12th March 1993

12th March 1993. Me and my friend Jayesh Padake were at Worli having our lunch in a popular Udipi restaurant diagonally opposite old passport office. As you enter the restaurant, we were sitting on the left side, two benches away from the counter. On our left side were a middle aged parsi couple, sitting next to a big mirror.
After we finished our lunch and waited for the bill to arrive, we both heard some deafeningly loud sound. Looking at eachother, I asked Jayesh, kasla awaaz re? ( what was that noise ? ). As Jayesh looked at me, within a nanosecond, just like in the movies….the whole restaurant was blown to smithereens and my eyes saw the better part getting blasted, since Jayesh was sitting with his back to this shocking moment. Stunned and glued to my seat, digesting what had happened, it took me almost a minute to realize the commotion around me and Jayesh missing. As I darted towards the entrance now in my full senses, my file slipped off my hands in the chaos, which somehow I managed to retrieve with one hand trying to adjust my contacts …….. It was a sight I will never forget in my life – people running helter skelter, a taxi driver lying most probably dead next to his Taxi, A BEST double decker bus’s top part ripped off….As I came on the main road and faced the restaurant, I shouted to myself, kisne bomb lagaya? ( who planted the bomb ? ) Still clueless, I just had one thing on mind, Where is Jayesh ? This fateful day, I had coaxed him to join me, since I had work in Worli and I would have been responsible if God forbid something would have had happened…..
Jayesh walks towards me from my left side calling my name. I rushed towards him with joy only to find blood trickling down his face, which was probably because something fell on his head as he got out of restaurant. We walked speechless towards old passport office just to be turned down by several Taxi wallah’s and private cars for a lift.Wanting to rush home ASAP we were trying our best to get a lift, since Jayesh was bleeding continuously, but nobody cared to stop even though traffic was moving at snail’s pace. I used to stay at Dadar,Hindu Colony 3rd lane with my grandparents those days and was the best place to get medical help for Jayesh fast, since my grandmother knew almost all the doctors in Hindu Colony.
Finally a jeep stopped and we both asked the person if he could give us a lift. And as though god was driving himself, the gentlemen turned out to be a resident of Hindu Colony, about 2 lanes away from my house. As we went a little further a group of people stopped the car, forcibly started thrusting a injured boy in the jeep. They insisted that we take him to a particular hospital, but calmed down and let us go, after I told them that the boy will be taken care of.
After reaching Hindu Colony my family doctor directed us to Khandeparkar Hospital since they were better equipped to handle injuries. The gentleman who gave us a lift, finally dropped us at the hospital and left. I absolutely have no words to thank him. God bless him and his family. No sooner had we entered the hospital and were speaking with the doctor, yet another blast sound rocked the place. This was confirmed when a group of boys got a person with his bloodied back, a victim of Plaza cinema bomb blast. I requested the doctor concerned in Khandeparkar’s if they could tend to Jayesh and the boy who had come with us, putting forward my granmother's name. Jayesh had to take couple of stitches, without any anesthesia, brave boy. I would have passed out at the sight of a needle.
After reaching my grandparents house we called our respective parents, who were unaware about our escapade and how we missed our bus to heaven…….fortunately !!!!
Finally Jayesh went home with his uncle who had come to pick him up. I still remember him, sitting behind his uncle on scooter with his bandaged head, heading back home to chembur, with my typical goan cane hat to cover his head. We often joke about it, during his journey to chembur on scooter, he must have left people wondering about the necessity of “goan hat”. Alas, if only they had seen underneath the hat….
I profusely thank our stars for favouring us, especially me to have come out of that blast without a single scratch, only to find, a small itsy bitsy piece of glass in my right foot after 7 days……..And here I am, writing this after 14 years and ……still have to pay our lunch bill !!!

It took 14 years to end this blast trial and get the b******s involved, the deserved punishment. Several families who suffered due to this incident, lost their dear ones, must have heaved a sigh of relief…hmm relief after 14 years ???? I say the perpetrators should have been executed mercilessly long back ago. Does that include Mr Sanjay Dutt ? From the bottom of my heart I would like to believe he’s innocent and want to see him do what he does best, acting. But as far as keeping the weapons in his house, I have two pertinent questions lingering in my mind.
1) Was this man a child to keep a weapon of “mass destruction” AK-56s in his house and not understand the consequences he may have to face thereafter or was he plain stupid and ignorant.
2) If he wanted to protect his family. He could have got a licensed pistol or asked for police protection or any other form of protection. WHY keep a AK 56 ? It is not a weapon used for self-defence, but is an assault rifle, used to attack and kill.
The world knows what this man has gone through in his life and I sincerely pray that not a soul has to go through any of the ordeals Sanjay Dutt has been facing. But, isn’t he responsible for his acts? And before I end this, I hope the media, film fraternity and public in general who are not affected by the 93 blasts should think a little hard and feel for the families who lost their dear ones in the 93 blasts, before giving their unjust opinions and cease creating a sympathy wave for Mr Sanjay Dutt.

Kip expressing :)