Recounting My Birthing Story Amidst The 26/11 Terrorist Attacks

This day was 10 years ago. The 26/11 terrorist attacks…

You can never understand the enormity of a tragedy unless it happens to you and your family. Especially in a country like India, where life is considered cheap, accidents, deaths, fires, attacks, and death by stampede are commonplace and don’t take up more than a headline space in our busy lives. 

This day 10 years ago still sends shivers down my spine and I am glad I have lived to tell the story.

Was I There When It Happened?

No, I wasn’t a part of the terrorist attacks and I haven’t seen the brutal side of the attacks. I wasn’t even in any of the areas that were attacked, but this day is etched in my memory and 10 years later, I remember it because there has never since been a day when I have wanted more to be alive.

10 years ago, I was in my last month of pregnancy, ready to give birth, my due date being December 1. I worked at the Metro theatre building and my colleagues joked that they would have to rush me to the hospital from work, given that I hadn’t gone on maternity leave yet! 

I remember waking up on the morning of 26th November and telling my husband I just don’t feel very well and that I wanted to stay at home from work that day. Even though, I was absolutely fine physically but had this weird intuition that something was about to go wrong. Daily chores, Yoga class, and work from later, that niggling feeling refused to go away. It got to a point where I even told my husband who was scheduled to go to Leopold cafe for a friend’s birthday that he should cancel and stay at home. To my surprise, he agreed to stay back.

What Happened Next Was Least Expected:

30 minutes later, news of the attacks started flashing on all channels. It happened so suddenly that I remember staying glued to the screen just thinking of people going about their daily and in particular pregnant women like myself, whose birth plans had been disrupted. I was thinking and praying for every woman who couldn’t make it to the hospital to deliver and give birth to a new life, for every mom who couldn’t save the life of her little baby who she had bonded with over the past 9 months. 

My parents try to keep me from watching the news saying it would be disturbing for me and the baby but it was simply too difficult to turn away from. Born and brought up in and around these parts, I wanted to know where my friends and family members were and if they were home safe and I continued to watch stories of those officers who let duty take precedence over family and took the bullet for someone else. 

An Evening Passed In Prayer

I prayed and hoped God would hold on to my baby and that I wouldn’t have to rush to the hospital to deliver the baby. What if the attackers weren’t contained? Everything that could possibly go wrong was running through my mind and this is not how I had dreamt of bringing new life into the world. Though my family asked me to sleep as much as I could before the baby came, sleep eluded me during those 48 hours. There were just too many unanswered questions and too many people to think about. I simply couldn’t get past thinking about every mom who lost a child in those attacks and every child who lost their parents in that attack. 

When My Baby Decided To Make An Arrival

The moment that I will always remember is when the news channels announced that the Taj was now clear and all the terrorists had been neutralized. My water broke and as I reached the hospital, I saw so many women there already. Each one of them had their own adventure of how they arrived at the hospital amidst all that fear and uncertainty.

My baby came soon and I remember NOT reading the newspapers for the next three days because I just couldn’t accept that my baby was born in a world where there was so much hatred and negativity. 

Never Have I Wanted To Live More

I wasn’t at any of the attack sites but I could have been there and so could my husband. For the first time, there was fear. I was scared. I was scared for myself, for my unborn baby, for my family, and for the city, I call home. There was nothing I wanted more than to see my firstborn.

There was nothing more I wanted than to be alive.

I thank God each day for this life and for that intuitive feeling that made me take all those actions I did on that day. The date and the stories still send shivers down my spine as I pen this 10 years later. 

10 years ago, I was in my last month of pregnancy, ready to give birth, my due date being December 1. I worked at the Metro theatre building and my colleagues joked that they would have to rush me to the hospital from work, given that I hadn’t gone on maternity leave yet!

I remember waking up on the morning of 26th November and telling my husband I just don’t feel very well and that I wanted to stay at home from work that day. I was absolutely fine physically but had this weird intuition that something was about to go wrong. Daily chores, Yoga class, and a few hours later, that niggling feeling refused to go away. It got to a point where I even told my husband who was scheduled to go to Leopold cafe for a friend’s birthday that he should cancel and stay at home. To my surprise, he agreed to stay back.

30 minutes later, news of the attacks started flashing on all channels. It happened so suddenly that I remember staying glued to the screen just thinking of people going about their daily routine and in particular pregnant women like myself, whose birth plans had been disrupted. I was thinking and praying for every woman who couldn’t make it to the hospital to deliver and give birth to a new life, for every mom who couldn’t save the life of her little baby who she had bonded with over the past 9 months.

My parents try to keep me from watching the news saying it would be disturbing for me and the baby but it was simply too difficult to turn away from. Born and brought up in and around these parts, I wanted to know where my friends and family members were- if they were home safe and I continued to watch stories of those officers who let duty take precedence over family and took the bullet for someone else.

An evening passed in prayer

I prayed and hoped God would hold on to my baby and that I wouldn’t have to rush to the hospital to deliver the baby. What if the attackers weren’t contained? Everything that could possibly go wrong was running through my mind and this is not how I had dreamt of bringing a new life into the world. Though my family asked me to sleep as much as I could before the baby came, sleep eluded me in those 48 hours. There were just too many unanswered questions and too many people to think about. I simply couldn’t get past thinking about every mom who lost a child in those attacks and for every child who lost their parents in that attack.

When my baby decided to make an arrival

The moment that I will always remember is when the news channels announced that the Taj was now clear and all the terrorists had been neutralized. My water broke and as I reached the hospital, I saw so many women there already. Each one of them had their own adventure of how they arrived at the hospital amidst all that fear and uncertainty.

My baby came soon and I remember NOT reading the newspapers for the next three days because I just couldn’t accept that my baby was born in a world where there was so much hatred and negativity. 

Never have I wanted to live more:

I wasn’t at any of the attack sites but I could have been there and so could my husband. For the first time, there was fear. I was scared. I was scared for myself, for my unborn baby, for my family, and for the city, I call home. There was nothing I wanted more than to see my firstborn.

There was nothing more I wanted than to be alive.

I thank God each day for this life and for that intuitive feeling that made me take all those actions I did on that day. The date and the stories still send shivers down my spine as I pen this 10 years later.