That day started much like any other day. Yes, on the morning
of 11th of September, 2001, we had the
least idea of the things to happen later in the day. That morning- most of the
previous day also for that matter- I was remembering my son in New York a lot.
Of course, having both the children in the States, I go on thinking about them
almost everyday, but more so on some particular days. We refer to them as days
of ‘children blues.’ So I thought it was one of those days. The preceding
weekend, Manjula, my ever dutiful daughter obliged us with the customary weekly
phone call. But we did not receive the same from either Srinivas, my son or
Ramya, his wife. They did not call on Monday morning also as my late latif son
often does. But when there was no e- mail or phone call next day also from
them, some sort of unexplained anxiety has driven us to call them on Tuesday
morning. Of course, they are fine and could not call because they were unable
to get the line. We chose to believe them and sighed in relief.
It all happened later.
In the evening, my husband went to Pune and at around 6:30
PM, as per my habit, I was watching some weepy daily soap on the TV when my
niece rang up from New Mumbai. Very hesitatingly she broke the news of the New
York attacks. She knows that Srinivas’ office is in the World Financial Center,
the building next to the World Trade Center. I immediately switched channels
and could just catch the second hit as it happened.
My heart sank and I was shell shocked. I frantically tried to
call either Manjula or her husband Ravi or Srinivas or Ramya- anyone. But the
lines were jammed and the calls did not come through. Manjula and Ravi live in
N. Carolina away from the action but at that moment the whole of America seemed
to me to be the center scene of terrorist attacks.
I was more worried about Srinivas and wife who live and work
in New York. He is a frequent flier to
Boston, Chicago, Washington etc. I raked my brain to recollect whether he
mentioned anything about going on a tour anywhere. It did not seem so. But
still I was not sure as I thought he need not tell us about each of his trips,
does he? And that thought added to the panic and confusion.
Then suddenly I remembered my nephew in Hyderabad. He, as per
his job, spends most of his time on line and
on the net. With the hope that he may be able to gather some information
on line from his numerous contacts all over the States, I rang him up. But lo-
he said the whole of Andhra Pradesh was having a power failure due to the
breakdown of some grid somewhere and so he was off line.
Disappointed, I again went back to my watching the TV- and-
dialing the phone- routine. Meanwhile more and more detailed visuals of the
mayhem in US were pouring out of the TV screen. There were some more incidents
also. I did not know what to do. Around 8 PM or so, Ramya’s mother called from
Dubai giving the sweet news that all our people are safe in the States. With a
sigh of relief I asked her the details. No, she could not speak to them personally.
But through her niece in Boston she gathered the information. Much as I wanted
to believe and convince myself, I did not know whether to relax or not. Anyway
I did not give up my trials. After 15-20 minutes, my husband called on reaching
his destination, blissfully unaware of the panic and chaos in the States and
the aftershocks felt here. I told him about the call from Dubai and he also did
not sound fully reassured.
Around 9O’ clock, suddenly I remembered the instrument called
e-mail. Even if I could not get the telephone lines, I can always try and send
an e-mail, I thought. It did not occur to me that the reverse also can happen.
After I sent frantic mails to my children at all their ids known to me- (there
were more than a couple of them for each) I learnt that there are new messages
in my inbox. I opened and lo- there are messages from Manjula and Ramya – both
were brief one liners informing their safety. I was overwhelmed with joy! My
dutiful children, when they could not get the telephone lines, anticipated our
anxiety and sent the e-mail immediately after the incident. It was I who saw
them late.
After the initial excitement subsided, I read the mails again
and realised that both of them are still in their workplaces and Srinivas is in
his friend’s house near his office. Again doubts started raising. Would they be
able to reach homes safely? I think it is an instinctive reaction on our part
to associate home with safety. Isn’t it?
Anyway as there is some news, I relaxed a little. On the TV
screen on every channel, I could see the New Yorkers running on the streets to
get away from the fire and smoke. I was watching closely whether any face
resembled that of either Srinivas or Ramya. At around 10PM I checked the mail
again and this time there was one from Srinivas stating that he reached home safely.
