Well written Personal account of Bob Lenzner, national editor of Forbes
Mine is a story so improbable that if it were made into a movie, no one
would believe it. It begins innocuously enough with a dinner reservation
with another couple (Shiv and Reshma) at a leading restaurant in a world
class hotel, and ends 12 hours later in a brazen commando assault by the
Indian army that allowed us to be freed. My point in relaying this story
is not to tell a sensational true story, but express my eternal
gratitude and to pay tribute to the staff of The Taj Mahal Hotel, who
literally sacrificed their lives in disproportionate numbers so that we
could ultimately survive. They, along with the bravery of the Indian
army, are the true heroes and are deserving of due respect.
Let me also preface this by saying that my wife and I were married in
the Taj at the Crystal Ballroom, her parents were married there and the
couple we were with were married there as well. My wife and Reshma, both
Bombay girls, grew up hanging out at the Taj and the Oberoi. Many of my
wife’s fondest memories are at this place where she spent so many happy
hours and often partied the night away at her favorite nightclub the
legendary 1900’s.
My wife Anjali and I arrived at the Taj with Shiv & Reshma at around
9:30 for dinner at The Golden Dragon, one of the better Chinese
Restaurants in Mumbai. We were running a little early for dinner, (our
friends had just welcomed their 1 month old into the world). We walked
through the lobby and made a left to go to the restaurant. Our wives
decided that they would go to a book shop on the other side of the lobby
and meet us at the restaurant.
Fortunately our table wasn’t ready. Though we were a little early and
had reservations, the staff told us we would have to wait 10 minutes for
another table to be freed. Hearing this we then walked next door to the
Harbor Bar for a drink. A minute later our wives crossed back across the
lobby and joined us at the bar. We had barely sat down and begun to
enjoy our beers, when the host of The Golden Dragon came to our table at
the Harbour Bar and told us our table was ready. For reasons unknown, we
decided to stay and finish our drinks.
Literally 30 seconds later we heard what sounded like a heavy tray
smashing to the ground. This was followed by 20 to 30 more similar
sounds and absolute silence. We knew something was terribly off. Our
initial reaction was to crouch behind a table in the bar feet away from
what we now knew were gunshots. At this time terrorists had stormed the
lobby and were firing indiscriminately. The Harbor Bar is situated right
next to the lobby, and while they couldn’t see us the terrorists were
within 30 feet of us.
My friend, Shiv, and I knew we had to act fast. We took a chair and
tried repeatedly to break the glass window in front of us, but it
wouldn’t budge. We then looked and saw a stairway that was inside the
bar, but across open space that could be seen from the hotel lobby.
Fearlessly, the Hostess of the Harbour Bar stood at her post as all this
was going on and ushered for us to go up the stairs and escape this
initial wave. She literally was looking straight out into the hallway
and lobby and motioned to us that it was safe to make a run for the
stairwell. She also mentioned that there was a dead body right outside
in the corridor. We believe this courageous woman was later murdered.
We later learned that within minutes of our decision to climb up the
stairwell the terrorists came into the Harbour Bar, shot everyone who
was there dead, as well as also executing everyone who was still at the
Golden Dragon next door. It has also come to light that the staff of the
Golden Dragon, who were equally valiant, attempted to usher their
patrons into a basement wine cellar which they thought would be
protected. They locked the doors in an attempt to keep the terrorists
out. The terrorists unfortunately managed to break through the doors and
lobbed in grenades that wound up killing everyone in the basement.
Back to the previous - The stairwell connected the Harbour Bar on the
bottom to a restaurant called Wasabi on the second floor. After fleeing
up the stairwell and having the “fortune” of having the terrorist choose
to hunt down people in the Golden Dragon first, we ran into the annals
of the kitchen on the 2^nd Floor. Our friend Shiv was familiar with
these back ways as he had used them at times when his wife was pregnant
and could not walk up the stairs. There we took refuge in a small
office. The chef and staff were very accommodating; they served the four
of us food and drink, and believe it or not were apologizing for the
inconvenience we were suffering.
At this point we were hoping against hope that this was an isolated
incident and police/military would arrive soon. In the office was a TV,
and we and the staff were able to watch the reporting by local media. We
were also able to text and e-mail with others to try to get a sense of
what was happening. It became apparent that this was a full fledged
terrorist assault on Mumbai. We were hopeful that our obscure location
would buy us enough time to make it out safely. For about an hour or so
we sat as quietly as possible in the office trying to make sense of the
situation unfolding around us.
