Turmoil

Fever pitch, feverish; these words come to mind, when the present continuous verb "chanting" is spoken. Should it be this way?
The prayer meeting was relieving. It was almost like a way of unloading, although I felt slightly bad for showing up late. But I know I had good intentions. When it was time to observe a minute of silence, it was hard to stop thinking of scary images. The chanting lead by the priest at our ashram was steady but loud, firm but loving- and not at all like the chanting I just described.
Life must go on, no? Absolutely. This is what I admire about the Mumbaikers. They resumed normal train services just hours later after the blasts. The next rush hour, which was today- one day after the bomb blasts, not even 24 hours, commuters were back to routine. Truly admirable. Two points to this- is that rather cold then, sort of like ignoring this tragic event? Come to think about it, no. They are being brave, they are striving for the basics. They are pushing forward.
Another point about this quick change of pace- is it because that the citizens of India are so used to experiencing bomb blasts, that they had no choice but to get used to it?
I should say no more, because this is truly, utterly sad.
How do you get used to people dying? People who live in such close proximity to you? Perhaps not a friend, not even an acquaintance, but the mail-carrier, or the person behind the counter at the convenience store, or the security guard at your apartment.
How do you accustom yourselfs to watch innocence being raped?
Just to think about how this might be chills me. In every way.

But life goes on.