I originally posted this weblog on July 29, 2006.  On July 11, that year, militants, in an attempt to spread fear and destruction, exploded seven synchronised bombs within 11 minutes on the trains running on the Western Lines of Suburban Mumbai. 209 people lost their lives. 700 were grievously injured.

I remember, people were really scared, in the days that followed. That, in itself, was a great achievement for these terrorists. Bombay is seldom affected by anything. We, Mumbaikars, are one solid bunch. It takes a lot of terror to terrorize the people of Mumbai.

 Apparently, the success of the July 11 bomb blasts — the perfect synchronicity of the explosions, the flawless execution of this intelligently planned terror attack, the scale of destruction & loss of life, the utter failure of government machinery in preventing these attacks, was our threshold. We caved in. Widespread paranoia ensued.

 Eventually, life did snap back into shape. And as these things go, most people forgot. Others, the friends & relatives of those unfortunate men, women and children, who perished or were irreversibly disabled, do not have that luxury.

It was under these painful circumstances, that, with a mix of fear, revulsion and a strange sense of love & tenderness for my great city, I wrote these words.

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Oh hell yes. I’m spent. Spent and lent. I’m not going to make you roll in agony. with my sad prose. My lack of comic timing. My timid hellos and mighty(wannabe) goodbyes. I will not let you tell me that the sun’s still shining. no-permission-no. no permit granted-thank you -Govt. of Maharashtra. jai Bheem, jai Shivaji. jai Maharashtra. My Bombay, but a whore, will look at you and will sleep with you and make ugly babies with you. You yellow-livered-nilly-hearted-fcuk-wasted young-mistress-of-green-paper. I will damn you to hell. never-ever-heal. I will cry foul. I will give you away.

O Apollo-Bundered-Marine-Drived,Mumbadevid-Malabar Hilld-Chowpatty-breasted Bombay. Squatting-potty-clutching-The.Times.of.India(Mumbai Edition). With a Wills Classic Milds in the dark slit between your lips. The bum-bum-Bholenath. The Tadi-Madi-Vikri-Kendras. The Babloo-Da-Dhabas. With it’s Salted-Kebabed Lamb-Balls and Bombay-Ducked Masalla. Critter Fritters. Angry mobs of facist Sainiks-Communist Maharashtrians. Religious Fanatics-the Muslims. The angry fangry. The lolitta-I-fcuked-your-daughter thrice. The Maratha-Proud-Bhenchods. The Musllman-Minority-Madarchods.

The Racist regime. The fcuk-chut-Kamathi-randi-Pura whores. The Bhandup-Sonapur hijras. The Night-Lovers-Mulund-Checknaka. The Fcuk-me-while-you-cans. The Chicks-In-Hot-Panties. The Nirmal-Life-R-Malis of Gutter Gardens. The Kentucky-Fried-McDonalded invisible poor. The shit laden slaughter houses. The Hijra-Bazaars. The general hostility against Muslims. My brothers. My brahmin father. My whoring myself to the world. Accepting the ways of Hindu India-Muslim India-Christian India-Sikh India. Fcuk you, you religio-casto mongrels. You cocker-spaniel-disguised-strays. You St. Bernard-wannabes. You saffron-robed-religious-disinfectants. You green-loving-five-times-namazee-terrorists. You sister-fcuking-tonga-riding demi celebrities. You know what you’re doing to the world????

You half-livered-one-testicled monsters. You religious fanatics. You Hindu-Muslim-Sikh-Christian-Dalit-Agri-Junglee-Jhopadpatti-hating sea-faced-building-walas. O, my Bombay bleeds. My Bombay hurts. You bomb-exploding after-life-harem-seekers. And you, the ones with the smirk on your faces - the saffron-clad-masjid-burning-religious-cleansers. You modern-day-21st-century-many-headed-Hitlers. How many lives will your prejudice claim? Did your father fart you out of his ass that you behave so badly?

You Hindus haters. And, you Muslim despisers. You have done us in.

O joy.

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Originally Posted here.