United they stand

In the chaotic aftermath of the blasts, ordinary Mumbaikars offered whatever help they could to the victims and their relatives.

Tired of violence Anupama Katakam

"WHEN we saw dead bodies and people injured, no one was asking `is this a Hindu or a Muslim?' For us these are humans and we must save them," said Arbas Qureshi, who rushed to help when he saw the train blow up.

Qureshi was standing near his shop in Garib Nagar by the Bandra railway station tracks talking to friends. He was looking in the direction of the tracks when he heard a loud bang. He then saw black smoke billowing out of a coach and things flying around. It took a moment to realise that those things were body parts of people who travelled in that coach.

Standing nearby, Salim Qureshi, a social worker in Garib Nagar, also heard a loud bang and saw the smoke. "It had to be a bomb, I said to myself." Qureshi quickly gathered a few of his friends including Arbas and rushed to the coach. "It was full of dead bodies. There were also limbs and body parts all over the place. Some were headless. It was terrible, " he said. The first thing they did was to pull out those who seemed alive and get them to hospital. By that time more men from Garib Nagar had come to help. Many took the injured to Bhabha and Cooper Hospitals. Theycarried the dead to the station platform.

"We must have piled up at least 30 bodies. We also tried to collect the body parts. It was a horrible sight. Some bodies had been flung across the tracks near the hutments that line the tracks. Some policemen were there but were not willing to lift the bodies. Then they prevented us from helping the injured. In the end we just ignored them. We outnumbered them and started helping the injured. We took at least 60 people to the hospital. We also tried to contact relatives of the injured. Some were in a state of shock, some were weeping. It was very tragic," he said.

"A terrorist is just a terrorist. They do not deserve to belong to any religion," said Qureshi. "This is mindless violence inflicted on innocent hard-working people. The terrorists must be hanged. No court cases and life imprisonment. I do not know what they hope to achieve. If it is to cause communal problems they will not be successful. We have been through too much of them in Mumbai in the past. Now we only want peace," he said. Qureshi and the others said their neighbourhood was a little frightened of a backlash. But it looked like everyone was tired of violence.

"We must show we are united. That is the only way we can prove to the terrorists that they cannot carry on pounding us like this," said Mohammed Yusuf, who was also among those who rushed to help. The government and the police must also stop playing into their hands. For instance, as usual they have begun combing operations in Muslim areas. They have picked up around 80 youth from Garib Nagar, 70 from Naupada and 100 from Behrampada. "These are the areas along the railway tracks people rushed from to help. How will those youth feel to be now suspected as terrorists? It can cause problems," he said

Muslim organisations from these areas, such as the Al Ecta Hind Society, have told the police that they will pass on whatever information they get. If they hear anything or find something suspicious they will alert the police. "It is unfortunate but we have to make them understand that we are Indians too. We have to break the misconception that all Muslims are terrorists," said Qureshi.

Following the blasts, Muslim organisations across the city have made a huge effort to help and keep the community calm. For instance, an organisation called the Jamiat-e-Ulema Hind from Malegaon sent hundreds of packets of blood. The Movement of Peace and Justice is holding a peace rally and several other organisations are holding multi-faith meetings to spread peace. Strangely, not a peep has been heard out of a certain Hindu right-wing party. Perhaps Mumbai has seen enough violence. Nobody wants to go down that road again.

Goodman & boys Dionne Bunsha

THE railway track is their hangout. It is the only place where they can sit and chat. As I walked towards the site of the bomb blast between Khar and Santa Cruz stations, a group of boys from the municipal workers' slum was sitting comfortably on the tracks shooting the breeze. They live a few feet from the railway track. They were the first to rush to the rescue.

"Around 200 people from here ran there to help. The Muslim boys in the slum opposite were the first to get there. We got to know a little later. But there was no shortage of people helping," said Mangesh Gamre, a municipal sweeper. "We took out the bodies. People from the building ahead threw blankets so that we could carry them. We put them into autorickshaws and asked them to take them to hospital. If the drivers refused, we beat them up."

"The police only arrived one hour later and forced us to leave," he added. People living in the slums close to the railway tracks are often seen as a nuisance by authorities and commuters, but they were the first to come to the rescue.

After removing the bodies, they started helping stranded commuters who were walking back home along the tracks. People from the chawl distributed water and biscuits. They guided them towards the road. "We did the same thing last year when there were floods. The water level in our homes was waist high, but we were out on the tracks to help those who were stranded. Our pockets were empty for a few days because we collected all the money we had to help people," one of them said.

