Now I know what 6 inches mean...

As we grow old, our perspective of looking at incidents or happenings changes. Our reaction to a particular incident may be different when we are at age 15 than when we are at 25. And when we are in an advanced age as me, then, the perspective just changes entirely.

Living in Mumbai, one is never too far from potentially dangerous situations and incidents. Travelling in a local train during peak hours is nothing short of putting your life at risk. Walk on roads, pavements can be potentially hazardous too.

But, what one is not prepared for is a freak incident / accident. Even though, whenever one hears or reads about a freak incident, it invokes a sense of shock and pity for the victim, but, it is difficult to prepare oneself for a freak incident. 

And if you happen to experience it or happen to be a victim of it, then you come out of it confused. Cause, it is not a regular thing that you can learn from it and be careful for the next time. Or, you don’t know anyone who has gone through it to share it with. Nor can you expect anyone to understand it, cause it is freak and very difficult for anyone else to relate to it. But, the one thing that it does to you is, it freaks you out.

Here is what happened:

“The weather today is so gloomy,” read a message from a friend on my phone as I was walking towards my building. On a day when newspapers were filled with stories of the previous day being the hottest day and how everyone should brace up for summers, this particular afternoon, had turned surprisingly windy and cloudy. A haze had engulfed the city, which made the sun look as if we are looking at it through an opaque glass. With your sunglasses on, you could actually look at the sun and see its circumference clearly like a proper circle.

But, I particularly like such weather, when the breeze is just strong enough to not make you feel the heat and there is enough shade (thanks to the clouds). I took a longer route than usual just to walk in the ‘gloomy’ weather.

With the breeze hitting my face and ruffling my hair, I happily reached my building, upon entering the gate, I exchanged my usual pleasantries with the watchman. The building and the premises were expectedly quite as it was afternoon time and most of the families are either sleeping or watching TV. And expectedly, no one wanted to venture out in the ‘gloomy’ weather.

As I walking towards the entrance of the building, suddenly, out of nowhere, the entire building shook and resonated in a loud bang. The noise was so loud that it echoed for a couple of seconds in the quite neighbourhood. It was so loud and so close that I instinctively ducked. Just as I gathered myself to figure out what had happened, I saw the watchman and a couple of people frantically running towards me and asking me if was okay.

I told them I was okay, more amused at myself for having reacted the way I did only to a noise. Everything happened so fast that I was still trying to figure out what had happened, as a slow humming sound filled my ears making it difficult to hear.

I only realised the freakiness and enormity of the incident, when I saw my forearm all glittery as if someone had put lots of chamki on it and my shoes and the ground beneath covered with brown coloured glass shards and shrapnel.

A huge glass panel had come-off from its holdings on the 19^th floor and had come crashing down to earth in full force. And it went past just 6 inches above my head and left shoulder and crash landed on the boundary wall, shattering and spreading glass pieces all around.

The Spot Where I was Walking

First reaction after realising what had happened was, “Maa ki Aankh, bach gaya”. While the security guard, watchman and others started clamouring around to figure out what had happened.

But, as I continued to stand there and the incident began to sink in, the questions started popping up in the mind.. What if, it was 6 inches to the right..? What if I was 6 inches to the left..? What is, this..? What if, that..?

Within a fraction of a second I also recollected a case way back in 2003 which I had covered as a television reporter in Aaj Tak, when a glass panel from the 25^th floor of the Oberoi Hotel had fallen on a lady who was sitting near the pool and she had instantly died.

The spot where the glass crash-landed

I kind of replayed the whole scenario in my mind. Like a slow motion picture, I could actually see myself walking in the building gate, my right hand slowly coming up to wave at the watchman, in the same scene I could also see the glass panel shaking vigorously due to the strong wind. As they show in the movies, I could see, one by one, each screw coming off further loosening the brown coloured glass.

In the next scene, just as I finished my salute to the watchman, I could see the glass panel coming off all its attachment and diving towards the ground. And within a fraction of a second, come crashing down half-a-feet away from me.

But the one question which remained and still remains at the top of my mind - was it thanks to the ‘gloomy’ and windy weather that I managed to escape unscathed and unhurt.

During its few seconds long nose-dive from the 19^th floor, did the glass pane waver in its trajectory due to the strong winds. I guess so, or I may never know. But, the one thing that I know for sure now, is, what 6 inches means - it is probably a difference between life and death.

