I was a young teen the first time I met Gabi. I had come to Crown Heights for a weekend and was looking for something to do on Friday afternoon. Passing 770, I was approached by a boy a few years older than me who spoke English with an Israeli accent. He asked if I'd like to come along with him on his weekly "mivtzoim route," to visit Jews in Manhattan stores and offices, and help them put on tefillin. I went along, and soon we figured out that we shared cousins too.
Several years later, when I visited the Holtzbergs in Mumbai, Gabi also remembered that afternoon, but neither of us could recall what we had discussed. I guess it was more of a common goal that bound us than a detailed discussion.
For me it was a hit and run visit, but they were here for good. Mumbai is no Jerusalem and the Colaba area is no Fifth Avenue, but Gabi and Rivky had chosen to spend their lives in this place to bring the Rebbe's passionate love for every Jew to anyone who may find themselves in this crowded city that was so distant from their native countries, where Jewish life was all but extinct.
From the businessmen from Antwerp to the traveling Israeli, Nariman House was the center of life where everyone prayed in the mornings, and converged in the evenings to meet new friends, eat a freshly cooked Kosher meal, learn about the Parshah, and just hang out with enjoyable company.
During that week, we celebrated a Bar Mitzvah for a boy who lived with his mother in Goa, whom Gabi had painstakingly taught to read the blessings at the Torah and how to lay the Tefillin. The event was hosted at the Chabad House where Rivki had converted the dining room to a decorated hall where we celebrated with all of the diamond dealers, tourists, and locals who gathered for the occasion. Everyone was family at Gabi and Rivki's Chabad House, so we were all invited. All were encouraged to share their blessings with the Bar Mitzvah boy, and so all these newfound friends took turns wishing the young boy that he should carry the blessings of this special day with him for the rest of his life. (See below for pictures of this special Bar Mitzvah celebration.)
Today my tears flow freely as I write these memories. Who would have thought that in these very rooms filled with love and light, hate and darkness would end the lives of my dear friends?
I went to the funeral in Kfar Chabad to pay my last respects to these wonderful people. But I can not bear to think that this room in my life is being sealed shut. An oasis of Redemption in the middle of a turbulent world was overwhelmed by a few evil men. I pray for a day when our questions will be answered.






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