It’s been 20 years since Bombay
witnessed the riots of 1993. It was my first encounter of life threatening
violence as a small boy. The Bombay riots were in full flow in the terrible
months of Dec 1992-Jan 1993. Until then, life for me was fun with friends and
family intertwined with homework, play and school. But, it all changed in those horrible 2 months
as the full blown impact of violence destroyed the last shreds of innocence. I have hated seeing blood
all those tender years. But the terrible display of it on TV channels and news
with people cutting each other was and is still etched in my memory and
vividly. The religious nature of the riots changed for ever the religion
distinction in my mind . Ever since those past of 20 years, Mumbai has been
haunted by the past in the form of
Bombay Bombings(1993), the serial blasts in the trains( 2003 and 2006)and the
26/11 terror attacks(2008) which can be perceived as acts of retribution.
Bombay is a metropolitan city
which harbors the dreams of many. It’s a
fast city where work ethics are appreciated and display of political
connections largely frowned upon. It’s a place which houses an astonishing 2
crore people and from diverse backgrounds. It’s a largely plural fabric and
caste/religion based discriminations are largely avoided.
This all changed in a matter of 2
months as we watch our city burn. The violence was incited in 2 phases each
lasting a period of 1-2 weeks. The December 1992 phase was largely due tothe
retribution sought for the demolition of the Babri Masjid. This phase lasted
exactly a week and fizzled out. The blood shedding was largely restricted to
certain areas in Mumbai and did not spread to the fringe areas like mine. I was
in a good convent school and we had quite an appreciable number of Muslim
students. The schools closed down in the wake of violence and we are quite
enjoying the holiday during those turbulent times. It was a daily dose of fun
and frolic minus the homework for us.
However, things turned from bad
to ugly in the second phase of the violence in Jan 1993.The second phase was
clearly incited by the local politicians. They wanted revenge for the earlier
killings and incited mobs to go on killing spree. The wounds of the first phase
were still fresh and what followed was a systematic destruction of life and
property. Swords, knives and all sorts of sharp objects were mobilized . Hindu
and Muslim mobs went on a rampage and started
lynching each other as sworn enemies. Torching
of humans became common and destruction of property omnipresent. This time
around even fringe areas like mine were not spared.
My locality had a Hindu majority with a few
people from the minority communities. We were a community of 36 building spread
across around a 75-100 acre area. Each building was geographically distributed
and there were no common gates. Hence, each building was forced to look after
its
own security. Till that day, the
sharpest object I had come across was a scissor and a sharp knife. And then
suddenly I saw swords, axes and all weapons being gathered in my building in
those early days of January. The very elders whom I have laughed with and
played along were disturbed, red eyed and fearful. Then, one of the buildings
had an idea and they installed an alarm bell in each of the resident's house.
Along with this was also the start of the night vigils as the violence escalated
in the mid January phase. I still remember that we were all inside the house by
9 pm. The elders would keep a watch through out the night. I also knew the
place where the weapons hidden. One night my buildings had a power failure. At
this juncture, for the first time the
alarms went off. I had read in a book that you could taste fear and my young
nubile mind never had grasped the idea. But, that very night I knew what it
really meant.As a complete chaos ensued of shouts, yells and running feet
throughout the building, I never knew when I started crying. And then I
realized I wasn't alone.AS my mom put a reassured warm hand around us 3
children, the elderly men folk went in search for the reason why the bell went
off. This scene is a photographic memory in my head and surfaces every time but
lately has disappeared. It wasn't until an hour later that the elders returned.
My uncle had a mark on his hand because of steel rod being hit. It turned out
they were only two people carrying iron rods and ran off seeing the site of so
many people. There were one or two more false alarms but then life limped back
to normal in my locality. The swords disappeared in time and the alarm bell as
I came to know later was removed.
Bombay was never the same city
after the violence of 1993. The event changed our lives forever and segregated
the Mumbai demography in ghettos. The Muslim population shifted to the vicinity
of areas like Mumbra, Kalwa and Andheri.
Amjath, Yasmeen and their family moved to Mumbra. Theirs was the worst
plight as they had stayed with us for a decade and long. The violence had badly
affected them and though our society besieged them on to stay they never
thought of that as an option. Bombay also never repeated the communal violence
again. We have been rocked by bomb blasts and enticements ever since. But, the
plural fabric of Bombay stood strong and did not let revenge happen again.
Under a strong vigil, we have built a new city, a new resilience and an undying
spirit called the "Spirit" of Mumbai. And ever since that fateful
month of January 1993, I have also avoided a like sounding alarm in all my
houses. There is no pointing in bringing back a ghost of 20 years.....