They took me to meet the other rescue team in the Milan Subway Gaonthan, on the opposite side of the tracks. "It happened right in front of me. The top of the compartment flew here. For half an hour, it felt like we had lost our hearing. Buildings shook. My brother-in-law fell off his bed with the impact. I saw many people jump off the train in fright, and that is how they broke their necks or limbs," Herrol Goodman, a driver, recounts.

Herrol was part of the rescue operation. "We also collected all the money and mobile phones in one blanket and handed it over to the police. One person was trying to take a cell phone. I slapped him," says Herrol. "My name is Goodman, so I like to do good work and live up to my name," he smiles.

Priya Dutt, the local Member of Parliament, arrived later but the crowd asked her to leave."They always come late. And then create problems. If VIPs come, the roads get blocked and people cannot reach the hospital in time. The police also have to look after them and cannot do their work," said Goodman.

Mumbai's residents are angry but seem to have wisened up. This time, they are not going to fall into the trap of blaming one community. "We want to tell the people who did this to come out on the streets and face us. Don't hide," said the boys from the municipal chawl. "Everyone is saying that only one community has done this. But that is not true."

Most people were angry with the police. "There is a railway police quarter near the station. Not a single person from there came to help," said Kanti, one of the boys.

"When we sit on the tracks, they come to push us off. But when you need them, they are not here."

As the boys escort me to the station, they stop a little while away, scared that they will be caught once again.

Damned no matter what you do. That is life on the edge of the tracks.

Injury & Trauma Anupama Katakam

HOLDING his bleeding nose, which had almost fallen off, 23-year-old Pravin Bhatt ran to the exit of the station. A man pushed him into an autorickshaw and took him to hospital. On the way to the hospital he passed out. Now that he is safe and recovering he really wants to thank the good Samaritan who saved his life, but cannot remember him.

Pravin can only recollect hearing a loud bang and then being hit very hard on the nose by a sharp and hot piece of metal. It took a couple of moments for him to realise that his nose had almost been chopped off. While holding it in place, his only thought was to run. He was fortunate to have someone take him to hospital. Pravin works as a delivery boy transporting shirts to shops across the city. He was on his way from Jogeshwari, a suburb in Mumbai, to Marine Lines in the city to deliver a consignment. While he was walking down the stairs leading to the train platform he got hit by shrapnel from the bomb.

As a slightly physically challenged person, Pravin cannot speak very well. His brother Kamlesh told Frontline: "Pravin would not have survived had it not been for all those helpful people at Jogeshwari. We are very grateful to these people. I do not think a handicapped person could have saved himself in all that chaos." As a safety precaution, Pravin carries a list of phone numbers in his wallet. It was this list that helped social workers at the hospital contact his brothers.

"When I heard about the blast, the first person I thought of was Pravin because I know how much he uses the trains for his work," said Kamlesh. As Pravin does not carry a phone, and in any case the lines were jammed, they had no idea how to reach him. After two hours they got a call from the hospital. "I was so grateful to see him alive. There were people outside the hospital who were desperately searching for their loved ones. It was a horrible sight."

Pravin is the third of four brothers. He lives with his mother and Kamlesh, who has a wife and child. Unfortunately, he was born with slow speech and learning disabilities. Kamlesh said Pravin had sat at home doing nothing, after getting a basic education. Five months ago Kamlesh found him a job as a delivery boy.

Kamlesh, who works as a sales assistant in a shop said Pravin was doing well at work and was becoming a more confident man. "I really hope this incident does not traumatise and scar him emotionally. The trains are so safe in Mumbai. That is why we let Pravin take this job. It has taken Pravin a long time to get this far. He was looking happy after many years. Besides, the family is not very well off and the added income was helping.

While being interviewed, Pravin indicated that he was feeling a little scared about going back to work. But he was keen to try, as he wanted to get over the fear because he liked his work. He did not know what a terrorist was, but he said who ever did this, it was a terrible thing to do.

According to Dr P.P. Kasturi, the doctor in charge at R.N. Cooper Hospital, Pravin's injury is serious. "He will recover but he needs a lot of medical attention just now and we are trying our best to provide it. I cannot assess the psychological damage just now but I am sure it will be quite bad. After all, this is a trauma case and even the most stable-minded would find it difficult to cope," she said.

