I think the experience that I would call a ‘teacher’ was around the time of my first film release — Oye Lucky! Lucky Oye! The release coincided with the 26/11 attacks in Mumbai. The film hit theatres on November 28; the multiplexes were empty; people were scared to step out of their homes. But it was on the day of the film’s international première in Goa that the attacks took place. I was at the venue, along with the entire crew. It was only when too many phones started beeping that I had an inkling that something was amiss. But who would have imagined the enormity of the situation!
It was a bizarre mix of feelings. It was my big screen debut, but there was panic all around — phones were jammed, people couldn’t reach their loved ones, and rumours were flying thick and fast.
My dad was supposed to attend a meeting at the Taj Mahal Hotel that evening, and I was frantically trying to reach him. Somehow that meeting had got cancelled and he was on a flight to Hyderabad when the terrorists stormed the hotel. My mother and I were in a state of panic because his phone was unavailable. It was close to midnight when I finally spoke to my dad. He sounded absolutely calm, whereas I was still trembling at the thought of what could have happened to him.
These attacks taught me that political events can hurt everybody everywhere. Like today, sitting in India, we are not worrying so much about the refugee crisis in Europe or the visible rise of racism in the US. In my wildest dreams I hadn’t imagined that a part of my life would be jinxed by terrorist attacks.
I was fresh out of college, and even though I had just four scenes in my debut film, I believed it would change my life. And it did, though not in the way I had hoped for back then. I got critical acclaim for my work but nothing big came my way immediately after. Work was so slow that I even gave up films for a while and returned to theatre. In the process I learnt that success should not be taken too seriously or for granted. And also, how much we depend on each other for survival.
The night of the attacks was one of the worst in my life... for the city, for the country. I still remember the deathly silence at the Mumbai airport when the team flew in from Goa a day later. It was weird to think that those parts of the city I had frequented with friends during college years had been ravaged by a handful of people who were brainwashed into believing that killing innocent men, women and children on the street would avenge historical or political wrongs.
The 26/11 attacks also brought to light many stories of exemplary courage, resilience and humaneness — in the way people helped each other. It showed that sensitivity and compassion are still alive. And we have to find it in our own ways.
(As told to Aditi Sengupta)