Nothing seems normal anymore. In the red glare of the television footage you see scenes that belong to no place you know. And yet you know it so well. You can imagine the sing-channa sellers, the cold drink stalls, the tangewallahs that could have been loitering on the seafront; and they may be the men crouching behind the road divider, their hands held high to indicate that they are not the enemy. Across the road, behind the large tinted windows of the Trident hotel behind which businessmen from different parts of the world could have been conferring over a pre-dinner aperitif, tall fires rage. Mumbai has been the victim of repeated terrorist strikes but this is the bleakest and most terrifying one yet.

At Chowpatty, next to the beach where India’s Independence leaders held their largest public meetings , the police are on the watch for escaping terrorists. And in the middle class locality of Colaba, a popular hangout for backpacking tourists and recently converted into a swishy art district, there have been gun battles. During the 1993 riots people laughed off a rumour that terrorists would launch an attack from the sea, but now there is a rubber boat wrapped in yellow plastic that is said to be one of the boats the terrorists arrived on. And the familiar pot-bellied constable is now laying down his life. Nothing seems normal anymore.

Iconic buildings and public transport — terrorists have struck there before. But this time they seem to have struck everywhere all at once with an impact that is high not just in the death toll but is far more visually disturbing. The sight of the beautiful old heritage building that houses the Taj, for instance, being overrun by gunmen and parts of it exploding under grenade attacks, sends the message that wealth and power provides no immunity from those bent on violence

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