9/11

I was sitting at my desk at work on Tuesday, September 11, 2001, when I received a phone call from my mother. That was the first I heard about the plane crashing into the World Trade Center. At that time, it was assumed that a tragic accident had occured. My mother was telling me, "One never knows what happens next!" Then we knew, because a second plane had hit the adjascent building.
 

All the radios at work were switched on. What we were hearing seemed impossible! It was like waking up from a bad dream, only to discover it had become a living nightmare. A third plane strike into the Pentagon left us all speechless and the last plane crash in Pennsylvania was almost anticlimatic. Within an hour, trusting faithful souls had been transformed to expect the worst, only to experience it. In one breath all voices were asking, "God! How could you do this!?"
 

I saw television images of the destruction only at 7 pm at night. It seemed like I was watching a movie. I was struggling with my conscience because I was finding it extremely difficult to recongnize what I was seeing as real. I could not cry. I felt absolutely nothing. "Was this how it felt to be in shock?" I wondered.
 

I lay back on my couch and closed my eyes. The TV was blaring in the background. I needed to feel something, anything. I fell asleep from sheer exhaustion, but woke up two hours later, dazed and confused. The television was on. I saw the second plane strike and the buildings crumble into a heap. I sat staring numbly at the television screen. No words reached my ears, nothing made sense. There was silence, even though the TV volume was quite high.
 

Around mid-night I turned off the television and fell asleep. I woke up at 6 am and turned the television on again. I saw the same reel once again. The second plane crashed into the building and the two towers came tumbling down. I could not lie to myself anymore. It was true. It had happened. America had been attacked!
 

I came from a country that had already been through this before many many times. Thirteen bombs had detonated in a space of half an hour across Bombay (now Mumbai), India in 1993. My sister lived in a college dorm in the city at that time. The rest of the family had only recently relocated before this incident. I still recall the panic we felt until we spoke to her and knew she was safe.
 

I spent the whole day, after the day of the attack, listening to the radio and watching the webcast of the days events and recovery efforts. I cannot remember completing any office work on that day. The next day was much the same. I could not bring myself to move away from the visuals and words that described what had happened and its impact on the world.
 

Finally, on Sunday, I broke down. However, I was not just crying for what had happened. I was also crying for what was to come. I could see that peace had been challenged and war was going to be the chosen answer!