I grew up in Bombay, not Mumbai. In the 1950s, it was cosmopolitan and vibrant and a lot of fun. Just looking at the Taj from the Gateway of India—Palva Bunder as we called it—was enough to give me a thrill. I could not afford even a cup of tea in the Taj then. Years later in 1993, when I came to give the Exim Bank lecture, I was able to stay there, in the old Taj, on one of those higher floors. I have stayed again several times. It was the haven of perfection, a pure joy.

Seeing the Taj burn was bad enough. The people of Bombay, who gathered angrily, had me with them every inch. My anger during those 60 hours made me believe that perhaps India itself will see how much was lost in that attack on its sovereignty. Perhaps, Indian politicians would mend their ways and unite. I could see that many people holding candles were looking up to their leaders to deliver.

Fat chance. The response of the political classes has been muffled and cynical and smug. The one shining exception is P. Chidambaram, the new Home Minister. He has been the only politician to say sorry to people of Bombay. Otherwise, the country was asked to get back to its foetal position and start blaming Pakistan. Police and politicians went on air repeating the story that the one surviving terrorist was telling them, as if the man is telling the truth. The BBC sent a reporter to where he is supposed to be from and found no one who had heard of him. He is as likely an Indian as he is an Arab, for all anyone knows. Of course, what he told them was what he was instructed to say, since the enemy knows how gullible Indian authorities are. The familiar names of Dawood Ibrahim and ISI and LeT were fed to the interrogators.

... contd.