Link to some of my works

http://www.dnaindia.com/authors/nikhil-s-dixit

It was such a.... ‘Good Shot’

Being a cricket fanatic, it seldom happens that you pass by a maidan in Mumbai and you don’t stop for a moment to see a ball being bowled or a shot being played. And, if you have a little more time, then you definitely stop and reminisce about your playing days and convince yourself how you would have bowled that ball better or hit that delivery better.

And then clichéd thoughts cross your mind (Woh bhi kya din the…) (I wish I could play again). You instinctively call / text a friend, “chal na yaar cricket khelte hai, kam se kam Sunday ko khelte hai.”

A similar situation happened to me recently when I was waiting for someone near the Matunga ground. Since I had to wait for the person for a few minutes, I automatically moved towards the katta and stood there to see some of the matches that were being played.

It was a near-perfect atmosphere. The late-afternoon sun was blazing down on the ground, while, the rain-trees surrounding the ground offered lovely protection from the sun and the breeze just made the whole scenario tailor made.

I decided to sit on the katta and watch an ongoing match which was getting interesting. As I was looking for a place to sit, I realised, the entire katta had been taken over by young couples and college kids who were chilling out, without the slightest interest in the cricket matches. I finally managed to find a spot in between a young couple and a group of youngsters dressed in cricket whites.

As I settled on the katta facing the ground, I realised the young couple was sitting within a ear-shot and their sweet-nothings fell on my ears. The first instinct was to move away, but there was no other space available and I had to spend a good 15-20 minutes there. Then, I told myself, I will ignore their conversation and concentrate on the cricket. But, the very first sentence of their conversation got me hooked on and what followed was an astounding revelation of modern day love-stories and how young college going kids who are in relationships converse among themselves.

Let us call the guy Abhishekh and the girl Pooja (Disclaimer – these are fictitious names and the only reason I chose these names was because the guy really looked like an Abhishekh and the girl did look like a Pooja. Abhishekh must be 21-22 years old. Pooja must be a year younger at 20. A typical college going couple, sitting with their backpacks clinging on their shoulders as they sat hand-in-hand.

So, this is how their conversation went:

(Mind you, I was sitting there seemingly interested only in the cricket and making all efforts to ensure they don’t feel conscious and my presence does not spoil their few moments of privacy)

Pooja: Tu soch agar uss din maine teri woh FB friend request accept nahin ki hoti toh aaj meri life kitni easy hoti.

Abhishekh mumbled something, which I could hear.

Pooja: Main tujhe chhodke kabhi nahin jaaoongi. Ab tak nahin chhoda toh iske aage bhi nahin chhodoongi. Hamari shaadi hogi. Hamare bachche honge aur hum old bhi saath main hi honge.

(This is what got me hooked on to their conversation. I was like, yeah right, young lady, I hope it does go that way. Then I was like, isn’t this supposed to be a modern generation who don’t think about marriage and long-term relationships. Then, I told myself, maybe, this is a different couple. So, as my eyes focused on the next delivery that was being bowled, my ears focused on their conversation)

Pooja: Tu meri life main aane se ek cheez achchi ho gayi, mera sootta aur daru kam ho gaya.

(This was more like it…)

Abhisekh: Lekin mera badh gaya na.

Pooja: Tu toh c*****a hai. Tu meri sunttaa hi Nahin hai.

Pooja: Mujhe dekh daru cigarette kam hone se meri health bhi achchi ho gayi hai.

Abhishekh: Achchi Nahin tu moti hogayi hai. Woh dekh (Abhisekh was pointing at Pooja’s tummy)

“Kya khel raha hai yaar” (Suddenly, I heard these words, and wondered, what was that, only to realise, the group of youngsters sitting on the other side were commenting on the ongoing match. The funny bone in me couldn’t resist to relate the two conversations. In my thoughts, I said, Abhishekh, kya khel raha hai yaar)

Pooja: (jokingly) - Arre main moti nahin pregnant hoon.

Abhishekh: (jokingly) - Kahan muuh kala kare ke aayi tu.

Pooja: Tere hi saath. Yaad nahin hai kya uss raat ko kya hua tha.

Abhishekh: Raat ko? Main toh 10 baje so jaata hoon.

Pooja: Achcha? Toh uss raat ko kya tera bhoot tha woh.

