A horrific terrorist attack has ravaged one of Mumbai’s most-loved symbols and taken the lives of many of its dedicated staff. This heritage hotel was not started as a commercial venture. It was Jamsetji Tata’s gift to the city he loved — as the Taj Mahal of Agra was Shah Jahan’s memorial to the woman he loved.

MUMBAI’S PRIDE: Before the Gateway of India was built, the Taj Mahal offered the first view of the city of Bombay to ships sailing into the harbour. Even now, with many more tall buildings on the skyline, the hotel engages immediate attention.
The 1880s and 1890s were a time of great construction in Bombay. The Grand Victoria Terminus was built, and after it the Municipal Corporation building, another beautiful structure, followed by the Churchgate headquarters of the B.B. & C.I. Railways (now Western Railways). But there was no hotel worthy of the growing city.

Being an ardent fan of Mark Twain, Jamsetji Tata may have read of the writer’s fate in the so-called ‘best’ Watson’s Hotel: Mark Twain and his family were roused every morning at dawn by doors slamming, servants shouting, and “fiendish bursts of laughter, explosions of dynamite.” The Irish chef at the hotel was apparently more conversant with the French language that with French cooking, “serving up Irish stew on 14 occasions under 14 different French names.” Sir Stanley Reed, Editor of The Times of India, said Jamsetji had an intense pride and affection for the city of his birth, and when a friend protested against the intense discomforts of hotel life in Bombay, he growled: “I will build one.”

One day without consulting anybody, not even his sons or partners, he announced his plan to build a grand hotel. It was his personal contribution and money he was putting in — not that of Tata & Sons. Along the present Yacht Club at Apollo Bunder was a little bay where yachts used to scull. The British were reclaiming the land and he bought a substantial site of two-and-a-half acres on November 1, 1898 on a 99-year lease. There was no formal laying of a foundation stone but a traditional coconut was broken and a Parsi diva (oil lamp) was lit, perhaps by the well or spring between the present swimming pool and the lifts. This ceremony took place in 1900.

Many an interesting story is invented round the Taj being designed by an Italian/French architect who, after his exertions, went home and returned to find the building was put the wrong way around — what should have been in the rear was in front and vise versa. Heartbroken he went to the top floor of the Taj and flung himself out of the window. Dramatic! Touching! But not true. As anyone who stayed at the then-non-air-conditioned Taj in the summer would attest, the late afternoon breezes that blow across Colaba do not spring up from the harbour but sweep in from across Back Bay. The U-shaped wings of the hotel were positioned to trap this breeze and extract the most benefit.

Indeed, the necessity to draw whatever relief there might be from the torrid heat of western India was certainly the inspiration behind the hotel’s two most original features. At the time, the clientele Jamsetji expected was from abroad and his endeavour was to make the hotel as cool as possible. Thus it had high ceilings and wide corridors, which would be conducive to air circulation. Furthermore, the Wellington Mews — another property Jamsetji bought — behind the hotel site was where the horses and carriages were housed and these could roll in directly from the west side.

One convincing explanation comes from the daughter of a Goan customs officer, Francis Xavier D’Mello, who was stationed in the customs shed at Apollo Bunder and witnessed the Taj rising stone by stone: “Jamsetji Tata came regularly to watch his great hotel being built. The customs shed provided the only shelter from the blazing sun, so Mr. Tata used to come there and have long chats with my father. Once my father asked him why he had put the entrance to the Taj at the back, and Jamsetji told him that he wanted the majority of his hotel guests to have rooms overlooking the sea. Jamsetji surely had some hand in his broad instructions to the architect.”

Sadly, having designed the Taj along with a Parsi architect under Jamsetji’s instructions, Sitaram died of malaria. The dome designed on the model of the Victoria Terminus (now Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus) had not been built. W.A. Chambers was called to help. Khansahib Sorabji Contractor built the solid structure.

