Night to remember: Parizaad Khan.
The evening started rather innocuously at The Taj Mahal Palace and Tower’s Crystal Room, with a glass of musk melon juice. It was 9.30pm on 26 November and I was at Mumbai’s oldest five-star for a friend’s wedding reception. A friend and I had driven the car into the porch (a practice the management had discontinued for a while for security reasons) and passed through the doors with minimal security interference. We had just been asked to walk through a metal detector and my friend commented on how inadequate the security seemed.
After we got to the Crystal Room in the Taj’s old wing, we met friends, picked up our first drink and nibbled on a few appetizers.
We hadn’t been there 15 minutes when we heard sounds that we dismissed as construction work or fire crackers. When the boom boom went on and got nearer, it was apparent that they were neither. The staff had secured the doors of the room by now. We were standing in the middle of the room planning our next move, when a glass window that looked out into the main corridor shattered, and shots rang through the room. Instinctively we ducked and crouching, made our way to the service door, which led to an alcove. We crouched there for a minute, and then were ushered by staff through corridors, kitchens and other areas, till we reached the wood-panelled Chambers, an elite, by-membership-only club, whose patrons are the country’s top industrialists. We passed by executive grand chef Hemant Oberoi, who was surrounded by chefs and staff in white, but was gracious enough to smile at us.
Once at the Chambers, we met other members of the wedding party, foreign guests living at the hotel, as well as patrons of the hotel’s restaurants such as Wasabi, Golden Dragon and Masala Craft. The staff kept ushering in new refugees, and soon the place was full—there were probably 300 people now. There was a large room leading to a terrace and a smaller room next to that. The Chambers also consist of a few corridors and waiting spaces, besides ladies and gents restrooms. The doors were locked and the staircase and elevator secured, we were told. By then we could not hear any more gunfire, and felt safer. People were bewildered and phone calls coming in confirmed that many places in the city had been similarly targeted.
Click here to watch video
That’s when the Taj’s staff kicked in. Crates of Himalayan water bottles started to come in, followed by tins of potato chips. These were soon followed by chutney and cheese sandwiches and trays of canapés. I spotted some paté and smoked salmon, but was too churned up to eat anything. Tray after tray of freshly made sandwiches kept coming through, followed by cans of aerated drinks. Soon, we had towels and crisp white bedsheets to wrap around us as blankets. Extra chairs were brought in.