As he was nearest to the scene, it was a great news indeed. My husband, who was
calling every half an hour or so to check for any news, was also relieved when
told about the safety e-mails.
That day, till midnight, I was watching the horrible scenes being
unfolded on the TV and was receiving phone calls from concerned well- wishers.
I was also sharing the joy of some other friends who were, like me, lucky to hear from their
NRI offsprings or close relatives.
On the 12th, my day started at 5:30 in the morning with the
ringing of the telephone. No, it was not the kids but one more well wisher.
Eventhough I was reassured of the safety of our children, I yearned to hear
their voices. Also, I was, like so many others, apprehensive of more strikes to
follow, the memories of the serial bomb blasts of Mumbai being still fresh in
my mind. But thankfully there were no such reports.
The TV reports were disturbing, to say the least. So many
lives were wiped away in a matter of minutes in such a ghastly manner. I
shuddered at the thought that it could be my own children or children of known
people. It is really frightening to realise that such a large number of
precious lives were reduced to nothing in the hands of may be a handful or more
frenzied persons. The aeroplanes which were hitherto considered to be a means
of transport and comfortable travel have been used – or misused rather, as
deadly missiles of mass destruction by perverse suicidal fanatics. The
possibility never crossed the minds of civilised and sane persons like us, I
bet.
On Wednesday, at around 9 AM the phone rang and the sweet
voice of Srinivas was heard from the other side. It never sounded sweeter to me
before. Slowly he described how he was in his office in World Financial Center,
the next building across the street from the World Trade Center, when he heard
the deafening sound and saw the smoke. He and his colleagues immediately ran
down the nine flights of stairs and came down. Within minutes the second plane
hit the south tower right before their eyes. Then they started to get away from
it all and after a brief stay in a friend’s house nearby, he started home which is 10-12 miles away. He walked all
the way home which took slightly more than one hour.
My son was averse to walking. He always grumbles to walk even
a few yards. He grudges even plane travel as it involves a lot of walking
inside the airports.! My eyes moistened and out of pure maternal instinct and
affection I blurted “How could you? Didn’t your feet and legs hurt?” He was
rendered speechless for a moment. My query must have sounded silly to the poor
fellow in that situation. Anyway as is expected of any anxious and dutiful
mother, I advised him to be cautious and careful though I could not quite say
in which way. My daughter, though away from the scene, could get the line only by Wednesday evening.
Some 2-3 days after the devastation, I went to the terrace of
our building for an after-dinner stroll. The horizon was lined with the
numerous skyscrapers of amchi Mumbai. Suddenly a thought crossed my mind.
Suppose, if some horrible thing happens tomorrow and if any or all of those
familiar landmarks yonder collapse and disappear….? I could not even imagine
how it will feel like – going to the terrace and finding either smoke or vacuum
in the place of those familiar tall buildings there. Will it be like looking
into the mirror and not seeing our own face? The thought itself was
frightening. Suddenly, I don’t know why, but my eyes welled up and
involuntarily I started crying. Yes, I cried my heart out. I was not sure
whether it was due to sorrow or pain or fright or disgust or shame or guilt or
a bit of all.
Or on second thoughts, was it partly out of relief and joy
perhaps?
Because, even at the risk of sounding selfish and inhuman, I
must admit that I felt grateful and glad for my children’s safety. But when I
think about thousands of mothers who were not so fortunate as I and thousands
of innocent children who were not so lucky as mine, I shudder and feel sort of
ashamed of belonging to human race whose members do not think twice or hesitate
to wipe away a large number of their own innocent brethren. It is really a
shameful blackmark on the entire mankind as well as in the human history
itself. It really leaves a disgusting foul taste in the mouth.
But no… Then I remember, -about so many concerned friends and
acquaintances who called us either personally or by phone to convey their
anxiety; -about some real heroes out there who tried and saved total strangers
at the risk of their own lives; -about the kind human beings who tried to
sympathise and share the grief of the affected fellow human beings; -about the
firefighters and rescue workers- many of whom even lost their lives and the
rest struggling against exhaustion and weariness for the sake of fellow people
entirely unknown to them. Then I feel proud of being a human being. I feel
proud of all these people and salute them.