The prospectus for the hotel to be underlined some salient features: “The Hotel, when completed, will be five storeys high, and will accommodate, beside hotel boarders to the number of 500, a number of permanent residents. Immense cellars, below the ground floor level will contain the refrigeration plant, which will cool the rooms of the inmates, and will also enable their food to be stored in a manner foreign to India. The ground floor will be occupied by the offices, first-class restaurants, and shops for the sale of articles generally desired by travellers. The first floor will be mostly taken up with a grand dining room, drawing room, reading rooms, billiard room, and a few grand suites, all provided with electric fans. The second, third, fourth and fifth floors will contain bedrooms, mostly double and furnished in the Continental style with sofa, tables and chairs, and other furniture, and on each floor bathrooms and lavatories. The kitchens etc., will be on the top of the house with a roof garden. The Hotel will be lighted throughout with electric lights, and many lifts, also worked by electricity, will convey residents from floor to floor with comfort. A Turkish bath will also be fitted up in the Hotel.”

Jamsetji personally went to order the electrical machinery from Dusseldorf and chandeliers from Berlin. Furthermore, he made sure that if by chance electricity failed, a back up system of gas lights was at hand. There was the in-house soda bottling plant, an electric laundry, fans from the USA — and the first spun-steel pillars from the Paris Exhibition where the Eiffel Tower was then the latest wonder of the world. These pillars, a hundred years later, hold up the ceiling of the Banquet Hall.

For all his projects Jamsetji got the costing done thoroughly but not for the Taj. It was his gift to the city he loved — as the Taj Mahal of Agra was Shah Jahan’s memorial to the woman he loved. It cost about Rs. 25 lakh. When the hotel opened, it had a large staff of waiters but only seven guests. It was Bombay’s first public building to be lit by electricity and when it happened, those present outside clapped as they saw it lit.

As if such a grand edifice was not enough, he purchased two small islands near Uran called Panjoo and Dongri so that the guests at the Taj could go on picnics.

Jamsetji wanted to lease out the Taj to an experienced European hotelier. The plans fell through and finding the staff and running the hotel was to fall initially on him in 1902 and later on his partners and colleagues. The Gateway of India came up only in 1924 to commemorate the visit of King Emperor George V and Queen Mary in 1911. Before that at the Gateway site, sahibs used to sit at tables sipping burra and chotta pegs.

Perhaps, says Allen and Dwivedi (who have done research on the Taj), Jamsetji believed in starting a new venture on an auspicious date, Muhurat as it is called. It was decided to open the hotel on December 16, 1903, before the building was complete. Only one wing was ready and the dome had not been completed. A study of Jamsetji’s medical reports of the late-1903 shows his health was deteriorating. His sons and colleagues may have decided to speed up the opening so he could have the satisfaction of seeing at least one of his dreams come true. Steel, the hydro-electric venture, and the Indian Institute of Science came up after his death.

Five months after the Muhurat, when Jamsetji died, a leading journal of Calcutta, The Empress, wrote in the obituary: “The new hotel represented, to Mr. Tata, something more than a mere commercial venture, and he had determined that the Taj Mahal Hotel should set an example, which should re-act throughout India, in removing one of the greatest hindrances to agreeable travel in this country. The plans were drawn with the sole purpose of securing an entirely worthy building, and he looked for no immediate financial returns. There is something peculiarly saddening in the coincidence that the fixing of the key-stone of the noble dome should have preceded, but only a few days, the death of the man who inspired it.”

The lives of the clientele, which was mainly British, revolved round news from home. The P. & O. brought the mail every Friday morning and left every Saturday evening. The London GPO’s largest single destination was mail for India. It was rushed from London, sorted out between Aden and Bombay and special bags delivered within an hour of the arrival of the steamer. Saturday was spent in answering letters. The Sea Lounge at the Taj was created as a letter-writing room and by special arrangement mail from the Taj was directly delivered to the ship.

