Fwd: From Gotham Chopra - Deepak's son

[Guest guest]

Fwd: From Gotham Chopra - Deepak's son

A very moving letter...

>

>

>My name is Gotham Chopra and I am Deepak's son. I work

with Channel One

>News, an educational news broadcast that is seen in an

estimated 12.5

>thousand secondary schools, as a TV reporter.

>

>On Tuesday September 11th 2001, at 8 am I boarded a flight

in New York

>headed for Los Angeles. Shortly we rolled out onto the

runway, lurched

>back, fired down the runway, and soared into the sky. It

must have been

>almost 8:30 AM when I looked over my shoulder and gazed

out at the New York

>skyline noting the clear view from Columbia University, my

alma mater, all

>the way down to the World Trade Center. " What a beautiful

day, " I thought

>to myself. " I wish I wasn't leaving. " I then closed my

eyes and drifted

>off to sleep.

>

>A little over 90 minutes later I awoke when the pilot's

voice came over the

>loudspeaker. " Ladies and gentlemen, " he announced in a

calm voice, " we are

>making an emergency landing in Cincinnati because of an

apparent terrorist

>attack in the New York Area. Please stay calm. "

>

>There was a nervous murmur throughout the cabin. The

journalist in me

>demanded immediate information and I reached for the

phone. I quickly ran

>my credit card through the phone, waited for the dial

tone, and dialed our

>News Desk in Los Angeles. The phone cackled but when the

other line picked

>up, there was no mistaking the panicked tone in one of my

colleagues.

>

> " Are you okay? " She asked.

>

> " I am. " I asked for further information.

>

> " Two planes crashed into the World Trade Center. They've

come down. They've

>come down. "

>

>The phone cut off and went dead. I frantically redialed.

>

>No luck.

>

>I tried my sister in Los Angeles.

>

>No luck.

>

>I slowly sat back in my chair and began to panic. I knew

my father had

>flown out of New York on a different flight about an hour

before me. I knew

>my mother was on a flight originating in London destined

for San Diego. I

>tried to meditate and tell myself that everyone would be

okay. Tears burned

>my eyes.

>

>When we touched down twenty minutes later, the pilot

instructed us not to

>turn on our cell phones. He gave us instructions to

immediately evacuate

>the plane and follow the instructions of security

personnel. We did.

>

>Finally in the terminal, I reached for my phone and turned

it on. There I

>stood huddled with hundreds of other interrupted

passengers and gazed up at

>the television. The fresh images of two smoldering stumps

- the remains of

>the towers of the world trade center - played on the

screen. Finally I got

>in touch with my sister, Mallika, who was sobbing on the

other end of the

>phone.

>

> " I'm okay.where's papa.where's mom? "

>

>Mallika supplied all of the answers - everyone was safe. I

placed my next

>call again to the office. I knew that there was work at

hand. Sure enough,

>I already had a car reserved and was destined back for New

York. At the

>rental agency, there was a great shortage of cars. People

in line started

>shouting out their destinations and everyone began

carpooling. I joined two

>other men from the New York area and we were off. Over the

next 12 hours we

>listened closely to the radio as details of the terrorist

attack emerged.

>Every five minutes the name of another family member or

friend popped into

>my head and I dialed the number frantically. Most New York

numbers were

>jammed or out of service. One friend I was able to contact

informed that a

>he was unable to contact a mutual friend of ours. He

worked in the 105th

>floor of one of the towers. He was scheduled to attend an

8:30 meeting.

>Someone from the meeting had called to say they had

survived the initial

>attack and were waiting for a rescue team. No one had

heard from any of

>them since.

>

>Finally just after midnight we made it just to the edge of

New York City,

>in Fort Lee New Jersey. There would be no crossing into

Manhattan Island -

>all the bridges and tunnels had been sealed. I spent the

night in New

>Jersey unable to sleep much and by 6 am, I was dressed and

ready to get in.

