Suddenly your ordinariness as a common man ceases to lose its sheen. Suddenly you feel so vulnerable, so small.... so dwarfed. Another attack on common people, and this time again Mumbai, doesn't bring out anger, or angst. It has given a frown on the forehead of scores of other urbanites, like me. A sense of helplessness, a feeling of no control on the violent world around freezes you one moment, and the next moment you want to unshackle yourself from the memories and the frames frozen in time, which are spread all around you - in visual and print media.
The people who died, and who will die in the cruel hands of terrorism have created and will keep on creating void in the lives of their loved ones, their families. But beyond that, it's just numbers.... dead or injured.... just numbers.... critical or stable.... just numbers..... just a record.... of uncelebrated death.
This time I'm not angry.... I'm just dwarfed.
RESTLESS
