Huzoor, Wah Taj Boliye!

My father had come back from a trip to Bombay and the 4th grader me asked him all sorts of questions. How was Bombay? Did he see any cricketers buying their groceries? My sister wanted to know if any filmstars had waved at him. As is my wont, I needed to know everything. The complete picture. He had a bemused look on his face. He assured us that he had not seen any celebrities on this trip but he said he was directed to stay at the Taj. We were floored. The Taj!!?? Really!!?? I needed to see some evidence. Unbelievable. I said 'Dude. You stay in a little, pretty university town. How do you get to stay at the Taj?' He patted me on the head and continued to read the newspaper. My mother looked at me patiently. Everybody had moved on from that moment. Not me. Reluctantly, I fetched my cricket bat and got ready to join my friends at the 'pit (our local cricket field) and if you know me you will know that 'reluctance' and 'cricket' for me never made it into the same sentence. Just as I was leaving he quipped, 'Tommy (he called me that), they give you a basket of fruits when you check-in'. My little heart leaped with joy at the introduction of this crucial piece of information. Wonders never cease. 'A bowl of fruits!' Wow. I had to tell my friends. I had to tell everyone.

That was the Taj feeling for the middle-classes. It was a notion, a concept, a dream. When one had a b'day or one got a raise or one had something good happen to them, we would tease them to take us to the Taj. The Taj was our purported gateway to the 'posh' life. The Taj Mahal Palace and Tower in Bombay was aptly located adjacent to the Gateway of India. I have never had the good fortune of entering it's hallowed portals, but it was like a mothership. A spring that replicated it's presence through creating the Taj chain of hotels throughout India. We never had to explain to anyone the particular Taj we visited. A mere 'We are at the Taj' sufficed.

In medical school, we had a Taj close by. We would wait with bated breath for them to announce their famous midnight buffets (also known as 'leftover buffets') and an army of hungry medical students would converge at the Taj at the stroke of midnight. We would go to the Taj to watch a game of cricket and even though the steward knew we would sit for eight hours and only order one coffee (usually cold coffee with ice cream) and one plate of fries (which would remain largely untouched) he made sure he gave us the best seats in the house. He would generously give us discount coupons and pamper us like only the Taj can. It was like taking the famous Indian hospitality and serving it to us in generous dollops. We have a tradition at our medical school, the class socials. One social at the end of year 1 and the second at the end of med school. They were always held at the Taj. The girls draped in their best sarees and the boys in their finest suits. This was the Taj to us. Sometimes, when I had a long, calamity-filled duty night - when I had been up for more than 24 hours and got off duty in the morning - I would get on my motorbike and ride down to the Taj and have scrambled eggs and coffee while politely turning down an offer of orange juice.

We grew older. We had more income (Lol). We would meet up at the Taj. We would catch up on old times. When two of my closest friends got married recently, we went to the Taj in that city and as we like to say 'chilled out'. The Taj gave us a home away from home. We were as comfortable in the Taj as we were standing at a 'gaadi' (mobile food cart) and sipping on chai.

To even begin to fathom what happened on 26/11 is close to impossible. I do not want to talk about my anger against the perpetrators of this nightmare, or rant against the failure of the system to protect it's own, or even explain to others how India has always cherished peace, or how everyday life is in India.

The tales of ordinary men and women demonstrating extraordinary bravery during this ordeal are many. Be it a railway-station announcer who dodged bullets to shepherd people to safety or the soon-to-be-married commando who stormed into the line of fire with scant regard for his own life or the staff at the Taj who served food and drink to people trapped on that fateful day. It is undeniable that the staff at the Taj saved many lives. They took their oath of service at the priceless cost of their own lives. I salute my Taj.

Tweet