Advaita Kalaremembers a ‘kid’ she lost and the two iconic hotels locked in a shared destiny of terror

I lost a kid yesterday. That’s what I used to call my trainees as a faculty member of the Management Training Programme at the Taj. He was a young man of immense promise — I remember being the first person to make a welcome call to him and invite him into the company. His cheerful “thank you” still resonates, and the many interactions we had where I calibrated his youthful expectations and then watched him grow over the next two years was a special journey we made. He died sometime on the morning of November 27. The last time his batchmate spoke with him he was making sandwiches for guests who were trapped and hiding out in the kitchen. Some were crying, he said, and they heard gunshots; but they would be fine. Remarkably cheerful, serving his guests, living his lessons, he said he would call back soon. We never heard from him again.

The Taj and The Oberoi are institutions of Indian hospitality. In a sense they represent attitudes that Indians are known for around the world for — our hospitality, humility and natural cheer. Today, these two fierce competitors of the past are locked in a shared destiny of terror and grief. As reports emerge of casualties, close to nothing is known of the staff members — at around 10 pm, there would be so many of them at the hotel, moving in and out of shifts. Always in the background, hoteliers are trained to be present but never visible. The same, it seems applies in death as well.

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