. When I tell friends that I’m going to this colorful place on earth, they don’t believe me. They’d say I’d never survive that place, so smelly, dirty, overly polluted and populated like India. As a matter of fact, I had doubts if I could survive the trips. Nonetheless, I managed to pull through each one of them.
Truth be told, I love this place. Call me a hopeless romantic, but there’s just so much romance here. What’s with that great love of Shah Jahan for Mumtaz, the discrete love affairs of the Moguls Kings and his secret ladies, the land owners and the little peasant girl…the list is endless. Love and passion is depicted in their architecture, literature, song and dances. The practices (and positions..heh heh) of Karma Sutra, ayurvedic healing and even Yoga, put emphasis on love, peace and harmony with oneself. Hence, why the bloodshed, why the sadistic acts??
It gives me chills to the spine thinking about the dead and injured in Mumbai. Human lives should never be wasted just as such, Muslims or no Muslims, militant or no militant. It could have been someone so dear to you, it could have been members of our congregation or even the guy who lives down the road. None of such beastly acts is worthy to man and neither should we condone them.
As I look out from my window this morning, my condolences goes out to the families of victims who perished in the condemned blast. I wonder if it’s too much to ask for – the act of trustworthiness, forbearance, mercy, compassion and loving-kindness towards all peoples.
Peace to the World….