03:02 (25 page)

There was a lot of murmuring going on, and while it was clear a large number of people were electrified at the prospect that those who had attacked us were going to be challenged, there was a lot of nervousness at being caught in the crossfire. Suri, for one, was back to his grumbling self.

‘General, it’s good of course if the government is able to get rid of these terrorists and bring things back to normalcy, but what is this talk of fighting back? We are not soldiers.’

I had been listening in silence but now I interrupted, trying to keep my voice as even and polite as possible. ‘There must be a good reason why the government is asking us to help. Perhaps all their equipment—like our electronic stuff—is not working. We are not soldiers, but we need to defend what is ours.’

‘Defending our homes is one thing,’ Suri said, ‘but going out of our way to seek out trouble is quite another. I would propose we just sit tight and wait for the government to act.’

‘Mr Suri, I’ve always said we shouldn’t attack the airport. We don’t have the numbers, weapons or training to do that, but if the armed forces are mounting an attack and need any help, then we should be willing to contribute.’

Mr Sinha intervened, trying to defuse the situation, since it was clear that our group was divided down the middle between those who were willing to take a more active role in any action that followed and those who preferred to stay out of anything beyond defending their homes.

‘For now, all discussion is moot. We have no idea what action is planned or indeed how we can help, but we do need to decide how to respond to one request from the government.’

Suri looked at him bewildered, and Mr Sinha explained. ‘The part about flying the tricolour. I suspect it is not just an appeal to our patriotism. If air strikes are coming, they will want to know where friendlies are. There is a large flag that flies in front of the CRISIL building. We can just have it installed on top of the tallest tower here.’

Suri did not look convinced. ‘Yes, and signal to the terrorists that we are interested in defying them. Then they will surely come for us.’

Everyone started talking at once then, voicing their opinion, and I called the General aside. ‘This debate will get us nowhere. Too many people just want others to do their fighting for them, and now that the government is back in the picture, people like Suri are happy to take a spectator seat and hope they solve all our problems for us. Isn’t that the bloody problem we’ve always had here—everyone moans and bitches about others not doing anything about our problems, but they don’t want to get their own hands dirty by doing things themselves.’

The General spat on the ground and took out a cigarette. ‘My boy, I suspect that, soon, it will not be a matter of choice. The war will seek us out, and then it will just be a question of whether we die like sheep or at least go down fighting like men.’

We did not have to wait long for the action to begin.

I got home at around five in the morning, after doing the rounds of every checkpoint and ensuring that our guards there were alert and that teams armed with the few automatic weapons we had were always on call, ready to be ferried to any trouble-spot in one of our stripped-down auto-rickshaws. I was tired and sleepy and collapsed onto the bed next to Megha. She snuggled up to me and I saw her smile with her eyes closed. I leaned towards her for a kiss but thoughts of anything more romantic dissipated as I fell into a dreamless sleep.

I was awakened by a familiar sound—the droning noise that had signalled the arrival of the airplane the previous night. I jumped out of bed and ran to the balcony, with Megha right behind me. We saw a light blue airplane with a white undercarriage and a single propeller on its nose come into view. The tricolour roundel of our forces was clearly visible on the tail of the airplane. It was around 06:30 in the morning and I could see people rushing to balconies and rooftops to see what was going to unfold. Soon, a second airplane joined it and the two began to circle lazily in the sky, as if planning what to do next.

‘Those don’t look like fighter planes. And propellers? Those look ancient.’

‘You’re right,’ Megha confirmed. ‘Those aren’t fighter planes. Those are Alizes. They’re anti-submarine patrol planes which haven’t been in service for a long time. They fought in the ’71 war. I guess their systems are old enough to not be affected by the Blackout. They must have got two of the mothballed airplanes back to airworthy condition.’

The two planes were now flying next to each other, and passed just above our neighbourhood. I could see red rockets slung under their wings. As they flew towards the international airport, I sent up a prayer for their success, as I’m sure hundreds of our neighbours were doing. Part of me was proud of our pilots for taking the fight to the enemy. However, another part of me, which I tried to silence, was worried that the best we could throw at the enemy were two fifty-year-old planes.

