Blood on the streets, again!

It seems to be a never-ending story. Back in 1993, about 18 years ago, a series of bombs went off across the city of Mumbai – or Bombay, as it still was then. I was in the city then, doing a little shopping very close to the Stock Exchange building, where the blast tore through the side of the fairly new tower. Not too far away, another bomb went off, blowing a hole into the base of the Air India building, a South Mumbai landmark and part of what is considered among the most expensive real estate in the world. In quick succession, there were more bombs and more deaths – near the Passport Office, near a gas station, at a hotel, in a crowded market. In all, 13 bombs went off. When the carnage was over, the bodies were counted. About 700 people were hurt, some very seriously; about 250 people died.

A few years later, it seemed to be happening again. Between 1997 and 2003, there were 9 reported bomb blasts, with about 29 people dead and 199 injured. Par for the course, some would say, and certainly far fewer than the number killed or hurt in everyday accidents, illness or criminal acts. And then came August 2003, when twin blasts echoed through the mean streets of my city, leaving 50 dead and 150, at least, badly hurt. About three years later, seven bombs went off in local trains, the city's commuter network, injuring 890 and killing 181. This was in 2006.

In 2008, November 26, something happened that shook not just the city, but the world. Terrorists attacked Mumbai, choosing crowded locations to kill and shock; the difference: this time, the targets were elitist enclaves too, two multi-star hotels – the Taj Mahal and the Trident – as well as the main railway station, our historic Victoria Terminus, now known as Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. At the end of the three days that the attack lasted, 166 had died, over 300 were injured.

And now it is as if those black days have come back. Two days ago, on July 13, three bombs went off in my city. The first, at 6:45 pm, blew up at the very crowded Zaveri Bazaar, in the heart of the diamond market. The second, at 6:46 pm, blasted into the evening crowds at Opera House, just outside the main diamond export centre. The third, at 7:05 pm, occurred at the Kabutar Khana in Dadar, near a key railway terminus.

The sites were well chosen – there would be people milling, pushing and shoving to get to their trains or buses to go home, not really noticing anyone who did not belong, who was acting in any way unusually, who carried a high-intensity explosive designed to destroy. When the sound of the pouring rain could be heard again, before the sounds of pain and death echoed through the blood-soaked streets, 18 people had died; 131 were being treated for injuries, some life-threatening. No one had seen it coming; there were no warnings at all, the government insists. Nothing could have been done.

But there is something that could be done, at least now. While various government bodies, parties and politicians debate the who, where, why, what and how of the whole nightmare, we are citizens of India's commercial capital – and we as citizens of the country and the world, in general – can do something to make ourselves and our lives and loves safer. To start with, for the moment, we can all stop blaming each other and the authorities and deal with the situation as it is now, as people have so valiantly been doing ever since that first drop of blood spattered on the ground. We can all stop pointing fingers at terrorist groups – be it Al-Quaeda, Lashkar-e-taiba, Indian Mujahideen, whatever, whoever – and at the government that we think is not doing enough, and take a good hard look at what we may be doing wrong.

Hang on, I am not saying that we are to blame. All I am saying is that we are not helping any by playing the blame game and shoving responsibility on to other people. We need to look at what we are doing – or not, really – to keep ourselves, our surroundings and our city (or cities) safe. We still pack a lot into very little where space is concerned; true, we need to, but there is a neat and clean and SAFE way to do that, too, where there are escape routes, where anything untoward would be noticed, where clutter is not a way of life, but a temporary inconvenience that does, indeed, stay strictly temporary and is cleared out within minutes or at least hours.

We need, regrettably, to be a little less accepting of strangers and what they are doing, not just in the community, or the city as a whole, but as a nation, making sure that those who want access to our world are worthy of existing in it.

There is so much more that we can do, but so little that we actually do. But we need to learn to do it, as much as I need to learn to do it, soon, before the next bomb goes off in this city that is my home.

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Ramya Sarma is a Mumbai-based writer-editor.