As I watch and read the news, posts and feeds on all that’s happening at Mumbai, my thoughts have finally reached a blank. I am not able to react anymore. I started with shock, then anger and frustration to sadness which stayed a long while, and now I don’t feel much.
I read a large number of posts related to Mumbai, and I am unable to comment. I try to pen something. I start typing. I erase. I start again. It doesn’t seem right. I try yet again, and nothing happens. Words seem hollow. There’s a fat lump in my throat that’s refusing to budge. I have slowly over the weeks retreated into a shell, and this event has completely sealed any trace of escape. These are friends, bloggers, ones whom I communicate on an almost daily basis, who are venting, empathizing, reaching out and forming a community within seeking companionship and solace through this haze of incomprehension.
Yet I remain silent.
I have nothing to offer but my presence, a silent invisible presence, but it’s there, I am here.
The day will be filled with meeting friends. There are potlucks lunches and dinners planned. I am not up for socializing. Yet, I know I will go. The talks will all be about Mumbai. There will be excited shocking clucking of tongues, and I can only hope that the gravity of the moment is not washed in the frivolity that will no doubt sneak in on us.
I do know one thing though. We will survive. We just will. Hope in tenacity is a powerful emotion. One that cannot and will not succumb to anything else known to mankind.