The siege in Mumbai's Taj Hotel just ended a few minutes ago. My thoughts and prayers go out to the people in Mumbai. May you find strength and hope to recover from this extreme act of terrorism.
The Special Sting of Personal Terrorism
It is ironic that last week, in the New York Times' 'Week in Review' there was an article about American-born-Indians choosing to work in India, their ancestral country, because of America's failing economy, and India's emergence as one of the fastest growing financial centres. But in the Mumbai attacks, we saw that the terrorists cherry picked their targets. Unlike the previous attacks, the terrorists had a close encounter with the victims. They asked the hostages their names, and decided their fate based on their nationality and religion.
At times like this, it is crucial that we keep in mind that scapegoating people of one particular religion will not help us in solving the epidemic of terrorism. We really need to put aside our bogus differences, and really need to work together to fix the problems our world is facing. I know, I sound like a broken record.
What They Hate About Mumbai
As this article points out, the attacks may have originated in Pakistan, but it will be India's Muslims who would have to endure the backlash.
“The Second Coming” - William Butler Yeats
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
The Special Sting of Personal Terrorism
It is ironic that last week, in the New York Times' 'Week in Review' there was an article about American-born-Indians choosing to work in India, their ancestral country, because of America's failing economy, and India's emergence as one of the fastest growing financial centres. But in the Mumbai attacks, we saw that the terrorists cherry picked their targets. Unlike the previous attacks, the terrorists had a close encounter with the victims. They asked the hostages their names, and decided their fate based on their nationality and religion.
At times like this, it is crucial that we keep in mind that scapegoating people of one particular religion will not help us in solving the epidemic of terrorism. We really need to put aside our bogus differences, and really need to work together to fix the problems our world is facing. I know, I sound like a broken record.
What They Hate About Mumbai
As this article points out, the attacks may have originated in Pakistan, but it will be India's Muslims who would have to endure the backlash.
“The Second Coming” - William Butler Yeats
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
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