A year ago, after the three-day siege of Mumbai ended and people took to the streets with candles and banners, a group of young Muslim men, carrying a hand-written poster, walked quietly with the surging crowds.

Seeing them, people began to clap spontaneously, applauding their assertion that Islam was a religion of peace, and not terrorism.

Since then, people in Mumbai, which has witnessed some of the worst communal riots in the country in the past, have come together in their grief, crossing barriers erected by politicians in the name of religion.

Some have accused the media of not highlighting enough, the fact that the militants asked their hostages what religion and then killed non-Muslims.

Others have speculated that the few thousands of Jews left in India would leave the country because six Jews were killed in the attack on Chabad House.

But in Mumbai today, just days after the explosive report on the Babri Masjid demolition was made public, there is a sense of community and togetherness. A big difference from 1992, when riots between Hindus and Muslims that followed the demolition killed hundreds.

And so today, multi-faith prayer services are being held everywhere in the city and there are countless stories of inter-faith friendships that blossomed in the days after the attacks.

And so the nine bodies of Islamist militants killed last November still lie in a hospital morgue because Muslim clerics in the city have refused to bury them.

And so Muslim bakers in Byculla in Mumbai still bake the traditional bread for the Jewish Sabbath.
And so Muslims celebrating Eid on Nov. 28 will gather in the compound of the Jewish synagogue in Byculla for their prayers.

And so at the Chabad House memorial service, Muslim neighbours will be present.
Because when lives have been taken, religion should not matter.

The Jamestown Foundation, a U.S.-based think tank, has warned of a renewed threat to India from the Pakistan-based Lashkar-e-Taiba.

It quotes intelligence sources as saying the LeT’s marine wing may be planning a Mumbai-type incursion to target vital installations in the coastal states of Gujarat, Maharashtra and Goa.

The group is also reported to have funneled huge amounts of money from its Gulf-based networks to fund activities in India.

It is not the first time such a warning has been issued, since the attacks in November. The U.S. embassy still has a warden message on its website dated June 2, 2009, warning U.S. citizens there is a “high threat of terrorism throughout India.

India’s Home Minister P. Chidambaram wasn’t too happy with the advisory when it was issued, arguing the country was safe to travel. But if his own intelligence agencies are talking of a second 26/11, you have to ask yourself if you should not be taking these warnings seriously.

The Jamestown Foundation said the LeT was using the Gulf networks and hawala channels to route money for operations not just in India, but in Pakistan itself.

Is it a tactical shift to ride out international pressure that New Delhi has been trying to bring on Pakistan to act against a group long regarded as a ”strategic asset” ?

This week Pakistan has appealed against a court decision to free LeT founder Hafiz Mohammad Sayeed, accused by India of plotting the Mumbai attack. And simultaneously,  the United States moved against the group, launching sanctions against three senior operatives along with one from al Qaeda.

Some people are already speculating if the Lashkar is the new al Qaeda.

Imagine taking a DJ to a funeral or U.S. President George W Bush taking Oliver Stone along to Ground Zero after the 9/11 attack. Would you call it inappropriate? I think the word doesn’t even begin to describe Maharashtra Chief Minister Vilasrao Deshmukh’s actions on Sunday afternoon.

On a visit to the ravaged Taj Mahal hotel in Mumbai, he was accompanied by his son, actor Riteish Deshmukh, and filmmaker Ram Gopal Varma, both of them strolling around as if it were a normal walk in the park.

That a city already grappling with rage and grief had to see images of Varma walking around the Taj like he was location hunting for a new film, speaks volumes about the sheer apathy and callousness of the people in power.

Varma says he was never invited to the Taj, nor does he intend to make a film on the terror attacks, telling Reuters in a text message that he “just happened to be with Riteish, whom I know very well.”

TV channels are reporting as I write that Deshmukh has offered to resign, as has his deputy R R Patil. 

In my mind though, this callous attitude is not just limited to our politicians alone. We criticise them for being insensitive, but what about the thousands of people who came out to gawk at the burning Taj and click pictures of themselves in its backdrop?

“This has turned into some kind of a macabre tourist spot,” a colleague said to me.

And it wasn’t just the Taj. At Nariman House, while NSG commandos were struggling to get inside the besieged house, there were hordes of people out in the narrow street, just gawking at the grenades and gun fire.

As policemen tried to push the crowds back, telling them that a grenade might burst any moment, one teenager refused to move.

“So what if there is a bomb, it’s not going to walk over here and burst on my head is it,” he cheekily told the policeman.

That’s not all. There were people peering out of street corners, clicking pictures, hoisting their children on their shoulders so they could get a better view, and excitedly calling up friends on their cellphones saying “Guess what, I am at the Taj, and I can see it burning!”

As a nation, I understand that we are angry and outraged at the callous behaviour of our politicians but I am not sure many of us were any better.