In years to come, world-renowned personalities have stayed there, from Somerset Maugham and Duke Ellington to Lord Mountbatten and Bill Clinton. The hotel was featured in a hundred books, including Louis Bromfield’s One Night in Bombay, which is centred on the Taj.

The maharajas become the great patrons of the Taj and invited the hotel to do special catering in their states. The Chamber of Princes was to meet there regularly every January — hence the ‘Princes’ Room’ at the southern end of the Taj. The business maharajas were to follow next; today the Taj is the most sought after venue for wedding receptions, and one can frequently see fire crackers being let off at the gate as the bridegroom’s party dances merrily away.

As there was no Gateway of India for 20 years after the Taj came up, the hotel offered the first view of the city to ships sailing into the harbour until 1924. Even now, with many more tall buildings on the skyline, the hotel engages immediate attention. It is a symbol of Mumbai.

(Russi M. Lala is the author of For the Love of India — The Life and Times of Jamsetji Tata. He lives near the Taj Mahal and even closer to Nariman House.)

© Copyright 2000 – 2008 The Hindu

In Mumbai’s teeming history lies the hope for our recovery
The resilience of this great cosmopolitan city has been tested like never before

At the Parsi fire temple a few minutes from the Taj Mahal hotel, the second sitting at dinner was coming to an end. A large Parsi wedding – and all of them are big, fat Indian weddings – has three dinner sittings, where the guests, after lining up to give the bride and groom "the packet" (an envelope containing cash), go to the bar for a large Scotch and soda or two, then wait their turn to be seated for dinner.

The star of the meal is the patra ni machi, fish coated with green chutney and steamed in a banana leaf, but it’s only one course of a many-splendoured meal. As the second sitting finished their last bit of dessert, and the third lot of diners were about to begin their meal, some of the first-sitting guests began to dance to the band which was belting out old Abba numbers along with Frank Sinatra singing "My Way".

And then the news came. Leopold’s, an old Irani-style cafe in Colaba, popular with the firang (foreigner) back-pack crowd, had been attacked by gun-weilding terrorists. Then, in quick succession, the Trident and the Taj, the city’s two best known hotels, were under siege. The third sitting continued, but in complete silence.

The Parsi wedding, with its sumptuous banquet, has been an intrinsic part of the city scene. As have the Punjabi sangeet, the Muslim nikah, the Mahrashtrain lagna, all disparate parts of a composite whole which has survived many attempts to destroy it.

That’s because Mumbai is a resilient city, much of its resilience coming from its cosmopolitan fibre: the industrious strain that comes from the people who have settled here from the South of India; the North Indians with their willingness to undertake the most menial of tasks cheerfully; the entrepreneurial Parsis and Marwaris who set up its cotton mills and industries; Gujarati traders and businessmen … All these came together to produce the DNA of Mumbai and its rubber ball-like ability to bounce back from wherever it was thrown.

Yet on Wednesday night, that resilience has been tested like it’s never been tested before. Mumbai is not new to terrorist attacks: bombs have been placed in buildings, in trains, in the marketplace. These bombs have killed many people too. But the killings were random and the dead were, by and large, the men on the street.

On Wednesday, those young men – armed to their teeth, answering to heaven knows what call from where – who stormed the Taj and the Trident, targeted the citadels of the privileged. They also targeted foreigners, who may be fleeced but are never under threat in India. In choosing the Taj Mahal Hotel, the terrorists also chose the city’s most iconic building, one which is called the Taj needing neither suffix nor prefix, so much so that if you ask a local about the Taj Mahal, he will spontaneously say, "Oh, that’s in Agra." By attacking the privileged and the movers and shakers of the city at their iconic symbol, the terrorists were making a statement to the world and shaking the city to its core. Will it ever recover? Yes, Mumbai nee Bombay, has regrouped in the past. It has withstood the attempts of the Shiv Sena, a regional party of the State of Maharashtra to change the metropolis.

