Bombay blast blues...

It's happened again. Blasts in Mumbai. Terrorist attacks. 3 of them within half an hour. Again, it is a major media story. Again, phone lines are jammed. And again, people are starting to go back to their lives as normal.

Personally, only one thing has changed: me. I am no longer sitting in the comfort of my home in Kuwait and watching the news of local train blasts, nor am I sitting tensed in a dorm in Toronto, following the latest on the Taj attacks.

This time, I am sitting in my house in Mumbai, in Dadar, 10 minutes away from the blast. And it feels wrong.

Those last two times, I was at a distance: far away to do anything, or to ask for more information than was available. But today, I am in the city. I am just a short walk away from the spot of the blast, I am craving some news about what has happened, and all I keep hearing is: don't get out of your house.

True, these messages are all from friends and family. True, they are all thinking about my safety. True, they are all probably right.

But despite being aware of that truth, all I want to do is go out. Perhaps it is the kid in me that wants to rebel against restrictions. Or perhaps it is the gossip in me that craves information. Or perhaps it is the human in me that wants to help others. I'm hoping it's the latter.

I know, I'm a 22-year-old kid. What help could I possibly offer? I would probably be more of a hindrance than anything. It's not as though I'll be the mighty rescuer. But I never thought that I would feel more helpless sitting in Mumbai than I would sitting 1000 miles away.

Yes, safety is an issue. A very valid issue. I'm lucky to have been sitting in my home, and not waiting for a bus at the stop where the blast happened. And I'm grateful for that. But there were others who weren't so lucky. And knowing that makes it a little difficult to sit comfortably in your own house.

But I think Mumbaikars know that. I remember when the train blasts happened, life in Mumbai was back to normal (according to media) the next day. Life here does not stop. Back then, I thought this was actually a sign of indifference towards terrorism - and indifference towards the cost of human life.

Now, sitting here, I understand the need for people to go back to normalcy. I need to feel like I'm doing something worthwhile in my life. What's the point of having a life if we spend it cooped up in fear? I want to get up in the morning, get on my bus, and go to school - if for no other reason except that it will give me an excuse to get out.

Again, that would be the reckless side of me talking. We all have an image of ourselves. I picture myself (aspirationally) as someone who can be of help to others when they really need it. This is a time when people do need help. But this is also a time when I am sitting comfortably at home. If I were out there, amongst the crowd, I would probably run. As much as I picture myself as the person who would rush to help others, I'm afraid that I might run.

I think I'm afraid of being afraid.