Mumbai's Connection to the Social Web

Image courtesy: Reuters

My city was under siege for sixty agonizing hours last week. Sitting at my computer, thousands of miles away in the US, I watched in horror — helpless — as Mumbai was ravaged and scarred beyond recognition.

A friend had been shot. Brave friends risked their lives and made their way towards the terror scene to ensure his safety. I stared disbelievingly at my computer screen trying to make sense of the chaos. Where were all my family and friends? Were they okay?

Almost mechanically, I started dialing. I had done this before. On numerous occasions. The riots, the floods, the curfews… I was a seasoned Mumbaiite.

How many times had I visited Cafe Leopold for lazy conversations over greasy food and cheap beer? How many times had I walked by the Taj hotel, marveling at its majesty and grandeur each time I saw the iconic structure? How many times had I frequented South Mumbai for a reunion with friends, a good bargain and even a quick getaway? It let you disappear into the anonymity of the busy, carefree streets of Colaba — and emerge, rejuvenated. How could anyone think of destroying Mumbai? A million questions ran through my head — and I had no answers.

My city was being held hostage and I was helpless. Television channels in the US had just begun to cover the news but it wasn’t enough. I knew there was more going on because I was getting frantic text messages and calls from friends back in Mumbai. It was then that I turned to the Social Web — and never looked back.

I sat glued to Twitter and Monitter for those sixty gruelling hours, clicking every link, every news story, every picture — and every list of the injured and the dead — praying fervently as I scanned the names. Photographers like Vinukumar Ranganathan from Mumbai constantly updated Flickr with photographs of what was happening on the ground. Websites and blogs like Global Voices and Mumbai MetBlogs were putting up real-time information with helpline numbers, emergency contact information and even providing a forum for people to reach their loved ones with news of their safety. Twitter was an excellent source of real-time information that night.

Dina Mehta, a Mumbai-based blogger and social media consultant says: “We had a list of injured people — an illegible fax — and after tweeting that we needed help transcribing it, we were flooded with offers to help from all over the world.”

It was reaffirmation. Of hope. Of humanity.

The voices that emerged that night were real.

Of fear:

“Sirens outside my window. Can hear blasts and gun shots. Please make it a safe night.”

Of mind-numbing truths:

“Bomb blasts in Bombay as we speak.
Phones jammed. Can’t reach my family.
I’ve gone through this before.
Not panicking.”

Of hope:

“We didn’t feel alone anymore or scared. Fellow tweeters worldwide were experiencing and sharing in our pain and our anger during the prolonged siege.”

Of strength:

“And the firing still goes on outside, in batches of 4-5 rounds. As I am writing this, there are sirens of vehicles, police vehicles echoing in my ear… Only unity can fight this.”

Thousands of miles away, I held on to each voice of hope, tenaciously, for three gruelling days, praying for the safety of Mumbai.

I had never felt closer to my city.

Thank you to each one of you who tweeted, posted pictures and blogged amidst the terror, confusion and pain.

Social media, networking and citizen journalism were terms I use often as a social media advocate. But on the night of November 26, 2008, the social web had turned into something far more important for me:

A lifeline.