The Sena came to prominence in the 1970s by playing on the universal fear of the "immigrant". The outsider was the "Madrasi", anyone from one of the Southern states of Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh, Kerala and Karnataka. Easily distinguishable by his Dravidan features and darker skin, and his ability to work hard, well beyond the call of duty (sounds familiar?). Later when the Sena realised it needed the "Madrasi" vote, its bogeyman became the Muslim. And now an off-shoot of the Sena, the MNS (the Maharashtran Nav Nirman Samiti) has made the North Indian the object of its ire.

Workers from the northern states of Bihar and UP have been driven off factories and offices, often violently. And generally with disastrous results because they are the ones doing the menial jobs the locals do not want, and they are the ones driving the city’s decrepit taxis and they are the city’s masons and carpenters, none of them glamorous jobs, all of them involving hard work in Mumbai’s heat and dust.

If only politicians knew their history! When the Peshwas, the Maratha rulers held sway in the region, they were based in Pune, 150 kilometres away and not in Mumbai. Mumbai was a marshland, which is why nobody wanted it till the Portuguese came, and they too happily gave it away to the British as part of the dowry of Catherine de Braganza when she married Charles II.

The British were the ones who saw that Mumbai would make an excellent port. They developed it, built a walled city by constructing a fort (the central part of the city is still called Fort) and invited people they thought would be useful by giving them tax breaks, land and other incentives. This is how Parsis came to the city, and the Tatas, the Wadias and The Godrej’s who went on to build industrial empires. Other "invitees" included Muslims from Surat who were well-off businessmen willing to invest in new ventures, and Gujarati traders famed for their business acumen. There weren’t any Marathas orMaharashtrians in this mix. In fact, the original inhabitants of Mumbai were its fishermen, the Kolis, who were of – no prizes for guessing – of Dravidian origin. The Marathas came later, refugees from Peshwa wars. No wonder politicians do not remember history.

In short, Mumbai belongs to no one. Or it belongs to everyone. To the Parsi, the Marwari, the Gujarati, the Punjabi, the Englishman and the European and yes, the Maharshtrian. That’s why whatever wedges have been hammered into it from the past in an attempt to divide it have not succeeded. The terrorists holed up in the Taj and the Trident have tried their best to hammer yet another nail in. But something tells me they will not succeed.

This is not just based on a sense of hopeless optimism. Yesterday morning, after watching television news channels giving details of the horrific happenings in the city, morning walkers were out as usual, many at their usual staring point at Nariman Point, not far from the Trident. Where fires were raging and occasional shots could still be heard.

Though traffic was thinner than usual, come office hours cars, taxis and buses were on the road while commuters had boarded the trains at their usual time. Many offices had opened at their normal time and seemed determined to put out an invisible banner which said, "Business as usual". Not just that, at the sites where terrorist activity was still at its fiercest, people were milling around, some no doubt out of morbid curiosity, but many more because they wanted to help in any way they could.

This was reminiscent of the time when synchronised bombs had ripped apart Mumbai’s train service; before any official help could arrive on the scene, passengers devised their own rescue service, making taxis and auto rickshaws into temporary ambulances. That’s the spirit of Mumbai. And it will not be put down.

Anil Dharker is a Mumbai-based columnist and author whose books include ‘Icons’, a study of leading figures in contemporary India

Tears are running down our cheek,
Our grief does not let us speak.

All Indians share your pain, Bhai,
For what has happened in Mumbai.

We share your grief, Sister,
For the death of your Mister.

For the orphaned child, we have but one prayer,
May God give you days which are happier.

With hatred and murder in their heart,
From their homes, the terrorists did depart.

For strangers they had no compassion,
Hatred for everyone was their passion.

From Colaba to the railway station CST,
They killed without showing any pity.

They came with a powerful bomb
To turn the Mumbai Taj into a tomb.

The brave men of India’s armed forces retaliated,
All these despicable murderers were eliminated.

All Bharat salutes the courageous martyrs
Who sacrificed their valuable lives

To make Mumbai safe and secure.
Let there be peace and love evermore.