(Needless to say by now, their conversation had my utmost attention, I could actually visualise my ears moving like a dog’s ear in their direction, just as a faster bowler began his run-up to bowl a clinching delivery. So my eyes were hooked on the bowler, as both my senses (eyes and ears) individually started concentrating on the next few seconds. The timing was such that both, Abhishekh and the bowler delivered at the same moment)

Abhisekh: Arre nahin re, main hi tha uss raat and it was such a.….... “Good Shot” (I blurted out instinctively as the batsman played a cracker of a hook shot and the ball soared high in the sky and went for a six).

I realised that even though, I had blurted to myself and it was barely audible, but, it was loud enough for Abhishekh and Pooja to hear it. From the corner of my left eye I could see both of them staring at me with gaping eyes. As I tried to figure out what had happened, they got up and left.

I am still trying to figure out why they left…

The Spiritual Scribe..!!

Nikhil, only 38 years of age is a seasoned, celebrated crime journalist whose career took off in 2002 with Times Of India. During this very eventful and remarkable tenure where he met all kinds of people one of the highlights of his career was the opportunity to cover 26/11 Terror attacks in Mumbai. He also has the distinction of authoring a book titled, “Mumbai Under Siege” based on the attacks.

Due recognition was given in the form of “Shrikant Patil Memorial Award” for the best crime journalist in 2010.

Is that it one may ask…no it isn’t.

Members of the Fourth Estate are somewhat like doctors who see so many human tragedies that somewhere they become hard hearted. And sometimes to further their career ambitions and get the coveted front-page byline they lose their ethics, sensitivity that is also ironically a part of their profession but which is nearly non-existent today. Especially in some countries where it appears that the fourth estate is a powerful influencer and sometimes the only tool, which is feared by large sections of society.

How you report is key to interpretation, privacy and protection of people undergoing the worst tragedies of their lives that will change their life and their families’ life forever.  The onus of the scribe is to report in a manner that covers all the aspects without adding further trauma and scarring of victims. It is even more important in today’s day and age when sensationalism, seems to score heavily to get attention in a competitive environment. That is not all; moral policing and character judgments are already passed based on the eyeball click that rule the day.

Several years back in Mumbai a mentally challenged 13 year old was raped in a running, nearly empty local train. Among the 3 people who watched and did nothing was a journalist who got of at the next station, went and told the cops and published the front-page news. The question which was asked by everyone and a furor created was a moral question, “ How could you watch and do nothing, how could you sleep that night and ever after and then report it”

There have been many, many more horrific rapes but this one stays in mind forever for its sheer cold-blooded unethical action.

However several years later when a woman was raped in a premeditated action there was a different kind of journalist who decided to handle the criminal incident differently. In this hour of misfortune and tragedy the family found a Spiritual Scribe, Ethical, Generous who decided to do what many journalists have forgotten to do so – Responsible Coverage at the right time of the tragedy and it led to the discovery of Nikhil Dixit – Journalist- one of a kind - limited edition character.

 Journalists and the media do not always do the right thing by being responsible in sensitive cases.  From the beginning till the end Nikhil selflessly helped the family in the quest for justice. He was the brightest unwavering light in their long moment of darkness.

 It is something, which is inbuilt in his DNA. When J.Dey One of the finest investigative journalists was gunned down in Powai on June 11, 2011 Nikhil wrote the following article on him one day after he was assassinated.

http://www.dnaindia.com/mumbai/report-i-stood-in-attention-next-to-j-deys-pyre-and-said-jai-hind-sir-rip-1554316

What nobody knew was what it must have cost him to write about someone who has been a part of his life, inspired him, held his hand and guided him. Nikhil pays tribute to his memory and says. “. One of the finest investigative journalists our country has ever produced and an even better human being. I can write volumes on how he shaped up my life. But, all I can say is that he inspired me when he was alive and continues to inspire me even today.”

As a crime journalist you have access to all the kinds of personalities and characters a normal person wouldn’t ever have in their lifetime. Another example is Shahid Azmi who inspired him and continues to do so even today after he is gone. Elaborating on Azmi Nikhil says. “An individual who I admire immensely His was a classic story of hero who suffered and experienced the worst of tragedies but still came out of it strong and successful. Shahid lost his dear ones during the 1992-93 riots. As a teenager, he witnessed his loved ones being massacred in the riots. It left a deep impact on him and he got indoctrinated. Later, he was arrested and put in jail in connection with a terror case. An ordinary individual in his place would have either collapsed or gone the wrong way, but Shahid resurrected himself and became a very successful lawyer at a very young age. He was gunned down by the underworld in his office in Kurla on February 11, 2010. He was a very dear friend.”