Cooper Hospital got about 45 patients with serious injuries on the day of the blast, most with burn and orthopaedic injuries. Typical, said Dr Kasturi, of any bomb blast. In 2003, just two years ago, the hospital treated people from the January 27 blast near Ville Parle station. "It feels like the same thing is being repeated over and over again. How much more can the people take? We are also under pressure and do not have the resources for these tragedies. It was nearby medical stores who came to our rescue that night by supplying unlimited amounts of free medicine for the victims. That's the spirit of Mumbai. But how much more can the city take?" she said.

Residents rescue Dionne Bunsha

WAJID ALI is considered a nuisance. He is a pavement dweller on the busy Tulsi pipe road, which runs adjacent to the Western Railway track. But on July 11, he was a saviour.

Immediately after the blast, he rushed to the station. "We saw bodies all over. There were no police around. People were shouting for help. So we went and pulled them out," said Ali. "I got a stretcher from the station office, brought them to the entrance and sent them to the hospital. Then, we picked up all the pieces of the dead bodies. I remember picking up two hands. One man's body came flying right to our doorstep. My head is still reeling. I have not slept or eaten anything since then. The images keep coming back to me." The police arrived one hour later, after all the residents nearby had cleared out all the injured. "If they had come sooner and arranged for ambulances earlier, some people might have been saved," said Ali.

During the crisis, everyone chipped in - the pavement dwellers, shopkeepers, hawkers, residents of nearby buildings. Many shopkeepers who helped a lot refused to talk about it, despite prodding from friends who praised them. They were afraid of being questioned by the police. Instead, they pointed us in the direction of the Ram Mahal cooperative society just opposite the station.

The residents of this building spearheaded rescue operations. First to the scene were the security guards. "We ran to the station and saw a man whose entire torso was split open and he was holding his chest and running and he suddenly collapsed in front of me. I called two people to help me lift him. We put him in a taxi and asked the driver to take him to the hospital," said Santosh Pande, one of the guards. Soon, many other residents also reached the station.

"People were jumping out of the train in fright. They were killed on the tracks when other trains passed over. We had to carry people across two platforms and there were no stretchers. So we used one of the compartment doors to take the bodies. Everything was red, sticky and smelly. At that moment, you donot know what you are doing, but you just act," said Lawrence D'Souza, a merchant navy sailor.

"We stopped taxis and tempos and asked the passengers to vacate so that the injured could be taken to hospital. It was raining heavily, which made it more difficult and chaotic," he said. The police arrived an hour later, after all the work had been done. "They were not allowing us near the platform, but they weren't doing anything either."

Residents formed a human chain on the road to direct traffic. Tarun Jain took out his van and made ten trips to Bandra, ferrying people to a place where they could find autorickshaws to take them home. Young boys made several trips on their motorbikes to local stores to buy boxes of biscuits. The women borrowed huge vessels from a local Udipi restaurant, tucked in their saris and started making tea. They set up a table on the pavement distributing biscuits, tea and water. Young boys served biscuits and tea to people walking on the road, to those in buses and cars stranded in the traffic. "The police wanted us to remove the table from the pavement. But we could not stop helping, so we shifted the table closer to our gate," said Lawrence Francis, one of the residents.

"We continued distributing food until 11 p.m., when all the cups ran out and we could not get more since all the shops had shut down," said Francis. "We had to keep doing something or we would have broken down after seeing such a disaster."

Finally, at 3 a.m., Lawrence Francis went home. "I switched my cell phone off. Then, I suddenly started crying."

Missing cousin Anupama Katakam

ASHOK BIRWADKAR knew his cousin Sunil Birwadkar took the 5.54p.m. local train from Churchgate station to his home in Malad every evening after work at a private forex company in the Fort area. As soon as he heard about a bomb explosion on this train near Matunga station in the first class general compartment, his heart sank. "I was hoping maybe Sunil was held up with something and did not take that train," he said.

The family immediately tried to get in touch with Sunil but phone lines were jammed. As the hours rolled by without word from Sunil, Ashok Birwadkar decided he had to search for his cousin.

Ashok and some family members spread out across the city and went to all 19 hospitals that were treating the injured and keeping the dead for identification. His cousin's name was not on any list, injured or dead. It was much too chaotic on the first day to get any information. But they kept searching through the night. It took hours to get from one hospital to another. And then several hours to negotiate with hospital authorities to let them search.

