Plagued by Terrorism, Indians Voice Frustration

On Monday, a somber Prime Minister Manmohan Singh visited the blast sites in Ahmedabad and was seen at the bedside of the injured. "These terrorist acts are aimed at destroying our social fabric," Singh said. "We will rise to the challenge. I am confident we will be able to defeat these forces."

Cities across the country were put on high alert. The government deployed an extra 3,000 security personnel in New Delhi, and security was tightened in the southern state of Kerala after a phone call to a TV channel warned that the state would be targeted by terrorists.

India has long experienced bomb blasts in the disputed Himalayan territory of Kashmir and in the country's northeast. But attacks targeting civilians outside such long-standing conflict zones have become more common and should put increasing pressure on the government, experts said.

In August, 40 people were killed after a pair of synchronized bombs tore through a fast-food restaurant and amusement park in Hyderabad. In May, in the pink-walled city of Jaipur, a string of simultaneous blasts targeted a popular Hindu temple and marketplaces, killing 80 and injuring 200.

On Monday, the Sarojini Nagar market had tightened security as crowds thronged shops hawking baby clothes and bangles, sneakers and saris. Families lined up to buy afternoon snacks of sweets and fresh juice. Rickshaws whizzed through. Heart-shaped balloons were for sale alongside strings of marigolds. It could have been any Indian market. But the scars of the 2005 attack were everywhere.

Out of a frayed plastic bag, Ashok Randhawa, president of the Sarojini Nagar mini-market association, took out the worn photographs of those who had died during the 2005 blast: flirty newlyweds, a family on vacation at the Taj Mahal, a proud, well-dressed Delhi University student, a chubby toddler straddling his plastic four-wheel bike.

Among them was Karan Poddar, a 7-year-old boy with big ears, who loved to sing. In her living room not far from the market, his mother, Indu, recalled that her husband had taken Karan to the market that night. It was right before Diwali, the annual Indian festival of lights, and the family was in a festive mood after a long day of shopping.

"The blast was like a rocket," recalled Vinod Poddar, 42, Karan's father, who lost the lower half of his right leg in the attack.

The Poddar family said they may never stop mourning Karan. But the last few days have been particularly painful, with the carnage of the blasts in Ahmedabad and Bangalore.

"I knew exactly how those victims felt, and it's paining my head," Indu Poddar said, her eyes moistening. "At points, the coverage is just too much. I had to turn it off."

Karan's picture hangs in the center living room, draped with fresh flowers. For his family, Diwali, the biggest Hindu festival observed in north India, is now a troubled time. They hold a memorial service, softly praying with other victims from the market blast.

Visiting with the family, Randhawa, the market president, told them: "If the government can wake up, there is still time to make a difference."

As he spoke about the need for better investigations, Karan's mother kissed her son's photo, quietly stroking the picture of his face.