This is another date among the myriad black-letter days in recent Indian history. I was watching all those gory and sinister details that were continuously coming on the television screen. Eyes filled with tears, my mind was occupied with thoughts of mothers who were probably glued to the TV screen hoping to see the relieved faces of their children, waiting for them to come back home, albeit traumatised, but safe and sound.
How did they feel when they saw their children return safe? That moment must have been more joyous and exciting than the moment they came to know that they had given birth to a healthy baby. Indeed, it was the rebirth of their children and what better gift can they ask for from God!
My heart was crying for the children of the journalist Sabina Saigal Saikia, for Moshe, and for so many other kids who lost their parents in this horrific tragedy. How they must have been waiting for the phones to ring, to speak to mummy! How desperate but helpless Sabina must have been in the last moments of her life to speak to her children at least once, and bless them for the last time, to have a safe life!
For some strange reason, I thought about the mother of the sole captive terrorist, Kasab, also. Is she cursing herself for giving birth to such a child or is she blaming her upbringing or poverty? Whatever must be going through the mind of this mother whose child is being pointed fingers at, by the world, for the heinous crime he has committed?
Her eyes must have been moist with tears because it was her hand that rocked the cradle of this child as well.