I shifted to Bombay some two years back from Delhi. Like any other dilliwala, Taj Mahal Hotel was something you just instinctively associated with anything Bombayite, be it the Gateway, the varied background shots of the Taj from innumerable Hindi films and the fact that everyday from my office perch in Fort I could clearly see its dome and the upper floors only served to reinforce the sense that Taj was as much part of the mesmeric landscape here as was the Gateway of India or indeed the Arabian sea itself. So early this year when I actually got a chance to stay in the heritage wing for a week as part of an international conference, it was as luxurious an adventure as possible. Of course, I was not in any of the super opulent suites but roaming around the silent wooden corridors, the magnificent spiral staircase, gazing away somewhat embarrassingly at the dome above it, and having breakfast in the verandah connecting the Palace wing to the Shamiana restaurant was opulent enough for me.
Witnessing the cold blooded murder of those dear memories over the past 60 hours has been tortuous to say the least, it is indescribable. Every benumbing second I spent in front of the television, it was impossible to get away from it; in my mind I kept revisiting the Taj. One day during the conference having gotten up early I decided to venture out through door flanked by the quaint wooden horses and the sky was overcast. But the façade was just as majestic even in the soft light of the dawn. And then, it started to turn a reddish golden as if a million multicolored floodlights had been switched on. I clambered up the spiral staircase and went and sat in the Sea Lounge, the restaurant on the first floor overlooking the sea. The clouds had vanished and the sun appeared to be acknowledging the mute greetings of the scores of boats of all shapes and sizes bobbing up and down in the waters around the Gateway of India. Today from what the media tells us, the spiral staircase leading almost up to the dome is gone and as one can see, the façade has suffered serious damage.
The main lobby that connects the Old Taj to the Tower side is probably the liveliest part of the whole complex, day or night. The thirty meter passage is flanked by bars and restaurants and of course exclusive outlets of luxurious brands. It also show cases old black and white pictures of the legions of Indian and foreign celebrities who have stayed in the Taj in the past. During my stay I saw hordes of giggling foreigners, some dressed up in ethnic Indian costumes, posing for pictures like excited kids in Disney’s Magic Kingdom. The point is that the whole ambience is such that it transports you to another era. I realised this is why these people booked a room here in the first place, to experience the India of the regal past, of the opulent maharajahs and the khidmatgari that made you feel like a royal even if you probably were on a business visit to close a deal for a outsourcing medical transcription services! I shudder to think what has become of that passage and those b&w photographs.
There are scores of other delicate memories that keep floating in and out of my vision. And how can one forget the excellent service provided by the Taj staff. During my week there I made numerous completely unreasonable requests, ranging from asking for a high end Mercedes at 3 am in the morning, or a meal at an equally unearthly hour. But there is one memory I will cherish the most. One time we got a request late in the night from a very distinguished person who was going to address our conference the following morning at 7 am for a lapel microphone when we in fact had made arrangements for a podium. So I call up my event manager at midnight asking him if he can arrange it. I can, he says after some serious cajoling, only if the Taj people let me get in at 6 am. Next, with some trepidation, I call up my contact person at the Taj, a lady who probably thought I was insane. “It would be taken care of, Sir”, she signs off with just a touch of coldness in her voice. Next morning I rushed to the meeting room expecting to see serious electrical work in progress with cables trailing all over the place. But lo! the room was spic and span with the sound mechanics doing a final discreet check and it was just 6 am!
Dear Taj and staff members, I pray that you all recover from this tragedy and I am sure you will.
