There are many adjectives that describe India: hot, vibrant, humid, busy, diverse, colorful, loud and authentic. My husband, my brother and my sister-in-law, and I arrived in Mumbai in May of 2010 for a wedding that was to take place in a resort in Goa.
On the ride from the airport, I looked out of our taxi’s window, surprised that cows were walking through the streets of the main city. Our senses were immediately overloaded by the colors and noises; we were in a completely different universe.
More than 5,000 Jews—a quarter of the country’s Jewish population—live in Mumbai, a city of 20 million. Despite the Jewish community being relatively tiny, it maintains its own infrastructure of synagogues.
We first stopped at Knesset Eliyahu Synagogue in the center of the city. Constructed in 1884, it is recognized for its bright blue and white exterior and stained-glass windows. Afterwards, we took a cab to a famous Magen David Baghdadi Synagogue, built by David Sassoon in 1861. We were among some of the first visitors who saw it after its complete renovation, including a fresh coat of its original sky-blue color.
We also visited the largest synagogue in the city, Magen Hasidim, which translates to “Shield of the pious.” It looked grand with its women’s gallery on the first-floor balcony. We took pictures inside, its large windows allowing the natural light to illuminate the interior of the building.
It was remarkable to step into these grand buildings from the crowded streets of Mumbai. I rejoiced that here, Jews found refuge from the busyness of commerce and created a cocoon of connection with G‑d and our people.
My heart was heavy, though, as I emotionally prepared myself to visit the place where Rabbi Gavriel Noach and Rivky Holtzberg—beloved directors of Chabad of Mumbai—had been brutally murdered less than two years prior.
The couple arrived in Mumbai in 2003 as emissaries of the Rebbe to serve the local Jewish community and assist the numerous tourists, especially young Israelis. Five years later, on Nov. 11, 2008, the Chabad House was invaded, and everyone inside was taken hostage.
I remember the shock, pain and fury I felt when I learned that this incredible, selfless couple had been brutally murdered in their home by terrorists. Miraculously, their 2-year-old son, Moshe, survived, carried to safety by Sandra, his Indian nanny.
In one of the most densely populated cities in the world, the Holtzbergs built a place of unconditional love and acceptance for Jews from all walks of life.
We stood outside Nariman House, where Gabi and Rivky once lived and worked, spending their days organizing endless events, classes and meals.
We took a taxi to the apartment building then serving as the interim Chabad House. After the attack, Chabad representatives stepped up en masse, taking turns serving the Mumbai community. (I was thrilled to learn that in 2012, a remarkable Chabad couple—Rabbi Yisroel and Chaya Kozlovsky—became the new permanent emissaries Mumbai, and after the reconstruction, moved the Chabad center back into Nariman House.)
We arrived and saw sandbags outside the building. Were they there to protect Chabad visitors in case of emergency? We weren’t sure. We rang the bell and found the correct apartment inside the building. We were greeted by a young Chabad rabbi who welcomed us with a smile and offered us a cold drink.
I was overwhelmed with emotion. The rabbi looked at me and immediately understood my sadness. He smiled empathetically as he walked us through the main room. We stood in silence for a few minutes, acknowledging what had happened here. The rabbi brought out a few Jewish books with bullet marks through their pages from the massacre. I held one book in my hands, connecting to this incredible couple who had dedicated their lives to the Jewish people. I also held a “Chabad of Mumbai” business card. “Your home away from home,” it read in both English and Hebrew.
I looked around the room and noticed a huge picture of the Rebbe on the wall, his kind eyes piercing my soul as I gazed at the portrait for what seemed like a long time. When I turned around, I was surprised to see my husband and brother putting on tefillin with this dedicated young rabbi patiently guiding them through each step of the process.
Something shifted inside me and I began to feel hope.
Gabi and Rivky’s work wasn’t in vain; their legacy not forgotten. The space held their light, and their life mission of Jewish continuity will never be extinguished. The terrorists took their lives, but they couldn’t extinguish their work. It continues on beyond our physical lives, illuminating the world with Torah truth, love and unconditional kindness.
When the Jewish people traveled through the desert after the Exodus, a cloud would hover over the Tabernacle, indicating when it was time to journey and when it was time to set up camp. Sometimes, the cloud would stay one night, sometimes two days, a month, or a year. “By G‑d’s command they would encamp, and by G‑d’s command they journeyed.”1
At every stop along their journey, regardless of its length, the Children of Israel set up the Tabernacle and made their offerings. They realized that they had been brought to this specific location for a Divine purpose, and so there was work to be done in each place.
Gabi and Rivky’s lives were cut short. Yet as I stood in their space, under their “cloud,” I realized that they used their limited time in this world in the most remarkable and holy way.
They built a warm and welcoming Chabad House in exotic and vibrant Mumbai, a much-needed “home away from home” for those who passed through it. They planted seeds that will continue to transform and influence the lives of countless people around the world. Because of how they used their time of “encampment” in Mumbai, the world was forever changed for the better.
May the memory of Rabbi Gavriel Noach and Rivka Holtzberg be a blessing to the entire Jewish nation. And may we all together usher in the light of the Redemption, soon in our days.
FOOTNOTES
1.Numbers 9:20-23.