>The only way to get across was via the commuter train

which was offering

>limited services. As we pulled toward the station in

Hoboken NJ, the trains

>slowed to a stop. There on the other side of the river

they stood, like

>ashen smoking gravestones, the ruins of the twin towers.

The train car was

>silent and as everyone stood hushed and gazed out the

window. A young woman

>beside me began to whimper. Another man lowered his head

into his hands and

>muffled his sobs.

>

>Back in the city, people walked around in a daze. The

streets were empty of

>cars but full of wandering pedestrians, walking directly

down the middle of

>Broadway and Fifth Avenue. As we made our way downtown (I

had already

>hooked up with a TV crew) we noticed small cafes open and

people filling

>the outside sidewalk seats. People sat mostly in silence

gazing upwards at

>the thick plume of white smoke still snaking its way

westward. At west 4th

>street, a group of kids played basketball. At one point

the ball rolled out

>of play. A young shirtless boy ran after the ball and bent

down to pick it

>up. When he lifted his head he looked up at the air at the

same thick trail

>of smoke. He shook his head and wiped away something from

his eyes - either

>sweat or tears - and turned away.

>

>Walking home, I stopped and talked to a police officer.

After chatting a

>few minutes, the officer asked me if I would like to see

ground zero. I

>agreed to stay just at the edge away from the workers. The

pictures on

>television of the devastation caused by Tuesday's attack

do the scene of

>the crime absolutely no justice. In real life it appears

as if an asteroid

>has hit the lower part of Manhattan. There are charred,

twisting slabs of

>metal and concrete in every direction. It is unfathomable,

unspeakable,

>incomprehensible. The tragedy today is in its infancy. For

the thousand who

>lost their lives, there are thousands more - friends and

family - who will

>never sleep a restful night. There are parents, children,

siblings,

>friends, and neighbors who walked out of their buildings

one morning and

>have not returned. This is a national tragedy but also a

very personal one.

>

>On Wednesday night while in cab returning from work to my

apartment, I

>noticed the Muslim name of my driver. He noticed the tone

of my skin in the

>rear view mirror. He nodded at me. On the radio, the

commentator was

>relaying a warning to all men of Middle Eastern and South

Asian descent -

>to be wary of unwarranted violent reprisals from agitated

residents of the

>city.

>

>The taxi driver again looked at me through the mirror and

smiled

>ironically, " We love America. It is our home. " He shook

his head, " but I

>think we're fucked. "

>

>* * * * *

>

>About a month ago, I rode up with two colleagues to the

Northwest Frontier

>region of Pakistan bordering Afghanistan. We were covering

a story on

>Islamic militancy training grounds based in Pakistani

religious schools.

>In the west they have widely been reported to be ground

zero for the

>grooming of young Muslim boys into hostile anti-western

terrorists. In

>Pakistan, both the government and the men at the school

hotly contested

>these claims, castigating the west for generating such

racist propaganda. I

>traveled to this lost area with as little bias as possible

- but with a

>certain and undeniable fear in my heart.

>

>In the school itself, the chancellor was most kind and

hospitable. He had

>us tour the grounds of the school, meet teachers and some

of the boys -

>though at first we weren't allowed to talk to them. We

were then escorted

>into his private residence. The first thing I noticed on

the center table

>was a bowl of big yellow mangoes and a picture. The

picture was of our host

>- an older Muslim Mullah wearing a traditional white

turban and a stained

>orange beard and his friend - Osama Bin Laden, the number

one man on the

>FBI's list of Most Wanted. I asked our host if we could

interview him. He

>agreed but insisted first that we share mangoes with him.

I agreed and he

>took out a long knife and proceeded to slice the fruit for

me. We slurped

>and chatted for a while and finally were permitted to turn

on the camera.

>

>I asked the Mullah a wide array of questions. " Did he hate

the US? Why is

>there such Anti-Americanism in this part of the world?

Should Americans be

>afraid? "

>

>He answered them all eloquently and without hostility. He

talked about the

>history of the US and Afghanistan, how during the Cold

War, they were

>allies, united fighting a war against the Soviets.