This is the article that he wrote on him a day after he was shot dead.http://www.dnaindia.com/mumbai/report-shahid-azmi-never-tried-to-hide-his-past-as-tada-detainee-1346670

The blame/credit game – The trend is to blame everybody from parents, to society to influences, circumstances everything to everybody but never look within. Parents and families are the first to stand in the dock if the child doesn’t turn out right. 

How true Daddy’s words were when he said: all children must look after their own upbringing. Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right paths, but the final forming of a person’s character lies in their own hands. - Anne Frank

Nikhil on the contrary is the ultimate in humility and generosity personified. Rarely do you find people who are pure givers of unparalleled generosity coupled with never taking credit for what they give or do instead gracefully acknowledging people who made a difference in his life.

A member of a first generation nuclear family of teachers, Nikhil credits his parents – Subhash and Lata for bestowing the high quality of value and cultured upbringing vis-à-vis the lower middle class lifestyle. According to him, ‘whatever good I have in me is because of my parents and whatever bad I have in me is because I have not been able to successfully incorporate what my parents have taught me. Had it not been for them, I don’t know how my life would have shaped up and where I would have been today. And this is not a conclusion he has arrived at whimsically, years of self-introspection has validated this belief in him.

From his brother Neelesh a self-made entrepreneur he has learnt the single most important trait of self-belief, which has stood him in good stead in his personal and professional life

Abhay Mokshi is the teacher in Nikhil’s Journey, the man who he met whilst studying journalism. But it was not so much the subjects taught as part of his curriculum as much as following the examples of daily life that Nikhil is grateful for having the presence of. He not only taught, he did and Nikhil followed.

His innumerable friends taught him street smartness, which helped in his professional life.

There is part of us that stands in quiet witness to what we do, taking notes, waiting for a solitary moment to bring up the subject.  ~Robert Brault,www.robertbrault.com


Human behavior has always been based on rationalization and analysis. We talk of self-introspection but more as a form of preaching and advising others than actually practicing it.

 In this scheming manipulative world it is uncommon to find a practicing soul who not only self introspects but listens to his inner voice and learns and practices self-improvement.

As Nikhil refreshingly says on what makes him who he is, Himself: This might sound a bit strange, but, may be by design or by circumstances I have ended up being my 4am best friend. I spend a lot of time with myself. And I teach myself a lot of things based on what I see, what I read and what I experience. Every minute that I spend with myself is a learning, growing and maturing experience for me.

 As far as incidents are concerned, there are innumerable experiences good and bad that have helped shape me up. It would be difficult to write all of them down. This might sound a bit philosophical, but in my case it is true that every incident, event or happening shapes my life and me. So every incident is accounted for.

 Why I call Nikhil “The Spiritual Scribe” can be summed up by the quote below

The essence of all spiritual life is your attitude toward others. Once you have pure and sincere motives all the rest follows. – Dalai Lama- A Policy of Kindness: An Anthology of Writings by and about the Dalai Lama

Nikhil best describes himself and his thought process by his simple words

Respect for every individual (Humans and Animals) is something, which drives me. I always put myself in the other individual’s shoes and look at things from their point of view before judging anyone. I strive to do this everyday.

 The only thing I value and hope to continue doing it is – Time. I value time in every sense of the word. That’s the only thing I have learnt – to value time, whether it is yours or someone else’s.

 Whenever I am able to contribute to anyone’s happiness, it makes me happy (I know this sounds a bit philosophical. But I genuinely believe it and am always striving to do that).

 I get sad when I see that an individual (Human and Animal) is not accorded the kind of respect he / she deserves.

 I do not get angry or nothing ever angers me (I know this probably sounds unbelievable, but that’s how I am). I only get disappointed or sad.

 If I had to publish Nikhil’s quotes, statements at various stages and moments of life this piece would be never ending and could probably be made into a booklet, which would be a reference manual, ‘ For people in difficult, conflicting, doubtful situations’. Might do a sequel to this article!

 Heights of Responsibility – If there were a relationship, which failed, he would take ultimate responsibility for the failure.

 The dance floor comes alive when Nikhil takes to it. A fabulous dancer who mesmerizes you and the stage gets cleared and people watch awestruck. This too has a spiritual chord as he states, ‘On the personal front. I dance when I am sad. I dance when I am happy. Dancing to me is the only thing that liberates my soul. I am in my zone, in a state of meditation when I dance.’

