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Author: Shevlin Sebastian
Publication: The Hindustan Times
Date: July 16, 2006
Introduction: 'Tushit taught me to be strong'. Meeta Shah struggles to cope with the demise of her husband and the death of their dreams
The living room of Meeta Shah's sixth-floor flat in suburban Dahisar is filled with people, mostly women. Meeta is sitting on a dhurrie, beside a low windowsill on which is placed a garlanded portrait of her late husband Tushit, 44, an equity dealer. When she sees me at the door, she beckons with her hand. But I prefer to stay where I am. Then, one by one, they hug her, her colleagues from the Oxford Public School at Charkop, where Meeta, 44, works as a student counselor. "Be strong," says one, in an orange saree.
Apart from Meeta, there is her brother, Hasit, other family members, Tushit's childhood friend, Mayur Desai, and daughter Esha, 16, who is wearing a white T-shirt, with 'Germany' written across it.
I ask Meeta how she heard the news. "I was at a friend's place when he mentioned that the TV news channels were announcing bomb blasts on the local trains," she recalls. "I rushed home because that was the time Tushit was usually on a train." She tried several times to call him on his cellphone, but could not get through. "I told my daughter Esha, 'Keep on trying, keep on trying,' she says. "All the lines were jammed. No calls were going through."
In the end, it was a girl travelling in the compartment next to the first-class compartment, which blew up at Jogeshwari, who got through to an uncle, who called up Hasit. She had found Tushit's wallet and cellphone. "She said Tushit was being sent to a hospital but she could not say which, because she was not allowed to get into the ambulance." So Meeta and Esha, along with a neighbour and his wife, rushed to Goregaon's municipal hospital. But the hospital authorities directed them to Cooper Hospital in Vile Parle. From South Mumbai, Hasit, his parents and other relatives had also set out for Cooper, while Mayur set out from Dahisar.
When they reached Cooper at 11 pm, it was a chaos. "It looked like a slaughterhouse," says Meeta. "The bodies were all piled up, one on top of the other. We had to trample over so many bodies." Finally, the authorities laid them out in an orderly manner and Mayur found Tushit's body.
After that, came the formalities. "Initially, there was talk that all bodies would be released only after a post mortem," says Hasit. "Naturally, this did not go down well with the people waiting to take their loved ones home. Then came a new order that stated that postmortems would be conducted only on those bodies which had not been identified."
There were more hassles: The Mumbai police and railway police had panchnamas to be filled. There were three copies to each but since there was a shortage of carbon paper and no photocopying machine, each copy had to be filled in individually or photocopied later. "There was a long queue," remembers Meeta. Thankfully, some volunteers rushed around to get the forms photocopied, while others handed out refreshments. In the end, the Shahs were able to take Tushit's body out of the hospital at 3.30 am.
"I saw him last when he left for his Worli office at 7.15 am," says Meeta. "We had tea, he had toast and butter and he was happy, because Esha, who had finished her Class 10 exams, had just got her admission confirmed in Patkar College." She had to do the formalities for Esha's admission that day. "So Tushit told me, 'Get everything done, we will go out for a celebratory dinner tonight,"' says Meeta.
She remembers what Tushit was wearing that day-black trousers and a white shirt with thin, red lines. "It was one of my favourite shirts," says Meeta.
She is shaking with sobs now Mother and daughter cling to each other. Esha does not cry: tears just flow down her face silently It is too painful for me; I look outside. At a distance, I can see a wide expanse of mangroves. And I can hear the chirping of sparrows.
When Meeta recovers, I ask her about her marriage. "Tushit means heaven in Sanskrit... so what else can I say," she says. "I had a most beautiful marriage. On December 11, we would have completed 20 years. He said that on our 25th wedding anniversary, our daughter would be celebrating her 21st birthday and we should have a big party" Meeta bursts into tears but recovers quickly.
"Tushit was very loving and caring," she says. "He went out of his way to help people. He would never get scared. My husband taught me to be strong. Now I will see how much he has taught me."
The silence hangs heavy as I say goodbye. Downstairs, at the housing society office, retired administrator G.M. Mehta tells me Tushit was the secretary of the society "He was a gentleman who co-operated with everybody," he says. At the gate, Brij Mohan, the guard, says simply, "He was a very nice man."
I spot Mayur, who is rushing back to his TV repair shop, and I ask him what I couldn't, with the family around-how badly injured was Tushit's body? He tells me, but I can't bring myself to put it into words here.
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