The next day they began again, often going back to hospitals to recheck.

Sometimes a VIP visit to the area prevented them from entering the hospital. In some hospitals the injured were in different wards. At some hospitals it was not difficult to gain access to the mortuary and wards, and at others they had to run around seeking permission.

"We just did not know what to do because the name was not coming up anywhere. I am sure Sunil would have had some form of identification on him. But it was becoming hopeless and we were beginning to despair."

Following the unsuccessful hospital search, they went to every police station in the vicinity of the Matunga blast and registered a missing persons complaint. They even sent messages out on television. Unfortunately, nothing came up. Two days after the blast there was still no sign of Sunil.

On July 13, Ashok Birwadkar decided to make another search at Sion Hospital where he heard there were still some unidentified bodies. He had already been there four times. "Finally some guard took pity on me and around 1.30p.m. let me in to the mortuary. I found Sunil. They told me he died a few hours ago." Sunil had languished in the hospital for two days. He died eventually of head injury wounds he suffered from the bomb blast.

"The worst feeling is that no one was by his side," said a distraught Birwadkar. "I cannot understand how we could not find him." A social worker at Sion hospital said they might have missed Sunil because he had a head injury; he may have been kept in the intensive care unit longer or he could have been operated upon when his relatives came looking. If he was in a ward that was treating only neurological cases his relatives would not have been told. He must not have had any identity on him so the chart would have just listed him as Male - 37.

Sunil's wife Surekha finally tookher husband's body home on the afternoon of July 13. "We are devastated and extremely angry right now at the hospitals, government and the police," said Ashok, "I can only hope they find some resolution to these attacks of terror."

It would be difficult for anyone to find a missing family member or friend. When this correspondent went to a few of the hospitals, the scene was nothing less than horrific. For instance, at the entrance of Cooper Hospital, a white sheet was put up. Behind that lay a long row of dead bodies. Some were intact, some were headless, others were limbless and one had the jaw blown off. A policeman later carried the jaw and reattached it.

As soon as people identified the dead, their names were listed on a board outside. Relatives could be seen staring in shock. A father looking for his son gave the nurse who was updating the list the name of his son. She had just written his name among those dead, as a friend had identified the body an hour earlier. All she could do was hold the old man's hand. Even someone as seasoned as her was too emotional to tell the man his son was dead.

Volunteer Day Dionne Bunsha

IN the chaotic crowd outside the hospitals, the Good Samaritans outnumbered the injured and their families.

There were volunteers to control the volunteers. At the gate of Bhabha Hospital in Bandra political party volunteers helped with crowd control and set up a help desk. People queued up outside offering to donate blood. But the hospitals did not need so much. Later, Sion Hospital put up a board saying, "No blood needed. Please register your name and we will contact you." The Red Cross and King Edward Memorial Hospital sent additional blood but they did not need it. "We had sufficient [blood] in our blood bank. Eventually, we used only four units of blood. But 80 people showed up to donate," said Dr Seema Malik, chief medical superintendent.

Outside the gate, neighbourhood groups put up free tea stalls. A five-star hotel sent food packets for the injured, but the hospital authorities told them to distribute it to the relatives. Local medical shops refused to charge for the medicines that the hospital prescribed. Representatives of pharmaceutical companies came offering supplies.

At Sion Hospital, a phone company had set up a van so that people could make free calls. A non-governmental organisation (NGO) offered counselling for those suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. Several charitable groups had their representatives outside the wards offering different kinds of help. A businessman stood at the information desk and helped people find their relatives, arranged for ambulances and paid for medicines, spending Rs.2.75 lakhs in cash in one day.

After a day of chaos, Bhabha Hospital was almost empty in less than 24 hours. There was only one patient left. Most had been discharged or preferred to go to private hospitals after the government announced they would get free treatment anywhere. Many survivors suffered temporary or permanent hearing loss. Others had shrapnel wounds, broken limbs and other injuries.

Even behind the scenes in the casualty ward there was no dearth of help. "Though so many emergency cases came in at once, we were totally prepared. Interns and medical students also came forward to help. In fact, at one time we had to send them away as there were more doctors than patients," said Dr Ajay Ovhal, a resident doctor in Sion Hospital.

"People were not angry or blaming anyone. They were just there to help," said Dr Ovhal. "How can the Readers Digest survey name Mumbai the rudest city in the world? That is nonsense. It is the most humane."