>

> " You gave us weapons and trained our men. You built our

roads, fed our

>people. Do you realize young man that your government

helps to create and

>to fund the Taliban because it was their interest to use

Guerilla warfare

>and terrorist tactics against the Russians? You made us

your friend. "

>

> " But then your Cold War ended and you deserted us. " At

this point, there

>was a hint of animosity in his voice. " Because it was no

longer in your

>selfish interest to have us as your allies, you abandoned

us, left our

>people, hungry, and hateful. You turned your friends into

foes because you

>used us like whores. "

>

>There was a silence between us.

>

>Finally I asked him about the picture, about the nature of

his relationship

>with Mr. Bin Laden.

>

> " He's an old friend. And a good man. "

>

>I shook my head. " Is he a terrorist? "

>

> " We don't call him that here. " The Mullah made it clear he

was not

>interested in talking any more. We shook hands. I thanked

him for his

>hospitality.

>

>On the way out I thought about that hospitality. I knew

that the Mullah

>himself had endorsed a fatwa, or religious order, by Bin

Laden several

>years ago urging Muslims to kill American civilians. But

here was this man

>cutting mangoes for us and being very gracious.

>

> " Today you are our guest. If we were not hospitable, we

would be very

>ashamed. But in times of war, yes you would be an enemy

and we may kill

>you. Today a friend, tomorrow, inshallah (God willing),

there will not be

>one. "

>

>* * * * *

>Today Friday September 14, 2001, four days since the

terrorist attack, it

>appears we may be on the threshold of war. Our President

has called it the

>First World War of the 21st century. I am not sure whom we

will be

>fighting. I would like to go to my favorite café in the

city - a small

>Egyptian place on the Lower East Side that I have been

going to since

>college. The waiters - mostly young Middle Eastern guys

who like to talk

>about basketball and soccer, who come and sit at your

table and share a

>puff on the sweet tobacco hookas they serve there - they

are my friends.

>But I'm not sure when it will open again, if it will open

again. There's a

>Mosque next door that has been closed since the attack.

>

>The weeks and months and perhaps even years ahead promise

to be

>complex and wary. Hopefully our leaders will be judicious,

precise,

>and compassionate

>in the difficult decisions that lay ahead. But it is each

of us that now

>must rise up and be the true warriors in this difficult

time. Does that

>mean seizing weapons and braving the threat of death out

on a battlefield?

>

>Precisely not. Because the battlefield is invisible. The

enemy is elusive.

>The web of evil too complex. Today there are no answers.

It is too early

>for solutions for remedies. For now we each have our

stories - where we

>were on the day that the twin towers toppled. Each one is

dramatic; each

>one is tragic. From this day forward, everyday I shall

observe a quiet

>remembrance for the victims of this calamity. Each one of

us may choose our

>own way how to memorialize this moment but I believe we

are all obligated

>to reflect for a moment, to care about our neighbor, to

meditate for peace

>and tolerance because ultimately the only forces that can

defeat such

>profound evil are compassion and hope.

>

>I ask everyone on this board to join my father and me in

prayer for the

>healing of our wounded civilization (if we can call it

that). Let us pray

>every day to our Gods remembering, as my dad has taught me

since childhood,

>that Christ was not a Christian, Mohammed was not a

Mohammeden,

>Buddha was not a Buddhist, and Krishna was not a Hindu.

>

>Love,

>

>Gotham

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[Guest guest]

> Fwd: From Gotham Chopra - Deepak's son

>

> A very moving letter...

It is amazing to read some of the accounts from the States at the

moment. I have just received an email from another group where

we have all been worried about a lady who's cousin was

missing - she was on the 90th floor of WTC1. She posted last

night that they had now given up hope and assumed she was

lost....only to get one just now where it turns out she has been

found in a hospital! Apparently she was so dazed she gave her

daughter's first name instead of her own, and then passed out

until last night - when she woke up and gave them her proper

details!

A miracle indeed.

Caroline