I came here at 11:00 pm (IST) on Wednesday night of 26th November with a colleague. We were the first journalists to report live on television from the Taj Mahal hotel at the Gateway of India in Mumbai, the site of the siege. The dome of the Taj went up in smoke and flames as bombs exploded right behind us as the world watched it all live. Four nights and four days later, the Taj burned down. All that remains is an outside structure. The siege finished after an encounter, that's now being called India's 9/11. Mumbai is shaken up and India is ashamed.

Enter the corridors, and images of burnt curtains, broken glass, ripped-apart furniture terrorises you. The Harbour Bar, Mumbai's first licensed bar at the Taj was singed and all you see are charred remains; remains of chairs, a twisted fork, leftovers of people, leftovers of conversations. It all leaves you cold by the pool side- right inside the Taj's centre- a flower sags blown by explosives, hung on a vase, a golden bag lies strewn partially clung to a chair and there are bread crumbs near a broken pair of heels. These are the real pictures that hang before your eyes, for these are still partially alive, telling you a gory story.

As the first journalists to report live from the scene, none of us thought, when we first reached here outside the Taj in Mumbai, that this would go on for four long days. Our first night and we were told there are a couple of terrorists and lots of people. Then came the hope after the many blasts in the heritage wings, that sunrise would end the encounter. But morning brought mourning as some people were evacuated but many were still trapped, some even held hostage. The numbers continue to add up everyday. New mornings, more mourning. 10 terrorists had a force of 300 policemen and combat fighters turning days into nights. Just 10 terrorists.

The first big blast went behind us in the dome of the Taj but 80 such blasts were to follow. Column by column, room by room the terrorists moved behind us, inside the Taj. Each blast that went off, everyone knew the terrorists were moving, along with the hostages. Grenade attacks, people screaming, life on stretchers were becoming a usual sight. We rushed to meet people climbing down fire brigade from windows. Then there were those still trapped; black shadows of guests against the lit up windows of the magnificent Taj. I saw people on the phone, people shouting for help, people contemplating jumping out, people hiding behind curtains.

All this rescue came to a standstill in the last 15 hours of this 60 hour encounter. Now it was an all out war. Grenade blew the Taj. Our zoomed in cameras shook as the blasts occurred. I remember one live shot as I stared into the screen of the camera to get a closer look at the live image; a blast went off just then in an orange glow, windows burst and white curtains flew out for all to see. We just didn't think the image would repeat itself, many times over.

How unfortunate, but after a point, every one of the 200 reporters- foreign and Indian press- had their moment of truth- clips of reporting in the line of fire, pictures of them reporting against some gun fire or grenade attacks. This was warzone Mumbai.

For many of us, this is what we thought journalists do in Iraq, in Beirut, in Sri Lanka but who thought Mumbai would be the victim. We somewhat secured our stock exchanges, we have kept close vigil at India Gate in Delhi, our temples as well, but this attack was not on our monuments. It wasn't symbolic, it was straight in your face. This was an attack on the people. This was an attack on the spirit. This was an attack on our patience.