B
etween March 12, 1993, and July 11, 2006, there were eight terrorist attacks in Bombay, most of them with large quantities of explosives blowing up in multiple locations simultaneously, killing hundreds of people and crippling many more. In terms of body counts, the first—that’s the one in apparent retaliation to the demolition of the Babri Masjid—was the worst. Yet, 26/11 had a far greater impact on both the nation and the world. Was it because two of Mumbai’s archetypal landmarks were under siege, the most crowded railway station in the world, the CST World Heritage building, and the Taj Mahal Hotel, built partly to cock a snook at our British masters? Was it because the foreign press covered it non-stop while pretending most of the time that foreigners, especially those from the US, UK and Israel, were the only victims? Was it because Mumbaikars had never felt so helpless, frustrated and unprotected? Was it because the state government, the Mumbai police and the Union home ministry proved irrefutably that they were clueless, utterly at sea and had sat on their fat, corrupt butts doing the infamous bugger-all? Even after all those years since the mafia boss Dawood Ibrahim took it upon himself to be the left hand of God and blew up Mumbai to teach the country a lesson? Or was it because, coming right down to it, they didn’t really give a damn about the city and its citizens?