At that point 10 different locations in Mumbai were under assault,
including the police station. There were reports that terrorists had
even stolen a police car and were impersonating police - killing people
randomly on the street. We thought that while not safe, we were in the
safest place possible at that moment. There were also no points of exit
from our location and the terrorists seemed to have blocked off many of
the entry/exit points so we decided to stay put and hope for the best.
Fortunately in the office was a massive wooden conference table. We had
positioned the table 3 feet from the door so that if anything felt amiss
we could move it quickly to barricade the door. Suddenly at around
11/11:30 the kitchen went silent, we knew something was wrong. We took
the table and slammed it against the door, then turned off all the
lights and hid where we thought we would be the most protected from
gunshots. There were 5 of us in the room, all of the kitchen staff
remained in the kitchen, not one staff member had run, not one.
Suddenly “Slam”, “Slam” the door was trying to be broken down, but the
door and our table wouldn’t give. Again, “Slam” “Slam”. Then again,
“Slam” “Slam”. We then heard the terrorists asked the chef in Hindi if
anyone was inside the office and he responded very calmly “no one is in
there it’s empty”. This is the second time the staff saved our lives.
The chef was killed.
After about 20 minutes passed we heard a slight knock on the door, and a
staff member whom, we had been with earlier identified himself in
English. Many of the staff then stood in a line and provided safe escort
down a corridor to an area called “The Chambers”. The Chambers is an
exclusive members only area of the hotel. We were told that The Chambers
was the safest place we could be, had been secured off that there as the
only two entrances were now guarded by the army.
The mood in The Chambers was relatively calm. There were perhaps 200-300
people in the 6 rooms that comprised The Chambers. Inside, staff was
serving sandwiches, alcohol and drinks. People were nervous, but
cautiously optimistic. We were told that this was one of the safest
places to be in all of South Mumbai. The streets were still unsecure,
there had been firing at CST- a major railway station, The Oberoi Hotel
and even the Cama Hospital for women and children. The army was at the
time was being mobilized more fully.
Then at around 1/1:30 the mood began to get more tense. Some member of
parliament had phoned into a live newscast and let the world know that
200+ people were “secure and safe in The Chambers together”. What’s
better, he made sure to let it out that there were several CEOs,
foreigners, and Members of Parliament in the group. The news station of
course made sure to broadcast this fact as well.
Adding to the tension and chaos was the fact that via SMS and cell
phones we knew that in the heritage wing of the Taj the dome was on fire
and potentially moving downwards.
The staff was becoming increasingly concerned for our safety. At around
2am they decided to attempt an evacuation. We all lined up to head down
a dark fire escape exit. Things were going smoothly for about 5 minutes,
then grenade blasts and automatic weapon fire pierced the air. A mad
stampede ensued to get out of the stairwell and take cover back inside
The Chambers.
Having barely survived two chances with death already, my wife and I had
discussed and decided that in the event The Chambers got broken into and
became a real hostage situation we would hide in different rooms. Whilst
wanting to be together if this was to be our end, our primary
obligations lay with giving our children the best possible chance of
having one parent alive. Given that I am American and my wife Indian,
and with news reports stating that the terrorists were targeting US/UK
nationals, I believed I was further endangering her life by being with
her if we were to get into a hostage situation.
Thus, when we ran back to The Chambers amidst gun volley I fled for a
toilet stall and my wife stayed with our friends who fled to a large
room across from the toilet stalls. For the next 7 hours I lay in the
fetal position on the floor of the stall while my wife huddled silently
with close to 100 others, including our friends. We were able to stay in
contact via email on our Blackberries. I had one and Anjali was with
another friend, Vishal, who was holed up with her who had one as well
and he kept in contact with me. We were all dead silent and had all
silenced our phones.
Outside The Chambers the slaughter continued. Most of the people in the
stairwell got shot and killed and many staff valiantly stayed outside
the doors in another attempt to protect the guests. I believe many of
the staff that stayed outside the door to lock it perished. At this
point there were multiple grenades and volleys of gunfire. It sounded as
though the terrorists were engaged in a firefight after having murdered
the first evacuees and staff.
