Deja Vu: A bomb a day
So I just log on to facebook at around 7 in the evening after a pretty uneventful day and get a dozen status updates from nearly everybody on my friend list. The subject is old, the people's reactions are old, the feeling of numbness is old, the images on the tv are old. Hell, even the frantic messages and phone calls from friends and family is all the stuff deja vu is made up of. I am hardly even watching the tv; what to watch? The glass and the debris, the policemen and their chaos, the wild speculation, excited newsreaders and journos...
Every single thing has been canvassed long back. Every single emotion I have already felt and this time I am not surprised, not ruffled.
Later on, the same status updates and tweets continue to pour in. They are the same outraged, cynical, sarcastic messages with the usual target: the hapless government and ever hated politicos. People call upon each other to overcome this tragedy. They have set up online help desks and some tweet-happy people are busy twittering shout-outs to the stranded souls in the 3 target zones (Zaveri, Dadar and Opera H). Clever remarks about Obama and the eternally-hated Ajmal Kasab are doing the rounds.
"The spirit of Mumbai", once said with great pride and meant to mock the perpetrators of this endless, mindless violence, is now uttered in cynical and mocking tones. Only now, we mock ourselves and all the others who came up with this phrase. Once, it signified the self-righteous, idealistic population. Now we just laugh bitterly at ourselves.
Even as I ,myself, status-update and tweet like a zombie on auto-pilot, I wonder if ever there will be a time when I will again be unfrozen out of the helpless, casual acceptance of these terrorist events.
The blood splatters on my face and I don't even blink. I just stand till the rain washes it off. For now. The stains will remain behind, to be darkened by the next farcical tragedy.
Every single thing has been canvassed long back. Every single emotion I have already felt and this time I am not surprised, not ruffled.
Later on, the same status updates and tweets continue to pour in. They are the same outraged, cynical, sarcastic messages with the usual target: the hapless government and ever hated politicos. People call upon each other to overcome this tragedy. They have set up online help desks and some tweet-happy people are busy twittering shout-outs to the stranded souls in the 3 target zones (Zaveri, Dadar and Opera H). Clever remarks about Obama and the eternally-hated Ajmal Kasab are doing the rounds.
"The spirit of Mumbai", once said with great pride and meant to mock the perpetrators of this endless, mindless violence, is now uttered in cynical and mocking tones. Only now, we mock ourselves and all the others who came up with this phrase. Once, it signified the self-righteous, idealistic population. Now we just laugh bitterly at ourselves.
Even as I ,myself, status-update and tweet like a zombie on auto-pilot, I wonder if ever there will be a time when I will again be unfrozen out of the helpless, casual acceptance of these terrorist events.
The blood splatters on my face and I don't even blink. I just stand till the rain washes it off. For now. The stains will remain behind, to be darkened by the next farcical tragedy.