Bali and Bombay, the twin international datelines for terror, both know that there are many ways to thumb your nose at terrorists. Back home in Mumbai, taxi drivers and office-goers, vendors and idle passersby went about their business as usual less than 24 hours after the twin bomb blasts on Black Monday.
In Bali, they—the Australian tourists who have long thronged this beautiful isle—do it a little differently. They relocate the bombed-out Paddy’s Pub a few hundred yards from its old venue, turn on the music, and offer Happy Hours (‘‘two for one’’) to all those who arrive at the door this weekend to mark the anniversary of the night that shattered this resort’s paradisical calm.
On October 12 last year, scores of young men and women, mostly Australian, were doing what they invariably do in Bali’s hip quarter of Kuta. Legin Street in Kuta, lined with pubs and nightclubs, throbbed with raucous music as spirits flowed and the young played hard at having fun.
Among them was Tom Singer, a 17-year-old, ‘‘just a kid doing the things kids do’’, and Belinda (Bindy) & Amber, ‘‘two special young ladies’’, and Tom Howard and Josh Deeger, and many, many others when bombs ripped through two of the most ‘‘happening’’ spots on Legin Street—Paddy’s Pub and the Sari Club.
The faces of those who died, their names and their memories, stare out from the wall that once lined the Sari Club. That’s where you meet Tom Singer and Josh Deeger and find big wreaths of white paper flowers ‘‘for the forgotten Bali people’’, and sentimental cards that say ‘‘a grandson is a loveable, huggable wonder.’’
Across the street, where the original Paddy’s Pub stood, the land has been planted with scores of plantain trees. Down the road is its new avatar, trying hard to transmute painful nostalgia to carefree nonchalance with a huge sign outside that says: ‘‘Welcome to Paddy’s Pub—Back to Bali Party.’’ The party will begin from 9 pm on October 10 and will probably carry on till Sunday.
They may not join the party, but lots of Australians are expected to walk down the streets and beaches of Kuta this Sunday. Leading them will be Australian Prime Minister John Howard who is coming to attend the memorial service marking the first anniversary of the Bali bombing.
That the bombing scarred Australia more than Bali is clear from many of the plaques put up on the Sari Club wall. The biggest of them screams ‘‘Aussie, Aussie, Aussie—Rest in Peace my fellow Aussies. May we all meet again one day.’’
While John Howard will lead his countrymen to mourn the dead, Indonesian president Megwati Sukarnoputri has decided to stay away.
Her decision, it was announced here this week, was ‘‘out of respect for the religious and cultural values of the Balinese people’’—yet another reflection of the sensitivity shown by Indonesia to its own Hindu minority.
The Indonesian minister of foreign affairs Hassan Wirayuda told reporters that the decision was taken after consultations with the Balinese authorities and religious leaders. ‘‘It is not part of their tradition to commemorate the deaths especially after the holding of a grand ceremony to purify the island in November last year after the blasts,’’ he said.
Tourism is slowly picking up in Bali once again though it will take a while for it to reach the earlier levels. But on Legin Street, young and old foreigners from different parts of the world try hard to recreate the spirit of abandon, dancing to loud rap and, at the request of some middle-aged Indian visitors, even to Sixties’ rock ’n roll.
A message on the Sari Club wall says, ‘‘Osama Don’t Surf’’ and another says ‘‘We must never allow the terrorists to win.’’ Down the street, we hear strains of that old Janis Joplin number, ‘‘Move On’’. That song captures the mood in Bali today as it seeks to shrug off a nightmare and recreate its erstwhile magic.