Days and nights of madness have now ended,
The terrorists’ souls the Devil has befriended.

For all those who have been left alive,
There is but one goal — to rebuild and thrive!

Take a few minutes today to think about them as well, in the aftermath of Mumbai’s terror. While the media and politicians and the rest of the world battles issues of responsibility and mourns the deaths of national heroes, spare a thought also for those who will probably not be remembered by the major groups but whose deaths have come nevertheless as a blow to their families and friends.

Take a minute to honor the spirit of the anonymous Mumbaiker. Wherever in the world you are, if you’ve ever lived in this city or known someone who does, if you’ve ever used the nervous system of this city – the railway, if this thought touches you, join me in honoring the true spirit of this city. Light a candle sometime today and if anyone does ask, tell them for whom you’re doing this.

Mumbai honours those who fell defending it. We also remember and honour those among us who aren’t here anymore.

Check out the entire interview here.

Does the overall death count of over 190+ people include the 9 killer terrorists?

In other related news

The Muslim Council on Sunday decided not to allow burial of the bodies of the nine terrorists killed during the Mumbai siege in the Marine Lines Bada Qabrastan (cemetery).

My suggestion is to feed them to the sharks off the coast of Mumbai, in the Arabian Sea.

There has been some criticism, or rather resignation of fate about the Police force. However…what do you expect when scumbag politicians decide where the money is allocated.

A programme was drafted for getting AK-47s and replacing obsolete weapons two years ago but it was not followed up seriously. Maharashtra, as a result, is the only state in India where most cops embark on sensitive operations with old weapons.

Ditto for bullet-proof jackets; cops here would like to sample the scientifically designed Koeffler jackets that can protect the body from any type of bullet and are used by the NSG and other commando forces the world over. But it is another article on a long wish-list.

The entire article here.

Amitav Ghosh writes in the Hindustan Times: Defeat or victory determined by response

Although there is no way of knowing, this at least is certain: if the precedent of 9/11 is taken seriously the outcome will be profoundly counterproductive. As a metaphor, the words ‘9/11’ are invested not just with the memory of what happened in Manhattan on September 11, 2001, but also with the penumbra of emotions that surround the events: the feeling that ‘the world will never be the same’, the notion that this was ‘the day the world woke up’ and so on. In this sense ‘9/11’ refers not just to the attacks but also to its aftermath, in particular to an utterly misconceived military and judicial response, one that has had disastrous consequences around the world.

Prashant Agrawal writes in the Wall Street Journal: Mumbai Attack Is a Tipping Point for India

But the hotels are much more than financial destinations; they are cultural centers. The best bookshop in Mumbai is in the Taj. Out of the 10 best restaurants in the city, half are in these two hotels. After a late night out, the 24 hour coffee shops of both hotels are filled with young people using them as late-night diners. Visit these same coffee shops in the day and you might see two families having a cup of tea discussing a matrimonial alliance. For a Mumbaiker, these hotels serve as a second home.

Every Indian is familiar with the Taj, its iconic red brick architecture façade serves as the backdrop for so many stories and Bollywood movies. So when Sonia Gandhi, the President of the ruling Congress Party, says that these are attacks on India’s prestige, she means it.

Biju Mathew writes in Samar: As the Fires Die: The Terror of the Aftermath

The human story of the innocents who died, the hotel staff who kept their cool and moved guests around the hotel through the service entryways and exits, those who helped each other escape, will not really make it to the headlines. The maintenance worker at the Oberoi who shielded guests and took the bullets in his stomach will remain unsung. The hospital orderlies who ran in and out with stretchers carrying the wounded – each time not knowing if they will make it back themselves to the ambulance, will not be noted.

Traffic was light as it has been since Wednesday night, even for a Sunday afternoon/evening. Even so, the journey took us a half and hour either way. We passed shops that were open, people out for a stroll with their families, cars driving down…but there was an air of barely concealed tension. I had my camera out for the better part of the journey and I know I drew some curious (and not necessarily friendly) glances from the other cars. In case you’re wondering what an atmosphere of terror looks like, come to Mumbai right now.

