Lost friends in Mumbai

I was devastated to learn that two of the casualties of the Mumbai terrorist attacks were two friends. Rabbi Gavriel Holtzberg and his wife Rivka were welcoming hosts when I lived in India. Whether it were for the high holiday services or shabbat dinners, their doors were always open. On their top floor flat, relaxing after a long shabbat meal with new friends, we would have discussions about living abroad, Judaism and Indian culture. Reflecting together, looking out over Bombay harbor on a balmy night, who would ever imagine that assault teams would repel from helicopters onto the very same site where we casually sat? Who could imagine that the Holtzbergs would be taken hostage and murdered?

I can still remember the taste of fresh watermelon that we had after breaking fast on Yom Kippur. I even remember where I was sitting and what Rabbi Holtzberg had said after we had ate. Those small moments are captured forever and even though Rabbi and his wife have passed on, they are not gone. They are with me, and the way they treated me and shared with me will never be forgotten.

Terrorism has never touched me quite in this way. Although I was in NY when the September 11th attacks occurred, I did not personally know anyone murdered. This time, friends were killed, and for that, I am forever changed. One of the things that I know is true is that I can not letting terrorism control my life. I look forward to the day that I return to Mumbai, that dirty, smelly, chaotic wonderful city. I can not wait to visit VT station and get cramped into one of the packed trains. I look forward to hanging out in the air conditioned lobby of the Oberoi, and I will relish with pleasure going dancing at the night club in the Taj Mahal Hotel.