26/11 was just another day till the attacks, say survivors and next of kin

In coordinated attacks that started at night, 10 Lashkar-e-Taiba (LeT) terrorists from Pakistan rained terror, death and injury across Mumbai 15 years ago. While 160 people died and over 300 others were injured according to official estimates, the terror unleashed that day came at a very high cost for survivors like Phad and the next of kin like Anjali.

Just 7 years old in 2008, Anjali says her father Vinod, 31, was the family’s sole breadwinner at the time of the attacks.

“My grandmother had a late-night train to Patna from CST, so my father went to drop her. Mummy (Savitri), Nikita (her younger sister) and I were at home, when my aunt called us from Kolkata after seeing the news,” Anjali says, adding that her mother called up her father immediately.

“His phone kept ringing. After the fourth or fifth ring, someone finally picked up his phone and told my mother that the owner of the phone was lying dead on the platform,” says Anjali, adding that her father had been shot in the chest, while her grandmother had sustained bullet injuries on her hip and calf.

“That night not only changed my life completely, but also my perception towards life,” says Anjali, who works as a data analyst with a Pune-based international firm at present.

The “older” of two sisters, Anjali says she was forced to grow up overnight to fill in for her mother, who had to step into her husband’s empty shoes. She adds, “Your loss can either make you weak or build you up stronger.”

Phad, who was a driver for a senior bureaucrat at Mantralaya during 26/11, lost a finger due to a bullet injury. “I had returned from duty and was having dinner when we heard gunshots. And then, we saw the news on TV,” he recalls.

Moments later, he received a call from his employer, who asked him to come to Mantralaya. Despite his family’s protests, Phad, who lives very close to St Xavier’s College, left for office. As he reached near the college, he spotted two terrorists walking. “They were walking near the college with backpacks. Till they shot at a bike, I thought they were students,” Phad recalls.

Maruti Phad, 47, lost a finger in the 26/11 attacks. (Express Photo by Amit Chakravarty)

He says he drove the car towards the terrorists, but they jumped on the footpath. “They started firing at my car. I was aware that my family could see the shooting — since we live very, very close to that spot — so I adjusted my seat to hide myself. Though several bullets missed their mark, one pierced my right palm,” he says.

As he heard the terrorists shoot at another vehicle, a terrified Phad had the presence of mind to play dead. “I smeared blood from my injured finger on my head to make it seem as if I was dead,” he says.

Forty minutes later, a patrol car whisked him to a hospital. Despite receiving treatment, he lost a finger.

“Things were never the same for my family after 26/11. My wife and sons were so petrified that they moved back to our native place in Latur. I continued to work at Mantralaya (the state government’s administrative headquarters). They finally returned to Mumbai eight years ago — after my elder son got admission in a college here,” he says.

For the Gupta women, Vinod’s untimely demise meant extreme financial hardship. He was a mechanic in a garage.

“After his demise, my mother got a job on compassionate grounds as a group-D Railways worker. Since she was working and we could not afford help, I had to take care of my sister, who was just 1-year-old then,” Anjali recalls.

So she donned multiple hats — that of a good student at school and a mother to her younger sister at home. “I would see girls my age live a happy life with their parents and get excited about their future. It would upset me. 26/11 not only forced me to mature quite early, but also made me responsible. My mother had a brain stroke recently, but I didn’t get scared,” says Anjali, who completed her engineering with help from some charitable foundations.

Phad, who was promoted to assistant desk officer in the agricultural department at Mantralaya in 2021, claimed he has never accepted any award or compensation from the government. He adds, “Surviving 26/11 was my life’s biggest bonus. Though that night changed the trajectory of my life, I would do again what I did that day — fight and not hide.”

On her biggest learning from the tragedy, Anjali says, “Despite losing my father in a terror attack, I don’t attribute terrorism to a particular religion or community. As citizens, we have to be sensitive and compassionate towards each other because hate and violence are futile.”