It was a bloody monday as the city was rocked in its entirety by two powerful blasts that ripped it apart.
One of the blasts happened at 12:35 p.m. at Zhaveri Bazaar and the other shook the Gateway of India a half hour later.
The atmosphere was of gloom as the clouds, yet again, braced themselves for the days of thunder to come by. Its a characteristic of the day of calamity. The atmosphere too mourns the death of people.
There were body parts strewn everywhere and some pigeons lying around in a pool of blood. When the bird of peace is killed in an act of violence we should necessarily be going wrong somewhere. Innocent and unaware lives were lost in an impoverished charade of politics and religion.
And then comes the most widely staged spectacle. Politicians coming and throwing a farce in the faces of the already asleep. Then would come the blame-game and the time for endless enquiries and the wild goose chase. Next up would be the political debauchery in the face of the inhumanity.
Days would go by and the whole issue would be buried by the sands of time never to be uncovered again. A clich