(Source: intlcoordination) 

God v/s Science

"Let me explain the problem science has with God." The atheist professor of philosophy pauses before his class and then asks one of his new students to stand.

"You're a God believer, aren't you, son?"

"Yes sir," the student says.

"So you believe in God?"

"Absolutely."

"Is God good?"

"Sure! God's good."

"Is God all-powerful? Can God do anything?"

"Yes."

"Are you good or evil?"

"The teachings says I'm evil."

The professor grins knowingly. He considers for a moment.

"Here's one for you. Let's say there's a sick person over here and you can cure him. You can do it. Would you help them? Would you try?"

"Yes sir, I would."

"So you're good...!"

"I wouldn't say that."

"But why not say that? You'd help a sick and maimed person if you could. Most of us would if we could. But God doesn't."

The student does not answer, so the professor continues. "He doesn't, does he? My brother was a God believer who died of cancer, even though he prayed to Jesus to heal him. How is this God good? Hmmm? Can you answer that one?"

The student remains silent.

"No, you can't, can you?" the professor says. He takes a sip of water from a glass on his desk to give the student time to relax.

"Let's start again, young fella. Is God good?"

"Er... Yes," the student says.

"Is Satan good?"

The student doesn't hesitate on this one. "No."

"Then where does Satan come from?"

The student falters. "From... God..."

"That's right. God made Satan, didn't he? Tell me, son. Is there evil in this world?"

"Yes, sir."

"Evil's everywhere, isn't it? And God did make everything, correct? "

"Yes."

"So who created evil?"

Again, the student has no answer.

"Is there sickness? Immorality? Hatred? Ugliness. All these terrible things, do they exist in this world?"

The student squirms on his feet. "Yes."

"So who created them?"

The student does not answer again, so the professor repeats his question.

"Who created them? "

There is still no answer. Suddenly the lecturer breaks away to pace in front of the classroom. The class is mesmerized.

"Tell me," he continues. "Do you believe in God, son?"

The student's voice betrays him and cracks. "Yes, professor. I do."

The old man stops pacing. "Science says you have five senses you use to identify and observe the world around you. Have you ever seen God?"

"No sir. I've never seen Him."

"Then tell us if you've ever heard your God?"

"No, sir. I have not."

"Have you ever felt your God, tasted your God or smelt your God? Have you ever had any sensory perception of God?"

"No, sir, I'm afraid I haven't."

"Yet you still believe in him?" thundered the professor.

"Yes."

"According to the rules of empirical, testable, demonstrable protocol, science says your God doesn't exist. What do you say to that, son?"

"Nothing," the student replies. "I only have my faith."

"Yes, faith," the professor repeats. "And that is the problem science has with God. There is no evidence, only faith."

The student stands quietly for a moment, before asking a question of his own.

"Professor, is there such thing as heat?"

"Yes," the professor replies. "There's heat."

"And is there such a thing as cold?"

"Yes, son, there's cold too."

"No sir, there isn't."

The professor turns to face the student, obviously interested. The room suddenly becomes very quiet. The student begins to explain.

"You can have lots of heat, even more heat, super-heat, mega-heat, white heat, a little heat or no heat, but we don't have anything called 'cold'.

We can hit 458 degrees below zero, which is no heat,but we can't go any further after that. There is no such thing as cold; otherwise we would be able to go colder than -458 degrees. You see, sir, cold is only a word we use to describe the absence of heat. We cannot measure cold. Heat we can measure in thermal units because heat is energy. Cold is not the opposite of heat, sir, just the absence of it."

Silence across the room! A pen drops somewhere in the classroom, sounding like a hammer.

"What about darkness, professor. Is there such a thing as darkness?"

"Yes," the professor replies without hesitation. "What is night if it isn't darkness?"

"You're wrong again, sir. Darkness is not something; it is the absence of something. You can have low light, normal light, bright light, flashing light. But if you have no light constantly you have nothing and it's called darkness, isn't it? That's the meaning we use to define the word. In reality, Darkness isn't. If it were, you would be able to make darkness darker, wouldn't you?"

The professor begins to smile at the student in front of him. This will be a good semester.

"So what point are you making, young man?"

"Yes, professor. My point is, your philosophical premise is flawed to start with and so your conclusion must also be flawed."

The professor's face cannot hide his surprise this time. "Flawed? Can you explain how?"

