For Mumbai's Children, No Illusion of Safety

"Before I sleep, I make sure nothing is happening," said Abbas, whose father's friend died in the attacks. "Sometimes I see the dead bodies in my mind."

In central Mumbai, parents at the Billabong school spent a recent morning milling around the security booth in front of the gated complex. With the gate left unlocked for the flood of children and visitors streaming in, many parents said they were anxious about the school's security.

"At 6 years old, my son knows what a terrorist is," said Vanita Advani, 37, clutching his hand. On Wednesday afternoon, TV channels began reporting that about 20 pounds of explosives were found at the railway station, used by many of the students who commute to the school.

"When will it end? We want the police to guard our schools," she said. The school is in a mixed neighborhood of Muslims and Hindus, and many parents say they are worried that tensions between India and Pakistan could ignite communal hostilities in Mumbai, where Muslims make up almost 14 percent of the population.

The next morning, Advani was among a throng of parents in the school's lobby. They asked the school's leadership to hold an impromptu briefing about security. "We can't put bars on the windows," said J.R. Jung, a trustee of the school. "We can't have armed guards roaming the halls. But we can talk about ways to do more."

"Now insecure children grow up with suspicion and caution, and they just don't want to relive the trauma they experienced as a result of this attack. One of my patients, a young boy, was shot at, and, because of the three bullets in his leg, he is maimed for life," said Pradnya Aklekar, 29, a child psychiatrist working with many of the children who were victims of or who witnessed the attacks. "Young children can't understand why strangers would go on a killing spree. Terrorism has become a major mental problem, especially for young minds," she said.

With schools closed during the attacks, many of the city's children were kept indoors. Once the siege ended, the restless children spilled out into the streets to play. Tiny boys with rail-thin arms climbed a towering billboard and did push-ups on the rusty beams at a major traffic circle. They played cricket on the same narrow lanes not far from where gunmen killed shopkeepers during the attacks. Girls went to the market with their mothers, buying bangles and fresh flowers.

Families spent Saturday feeding pigeons near the charred Taj Mahal Palace & Tower hotel and the adjacent Gateway of India. Some people said they were happy that Mumbai's many pigeons were back, adding that the birds were scared away during the attacks.

At a local bakery and cafe, Sharmila Pinnck and her 3-year-old daughter huddled over a "Finding Nemo" storybook.

"I want my baby to have a childhood," said Pinnck, who lost two friends during the two-day siege at the Oberoi Trident hotel. Her friends went for dessert at one of the hotel's posh cafes and never returned. "Their two children are orphans. For them, their childhood is gone," she said as her daughter sat close by, listening.

Special correspondent Ria Sen in Mumbai contributed to this report .