First full-fledged down pour of the season and Mumbai was left reeling. My weekend plans stood canceled as they involved a bit of travelling. I decided to cool my heels at home instead.
Late afternoon, a news came trickling in about shootout of a veteran journalist. Given the violent times we live in, I would not have given the story, a second hearing. But few keywords caught my attention. Apparently the shootout took place near to my house; on the road that I take daily. Another of such tragedies that I have come up close. The last being when an air hostess leaped off the building I lived in.
These incidents do leave a sad feeling. However as cold as it may sound, they don’t affect us anymore as far as personal security is concerned. I didn’t leave the building after the said suicide. I will take the same road tomorrow. It becomes just news. And then the calls, “Heard a shootout happened where you live. Were you there? Did you see anything?” and other such queries.
In another hour or so I had almost forgotten what had happened. I was just waiting for the rains to subside to get on with the evening. But they never did. I decided to go for a stroll to the park nearby. No sooner had I stepped out of my building did I see dozens of media satellite vans lined up. I wondered why. Then I remembered the shootout. My building is adjacent to the police station and whole media was there to cover the story.
I abandoned the idea of the walk and came back to the apartment. It was time for my evening snacks.
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