The photos I took today of Mumbai in post-terror trauma….

Here’s the media jumping onto the sympathy-brand visibility bandwagon, over the Western Express flyover. DNA asks…

Spirit of Mumbai
FOR HOW LONG?

Siddhivinayak looks quite empty by its usual standards. To my god-fearing friend I asked,

So much security for bhagwan. What happens to the bhagwan ke bhakt who’re getting blasted?

As we pulled into town, the Marine drive, a view I usually wait for since its so breath-taking and which causes me immediately to wince since its packed with people – the Marine drive was empty save for a few stragglers. On our way back though we did see a number of people carrying placards and signs of the ‘Stand up and speak, Mumbai’ variety. No photographs of that, I’m afraid. The light gave out and so did my spirit.

A number of places we passed had signboards and hoardings recalling the bravery of those who fell. Not Just Jazz By the Bay had a very simple white cloth banner with just their names. Nothing more required. Every Mumbaiker’s heart speaks the same story right now. May our brave heroes rest in peace.

The Oberoi Trident, beamed into all our households as a backdrop to Barkha Dutt (”Oh, there goes another blast! I just heard more gunfire!”) loomed in sight. It was strange how normal it felt. Just like any other day on the road, just another high-rise building to pass in town. It is indeed strange how quickly the mind wants to forget what it is horrified by. But I force myself to remember the hostages, the firing, the massacre, the blasts and the final shots of the survivors exiting. Mumbai must not forget this horror, this indignity.

And finally, the centerstage of the terror. Colaba Causeway was shut to incoming traffic so we walked in, passing Cafe Mondegar (an equally popular cafe as Leopold’s) on the way. Now on any normal day, this photograph would not have been possible since there’d be traffic zooming right through where I stood. What’s more, that shot wouldn’t have appeared either, clogged as it usually is with the pub regulars.

Today though, whatever crowd there was, was concentrated up ahead. Leopold’s Cafe, its owners said would open very quickly even if its customers took some time to start feeling safe enough to visit again. It turns out they did open this morning but had to shut shop because there was too much crowd. Mumbai, I’d say you amaze me, if I did have any emotion left to feel.

The TV crews were still parked outside and around Leopold’s though mercifully we didn’t see scores of reporters jostling for soundbytes. I guess even media-hounds need their rest and thank heaves for that.

And last of all, the Taj Mahal hotel. We couldn’t get too close as it was cordoned off. Here’s the closest I could get to it, relying on my camera’s zoom. This was shot from Colaba Causeway, in the lane next to Leopold’s.

Since we couldn’t congregate at Leopold’s as per the original plan, we went into Cafe Mondegar. Slowly, bitterly, unwilling as it may be, Mumbai limps back to life.

On our way back, we saw the Peace March begin, people walking with candles.

The way I see it, each of us can help in our small ways to prevent repetition of the 26/11 episode mainly in two ways.

Firstly, We should all say No to Corruption . Corruption amounts to compromise of Intergrity. When Intergrity is lost everything is lost. As responsible citizens we should lead our lives with Intergrity and Discipline. When we do this we naturally prevent growth of all anti social elements.

Secondly, and most importantly, it is high time that like Israel, Government of India(GOI) formulates a Policy wherein atleast one member of a family should enroll in the Armed Forces and other members contribute towards Community Service for a few hours in a Week. It is not fair that some bravehearts lay down their life to protect ours and on the other side corrupt Government Officials, Politicians and Business men indulge in eroding the nation . Lets all of us contribute equally towards maintaining the Security of our Country. I am sure Citizens realize this and like Prince Williams and Prince Harry they will be glad to to be enrolled in Armed Forces simultaneously to pursuing their careers.

This is a very interesting idea. Obviously Israel has more reasons than India to force a draft to the military. What are your thoughts ?