The layout of The Chambers has six rooms along two corridors which forms
an “L” shape. The corridor that runs east/west had five rooms attached
to it and was accessible by the obscure door connected to the escape
path referenced earlier. The north/south corridor had one big room on
one side and the men’s restroom on the other. I fled to the toilets,
Anjali and our friends to the large room connected to the north/south
corridor.
Back in The Chambers, the staff had again acted quickly and turned off
all the lights as soon as we ran back in. The place was pitch black.
Unfortunately, the terrorists once again managed to break into The
Chambers via the exit where we were previously trying to evacuate. The
next 10 minutes, around 2:30, were extremely frightening. Rather than
hearing the volley of fire/counter fire, we could just hear single
shots. We would later learn that the terrorists went room by room on the
east/west corridor and systematically executed everyone they could:
women, elderly, Muslims, Hindus, foreigners, anyone. How they did not
manage to enter the other corridor is a miracle – it was the commandos
at the other side that kept firing back and saved our lives.
The Indian commandos were on the Southern end of the corridor,
Terrorists on the North (remember the east/west corridor connected to
the north/south, so after they had butchered all the rooms in the
east/west corridor, all they had to do was make a turn around the corner
to come after our two rooms). The next 5 hours was comprised of an
intense grenade/gun battle between the Indian commandos and the
terrorists that was fought in pitch black darkness in which each side
was trying to outflank the other. Our lives hung in the balance. Anjali
could literally see commandos advancing and retreating feet from her,
gunshots and grenade blasts were within feet from her and the others in
the big room.
We heard a grenade explosion that seriously injured one commando, but
amazingly for the hours that hundreds upon hundreds of rounds were
expended no one was seriously injured in this battle.
During this time I was huddled in the fetal position on the floor of one
of two toilet stalls in the bathroom. I had picked the toilet stall as
the preferred hiding location because if we were in an overt hostage
situation the floor to ceiling door could conceal my identity. I was
joined in the stall by Joe, a Nigerian national with a US Greencard
whose wife had recently divorced him. He had moved to Lagos and was in
Mumbai on business. For the next seven hours he sat on the pot (full
seat down), me on the floor, and we tried to make sense of the situation.
I had, through a friend, gotten in touch with the FBI via Blackberry,
where several agents were helpful in giving me a status update
throughout the night. I cannot even begin to explain the level of
adrenaline running through my system at this point. It was this hyper
aware state where every sound, every smell, every piece of information
was ultra acute, analyzed, and processed so we could make the best
decision to try to maximize the odds of survival.
Was the fire above us life threatening? What floor was it on? Were the
commandos near us, or were they terrorists? Why is it so quiet? Did the
commandos survive? If the terrorists come into the bathroom and to the
door, when they fire in, how can I make my body as small as possible? If
Joe gets killed before me in this situation, how can I throw his body on
mine to barricade the door? If the Indian commandos liberate the rest in
the other room, how will they know where I am? Do the terrorists have
suicide vests? Will the roof stand? How can I make sure the FBI knows
where Anjali and I are? When is it safe to stand up and attempt to urinate?
At one point we received an incorrect text saying that the terrorists
were killed, Joe went out to check on the situation- he lives in Lagos
and is much more fearless than me. He saw 5 commandos in the hallway,
then another volley of fire broke out and he dove for cover, eventually
retreating back to the bathroom stall with me. 10 minutes later we heard
a pin drop and what sounded like an object tossed. We said to each other
“grenade” and braced for impact. Fortunately we were wrong; no grenade
had been tossed.
Meanwhile Anjali was on the other side of the corridor in the large room
with our friends and about 100 others. She and others were in what
basically was one continuous mass of people clinging to each other lying
on the floor. People barely moved for 7 hours, the last 3 hours they
felt it was too unsafe to even text. From her vantage point Anjali could
clearly see the commandos advancing/retreating, advancing retreating.
Whilst I was tucked behind a couple walls of marble and granite in a
bathroom and toilet stall, she was feet from bullets flying back and
forth. She was also in the middle of the corridor on one side and the
terrace on the other. Gunfire and grenades going off on both ends at
some points. Shiv and Reshma were up against the glass terrace doors
that was all between us and the terrorists. Ironically, the group right
next to Anjali were devout Bori Muslims whom would have been slaughtered
just like everyone else. Everyone was in deep prayer and most, Anjali
included, had accepted that their lives were likely over.
