I was one of the candle holding, slogan shouting angry citizens of Mumbai walking in the peace march on Carter Road on November 30th. I almost didn’t go for the peace march- and now I wish I hadn’t. Why? You might wonder. It was, after all, a noble activity to engage in on a Sunday evening that did not seem fit to spend watching a movie, or catching up with friends. Partly out of fear that a few more terrorists might still be lurking around the corner, but mostly out of solidarity and a sense of it not feeling like the ‘right’ thing to do.
The peace march was truly an uplifting experience. We walked the length of Carter Road. The sea-side stretch of open road, once so familiar, seemed to hold a different meaning that evening. I joined the walk somewhere in the middle of the procession. A well meaning stranger looked at me and handed me a candle, which she then offered to light for me as well. We exchanged a reluctant smile and continued to walk along with the other 500 odd people who had decided to spend their Sunday evening recognizing the transience of life itself and paying their respects to those who had lost their lives in the terror attacks on Mumbai on 26/11. We shouted slogans evoking the greatness of our motherland, our city, and our armed forces. We placed the candles on the pavement in front of the local police chowki, to symbolize our respect to those who give their lives to save ours. We then sang Jana Gana Mana and heard a few speeches from well-meaning, like-minded citizens.
The candlelight peace march was, in fact, a really nice, meaningful way of spending that Sunday evening. It made me feel one with my community, reassured me that I wasn’t the only one experiencing an inexplicable cocktail of anger and sorrow and gave me a sense of hope and belonging I desperately needed at the time. Well, that doesn’t quite explain why I now regret having participated in the peace march. I might need to digress a little to explain why.
To begin with, let me introduce myself. I am your average 20 something year old who was born and bred in Mumbai- who finds herself caught somewhere between being a Bombayite and a Mumbaikar. While anyone who has experienced the dilemma knows exactly what I am referring to, those who are not familiar with the personality of the city might not completely comprehend the difference between Bombay and Mumbai- hence the identity crisis one faces when trying to draw allegiance to either being a Bombayite or a Mumbaikar.
A Mumbaikar is someone who has an unglamourous 9 to 5 job, and spends his or her evening cooking dinner, watching the news, or catching the latest television saas-bahu soap. A Bombayite usually shares these routines with a Mumbaikar- but there’s more. We Bombayites drive faster cars, live in bigger homes, dine at nice restaurants, and party at the new “it” nightclubs. We usually know one another as most friend circles tend to overlap, allowing for barely 2 degrees of separation. We buy tables at clubs and think nothing of a drink costing one-third of our domestic help’s monthly salary. We shop, not because we have to, but because it’s fun. The words China House, Gucci, Blue Label, Audi, and Cosmopolitans all mean something to us. The latest cell phones may usually be found clutched dearly in our hands and a couple vacations a year are a necessity not a luxury. It’s a good life. And there is nothing to apologize for or feel guilty about.
Except when we face a crisis like 26/11. It is our fault. We should feel angry- not at the politicians but at ourselves. We should apologize and we should most definitely feel guilty. Why? Because we have neglected public service and allowed our country to be ruled by people we now choose to shout slogans against. We have been in a long, silent slumber when it comes to the public life of our great nation.
Why are candlelight vigils dangerous you ask? Because Bombayites were shaken out of their slumber and awoke to see a grim reality- the state of their nation. The alarm bell being the fact that the terrorist attacks took place at places we frequent and those bullets could have had any one of our names on it. We took to the streets, gave interviews on television, wrote articles in newspapers, and may be even changed our status and profile pictures on Facebook. Now we feel like we have done our bit. Our quota for voicing anger and sparking debate was met. My fear is that once the candles burn out, the peace marches end and the human chains lose their relevance, Bombayites will fall asleep once again. The peace marches were nice; they gave you a sense of hope and belonging. But what makes me wish I hadn’t participated in it is the false sense it gives me of having ‘done my bit’ when I know I haven’t.
Image Source: Boston Globe, www.lkadvani.in
Really well written. And hey, welcome to the blogworld [:)]
ReplyDeletethats a superb piece. I really enjoyed the bits about the mumbaikar/Bombayite.
ReplyDeleteand your analysis was correct.....the south mumbai elite did feel satisfied with the candlelight marches, and voting percentages fell.