It was a clear morning and I could see the control tower at the airport and the terminal with several lights on. I thought I could see some vehicles moving but it was too far to be sure and I wished I had one of the binoculars with me. Megha grabbed my arm as both planes climbed and then dove down at the airport, one after the other.

‘Get those bastards!’

I don’t know who yelled out those words, but every single one of us probably had the same thought. Two rockets detached from the lead plane and, as they ignited, they streaked towards the airport, accompanied by our cheers and screams. The rockets exploded in a cloud of smoke and I gripped the balcony railing hard, hoping that the rockets had hit their intended targets. The first aircraft climbed again as the second came in for its attack run.

That’s when things began to go terribly wrong.

Rounds from heavy weapons reached out towards the aircraft, with at least two lines of red tracer rounds converging on it. Two smoke trails also rose from the ground, reaching up towards the plane as rockets or missiles were fired at it. The pilot tried to manoeuvre his plane out of harm’s way, but with all the firepower directed at him, he didn’t really have a chance. As the plane was hit, it seemed to stop in mid-air for a second, and then it dove vertically down, spinning as it did, trailing smoke before it impacted the ground well short of its target. We heard the explosion and saw the pillar of black smoke rising where the doomed plane had fallen.

Megha’s eyes filled with tears, as did mine. We looked up to see the second plane come in for another attack. The poor, brave pilot was not giving up—he could have gone back to base when he saw the odds he was up against, but he was diving in for another strike. My heart swelled with pride at his courage but also felt like it was breaking because the pilot seemed to be flying in to certain death. He managed to fire one of his rockets before his plane too was shredded by anti-aircraft fire and went spiralling down to the ground, exploding in a fireball.

The combat had lasted just a few minutes, and our neighbourhood was now completely silent, all of us stunned by what we had just seen. The sun was now rising in the sky as a new day began, but it felt like the blackness that had engulfed our world just got darker.

There was not much conversation that morning, as we all tried to deal with the implications of what we’d seen. The euphoria of our government and armed forces still being functional and attempting a fightback had been quickly crushed by the realization of just how meagre that effort was, and how easily the enemy had quashed it.

To add to this, within thirty minutes of the failed air strikes, we heard sounds of heavy gunfire nearby and saw some apartment buildings in the distance being raked by ammunition. Windows shattered and chunks of walls were torn apart under the barrage. Several rockets streaked into balconies, sending clouds of dust and smoke rising from inside the apartments as they exploded. The assault was as sudden as it was vicious. I recognized the buildings as belonging to the Raheja Vihar complex. While we had not made contact with them yet, we had seen some lights on there, and it was clear they too had at least one operational generator and were holding out under the circumstances.

It wasn’t clear what had brought on the sudden onslaught and I could only imagine what they were going through, being attacked by heavy machine guns and rockets with no means of fighting back. It told us a lot about the ruthless nature of the enemy we were facing and, together with the failed air strikes, it weighed heavily on our morale.

The only real way to stave off despondency was to get busy with whatever chores each of us had, and many of us did just that. Kundu had his crews out, working double time to get water supplies; Rani was planting another row of beet and saying how, in just a couple of weeks, her first lot may well be ready. She had managed to salvage some seed potatoes from the nursery, she said, and we might have our first potatoes in three more weeks. I had no way of knowing if that was actually going to happen or if she was being optimistic, but at least it gave people hope that our days of scavenging for packaged food would come to an end. As I walked on, I saw Mangla helping out in the planting and she smiled as I passed her. I realized that each of us was summoning up reserves of courage we probably never realized we had, and for Mangla to be back at work after the trauma she had been through was no less brave than any of us going out to meet the enemy, gun in hand.