After several attacks and counter attacks, dawn broke and the commandos
were able to successfully secure our corridor. In Anjali’s words “a
young gorgeous looking commando” came in just like in a movie and told
Anjali and the others in the room to put their hands up. He asked
whether anyone had a weapon and was told that no one did and this was a
peaceful crowd. He asked them to follow single file to safety. When one
woman asked whether it was safe to leave, the commando replied: “Don’t
worry, you have nothing to fear, the first bullets have to go through me”.
The scene was one literally out of a movie, like Die Hard. The corridor
was laced with broken glass, bullet casings, and debris. Every table was
turned over or destroyed. The ceilings and walls were littered with
hundreds of bullet holes, blood stains were clear, though fortunately
there were no dead bodies to be seen.
A few minutes after Anjali had left, I peeked out of my toilet stall
with Joe to see multiple commandos and smiled widely. I had lost my
right shoe while sprinting to the toilet so I grabbed a sheet from the
floor wrapped it around my foot and proceeded to walk over the glass and
debris to the hotel lobby.
On my way out next to me was an older Hindu man who had suffered an
abdominal wound. The staff had placed him on a sheet and was holding the
sheet to carry him out to safety. He said nothing, though I’m sure he
was in agony. However, he was still, his hands were clenched tight in
prayer, eyes focused above, and his expression was peaceful. It was as
if he had accepted that there was a higher power that would determine
his fate. I will never forget the look on his face. For myself, I was
scared beyond belief of death. I had no peace, everything I attempted
was to try and increase my likelihood of survival. Towards the end when
it sounded like perhaps the Indian commandos had been flushed and we
were in trouble, my heart was pounding so hard it felt like it could
explode. As an aside, even though I hadn’t slept a wink that night, I
couldn’t go to sleep until 1am that night- the adrenaline was just that
strong.
Anjali and I were reunited in the entrance to the Taj on the ground
floor. From there we embraced for the first time in 7 hours. At that
point I didn’t know whether she was dead or injured because we hadn’t
been able to text for the last 3 hours. By a sheer miracle she was
untouched, Vishal was untouched and Shiv and Reshma were untouched. We
also knew Amrita and Priya Jhaveri who were in there with us who came
out along with us. Amrita’s husband Chris a foreigner as well.
I wanted to take a picture of us on my blackberry – Anjali did not want
me to as she wanted us to get out of there before doing anything. She
was right - our ordeal wasn’t completely over. A large bus pulled up in
front of the Taj and, just about as it was fully loaded gunfire erupted
again. The terrorists were still alive and firing automatic weapons at
the bus. Anjali was the last to get on the bus as I pushed her up and
Vishal pulled her inside – I crouched down separated from her once
again. We were all told upon coming out of the hotel that we would be
taken to a police station to identify ourselves. However, 30 metres away
they were let off the bus as gunfire continued – they ran to the Regal
Cinema and into Vishal’s waiting car and away to safety. I ducked under
some concrete barriers for cover as the gunfire continued. (It later
turned out that pictures of this moment were the ones that made the
international news.) Shortly thereafter an ambulance came and drove a
few others and me away to safety. An hour later Anjali and I were again
reunited at her parents home. Our thanksgiving had just gained a lot
more meaning.
Some may say our survival was due to random luck, others due to divine
intervention. Being 72 hours removed from these events, I can assure you
of only one thing: Far fewer of us would have survived if it weren’t for
the extreme selflessness shown by the Taj hotel staff, who organized us,
catered to us, then in the end literally died for us. That is not to
take away from the extreme bravery and courage of the Indian commandos,
who in pitch-black darkness and in unfamiliar, close-quarter terrain
valiantly held the terrorists at bay. It is also amazing that amongst
our entire group not one person screamed or panicked through the entire
ordeal and there was an eerie but quiet calm that pervaded – this is one
more thing that got us all out alive. Even people in the adjacent rooms
who were being executed kept silent.
This is to remark on the truism that only when faced with the worst of
humanity can one witness the best. It is much easier to destroy than to
build, yet somehow humanity has managed to build far more than it has
ever destroyed. Likewise in a period of crisis it is much easier to find
faults and failings, rather than celebrate heroes. It is now time to
celebrate our heroes.