18 Tweets Dec 08, 2023
A 🧵of a few personal remembrances of that evening and the months that followed:
1. My classmate’s father calling up in the evening to speak to my parents who were out celebrating their anniversary: ā€œbeta give them a message that we are all not like thisā€
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2. This very newspaper in our hands on 7th Dec mrng, with none of us prepared for the months of pure hatred fuelled horror to follow. Remember discussing this that evening with friends in the bldg and they dismissing this as events from far away.
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3. We got holidays from school due to curfew being imposed, no awareness yet of how dire the situation was in those pre internet days. Being kept shielded from the DD news broadcasts. Bldg kids arranged halogen lights to play cricket post-dinner in the bldg playground.
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4. From our road facing balcony, completely stopped seeing ppl on the road. Rumours of attacks in the locality. Reality started sinking in. Cricket lights realigned to the bldg perimeter so that we could be ā€˜prepared’. This is a cosmopolitan building- every1 shitting bricks
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5. Overnight, the Catholic neighbors have huge crosses & ā€˜Jesus Loves You’ stickers on their doors šŸ¤¦šŸ»ā€ā™‚ļø, making the ā€˜unmarked’ doors ever more conspicuous! The name boards with names of the occupants on the ground floor are removed and hidden in the society office.
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6. As lookouts, we start spending the nights on the 8th floor bldg terrace (quite tall for those days)- can see fires all around. Entire localities we could ride our cycles to a few days back now complete no-go zones. A sudden maturity in all of us.
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7. The madness abates a bit around Christmas and our aunt’s kids from Bandra East come to live with us- bringing horror stories from Behrampada, Kalanagar, etc. The severed head of the milkman found in their bldg driveway, Molotov cocktails thrown into the slums from the
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MIG & ONGC bldgs, the police firings- they saw it all firsthand. My cousins were scarred, quiet & traumatised- in the ā€˜wisdom’ of those days- sent to our place to ā€˜get over it’. They went back to their home in a few days much the same as they’d come.
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8. New year, we expected school to start- was yearning to see the girl I adored. The riots started again with renewed fury. From the terrace, the fires seemed closer, the rumours heavier. For protection, some ppl moved to societies where their own communities were larger. The ++
cosmopolitan society suddenly wasn’t as cosmopolitan anymore.
9. Money was scarce, those weren’t the days of online orders & deliveries. Ppl helped each other out with food.
10. One night, a building in our lane was attacked, a nearby bamboo warehouse set on fire. ++++
It burned for another 2 days- no fire brigade turned up to douse the flames as it belonged to a Memon. We started organising nightly self defence patrols- I was just fucking 15 years old! We were all kids who moved from cricket & crushes to the reality of mobs & religious
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identity within a few days.
11. My father’s workshop was attacked by the very neighbors he would share lunch with, the same aunties & uncles I would greet and who would invite me for chai when I’d visit that workshop. Dad’s Gujarati friend rushed over to salvage the
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place, luckily it was ONLY LOOTED AND NOT BURNT. We got rid of the place in Feb.
12. The worst seemed over and around Feb, school started again. It was my 10th- we missed two whole months plus experiences we would never have again- school picnics, camp- frivolous joys +++
as compared to the larger tragedy around us, but hard for us kids to comprehend at the time.
13. THE FUCKING ICING ON THE CAKE:
Our SSC boards started on 12th March! We entered the exam hall in a finally calm city, exited the exam hall to a city that was ravaged by ++++
bloodlust & revenge and a terrorist act that forever changed this city in myriad ways that still can’t be summed up. I remember travelling back from the exam centre via empty roads with the fear of violent retribution & retaliation over our heads.
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We kids had a shitload to unpack that year, I don’t think any of us ever did. We had trauma, we faced terror- some of us up close & personal, others like me who were privileged not to get personally harmed. Those times were traumatic to say the least.
For those months- this city that I adore, my karmabhoomi, this city that’s given me everything- was a cesspool of hate, of bigotry, a living hell.
We’ve done well to reclaim it over years, but I see the signs of bigotry rising again. We need to crush these demons before
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they rise again. Bombay / Mumbai (and India) is too precious to be lost to the lunatics, to the fundamentalists, to the hate brigade.
Jai Maharashtra!
Thread dedicated to us kids from the 1992-1993 school batch.

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