Megha was at the hospital with Dr Guenther and Marie, training a group of teenagers to act as medics. I think she could sense that bad days lay ahead and that we would need more people who could administer first-aid or tend to gunshots and other wounds. Mohit and his friends were hard at work, the events of the morning seeming to have given them even more impetus, and he had dropped by to tell me that he was planning to power-up common areas in at least four buildings with his existing solar panels by the end of the week.

However, not everyone was putting their nervous energy to constructive use. I had been jogging from one checkpoint to another, both to inspect each of them and to ensure that the guards there still had their chins up, but also because running was my way of dealing with my own anxieties. It was when I passed the Meluha hotel on the way back from the Ghatkopar checkpoint, that I saw a large crowd gathered around a bus and several raised voices. As I approached, I saw that Mahadev was in a heated argument with Suri.

‘What’s going on?’ I asked. I could see that Mahadev was really worked up. He was tiny, perhaps only a little over five feet tall, and reed thin, but now he looked ready to pounce on Suri. The fact that he had the .22 in his belt made me even more worried about the prospect of imminent violence.

‘This man wants to take away one of our buses and food.’

I looked sharply at Suri, but he stared right back, not willing to give any ground.

‘We all saw the so-called attack by the government. Nobody is coming to rescue us, and I, for one, don’t want to sit here and wait to be massacred. A group of us has decided to take a bus and get away from here. Maybe drive to Lonavla or Nashik and wait things out till they improve.’

I looked him in the eye and saw not just a man who had made up his mind, but one who was very afraid—and being scared can make a man desperate. As much as I disagreed with Suri, I had to defuse the situation. Mahadev was livid and I saw his hand inch towards the gun at his belt. The last thing we needed was to shed our own blood. I tapped Mahadev’s hand and he got the message and moved a step back.

‘Mr Suri, I am nobody to tell you what to do or not, and indeed if you and others believe you are safer elsewhere, I cannot stop anyone from leaving. However, the bus you are taking belongs to the community, as do the boxes of food I see inside.’

Suri’s eyes darted to the boxes that had been put inside the bus and the guilty look on his face told me all I needed to know. He had meant to steal our food and had not counted on being caught. However, he was not going to give in so easily.

‘Look at all the kids with us. Surely you don’t expect us to walk out without any food or water? This bus doesn’t belong to you any more than it does to us.’

‘Then at least talk to our leaders and leave like friends who have decided to part ways, rather than steal away like a thief.’

He glared at me and then, to my immense relief, an auto-rickshaw arrived, carrying Mrs Khatri and the General. When I explained what was happening, I was dumbfounded when Mrs Khatri said, ‘Look, Suri, this is Aadi’s decision to make. If he says you can leave, then you can walk out of here.’

Suri looked as surprised as I was. ‘Who the hell is he to decide? What right does he have to stop me?’

The General smiled, though I could see little humour in his eyes as he addressed Suri. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, Suri, we are now at war, not just dealing with a bloody power outage. In times of war, the military takes over and decides how best to protect a nation. In our case, our own little armed forces, as they are, happen to be commanded by this young man here.’

Suri threw up his hands in exasperation. ‘Have you lost your fucking mind? When did he become our bloody commander?’

The General leaned forward, a hard edge creeping into his otherwise polite voice. ‘Ever since he risked his life time and again on our behalf. So, Aadi, what say you to this coward making a run for it?’

Suri was fuming, but the reality of the situation was that Mahadev and I had guns, and he knew that the others who were armed would likely not take kindly to his making a run for it, stealing our stocks of food and water. Still, I felt sorry for him. The General and Mrs Khatri may have been trying to support me, but the last thing I wanted to do was to use any position of power, real or assumed, to bully anyone, and certainly the thought that I would expect others to listen to me simply because I carried a gun repelled me.

I looked around at the group and saw a bunch of scared people; people with families, who simply wanted to try and find some security for their kids. Sure, they may not have wanted to stay and face the enemy, but should losing one’s nerve lead to a death sentence? Because that’s what sending them out on foot and without supplies would amount to. I stood there, looking from one kid to another, and then finally I stepped around Suri and addressed the others gathered there.