"You are working on the premise of duality," the student explains. "You argue that there is life and then there's death; a good God and a bad God. You are viewing the concept of God as something finite, something we can measure. Sir, science can't even explain a thought. It uses electricity and magnetism, but has never seen, much less fully understood either one. To view death as the opposite of life is to be ignorant of the fact that death cannot exist as a substantive thing. Death is not the opposite of life, just the absence of it. Now tell me, professor. Do you teach your students that they evolved from a monkey?"

"If you are referring to the natural evolutionary process, young man,yes,of course I do."

"Have you ever observed evolution with your own eyes, sir?"

The professor begins to shake his head, still smiling, as he realizes where the argument is going. A very good semester indeed!

"Since no one has ever observed the process of evolution at work and cannot even prove that this process is an on-going endeavour, are you not teaching your opinion, sir? Are you now not a scientist, but a preacher?"

The class is in uproar. The student remains silent until the commotion has subsided.

"To continue the point you were making earlier to the other students, let me give you an example of what I mean."

The student looks around the room. "Is there anyone in the class who has ever seen the professor's brain?" The class breaks out into laughter.

"Is there anyone here who has ever heard the professor's brain,felt the professor's brain, touched or smelt the professor's brain? No one appears to have done so. So, according to the established rules of empirical, testable, demonstrable protocol,science says that you have no brain, with all due respect, sir. So if science says you have no brain, how can we trust your lectures, sir?"

Now the room is silent. The professor just stares at the student, his face unreadable!

Finally, after what seems an eternity, the old man answers.

"I guess you'll have to take them on faith." The class breaks into a deadening applause.

"Continuing further, Sir, when GOD created the universe he made a set of rules which governs every living organisms, categorized in his own way. For some, life is a predestined, well programmed journey of life. For others, like humans, the rules of life are a direct results of their own actions, words, thoughts or/and conducts. So, Sir, happiness, sadness, good, bad, sickness, good health, poverty and abundance, is man's own doing unto himself. The wrong and bad happenings in man's life, is nothing but the lack of righteousness in his way of life."

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26/11 - The sight inside Oberoi left me numb!

I entered the Trident hotel just a few hours after the National Security Guard (NSG) commandos killed the terrorist who was holed up in The Oberoi hotel. Just as I walked in with a police source, the team of NSG snipers was leaving the hotel to a loud cheer and clapping by the hotel staff. Such was the relief that a couple of senior hotel staff members even saluted them.

However the magnitude of the horrendous act started dawning on me as foul smell of decomposed bodies filled the air. The smell was extremely strong even in the lobby of Trident which was at quite a distant from the lobby of The Oberoi, where the bloodbath had taken place.

“Please wear a mask,” said my source passing on a mask to me, “the smell will become strong as we get close to the scene of crime. It is nauseating,” he said. He further said that on Wednesday evening immediately after the shooting, authorities had switched off the centralised air conditioning of the hotel, all the windows were closed and the dead bodies have been lying around for almost three days now.

Having been to several crime scenes before I thought I would be able to take this as well, but what awaited me was a sight which sent shivers down my spine and gave me goose pimples.

A trail of blood past the Piaget showroom led me to the lobby of The Oberoi. Shattered glass panes of the Tiffin restaurant bore evidence of the gruesome terror acts two days ago. Just as I neared the entrance, at least eight highly decomposed bodies lay in front of me. The bodies had bloated and had become so black that even their family members could not recognise them. Their clothes had been ripped off due to excessive bloating.

Empty shells of AK47 assault rifles, pools of blood, shattered glass and food were splattered all over the beige-coloured carpet of the Tiffin restaurant.

The most shocking sight was of the tables which still had half eaten food in plates and glasses half-filled with wine and champagne. It was as if the guests had left the tables for sometime and would be back to finish their meals.

One of the police officers present there said that Kandhar restaurant which is situated on the first floor was the most affected because it just has one door for entry and exit. The gunmen had blocked the entrance and sprayed bullets on those dining inside.

The famous Piano in the lobby was completely destroyed, probably by a grenade attack. The piano was the most priced possession of the hotel, said a member of the hotel staff with moist eyes.

Just as I was coming to terms with the dastardly act, my source said that I would have to leave since senior police officials were on their way to visit the spot.

While I was walking back, my eyes fell on a book ‘Beyond the battlefield’, which incidentally was launched at The Oberoi in 2004 to commemorate the affiliation between a ship of the Indian Navy and the Maratha Light Infantry. I wondered - what else was beyond this particular battlefield, where several innocent people lost their lives.

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