Tag Archives: plane

9/11 in Memoriam

At Ground Zero, March 2006 (ignore the homeless/hoodie hair).

Everyone has memories of that day. Doesn’t matter where you were, you remember watching. In horror. In astonishment. In incredulity. And maybe, in detachment.

I lived in Dubai then. I was in grade 10. It was a major year for me. I was going to give my grade ten CBSE board exams. Anyone who has ever studied within the Indian education system, will know how scary they can be. Of course, the exams themselves are easy. But the idea of having your name and grades being publicly published for the world to see is terrifying for a 15/16 year old.

So, there I was. That evening. Studying about Hitler and Mussolini. The phone rang.

“T**** [my embarrassing nickname]! Farida is on the line,” mom called out.

Glad to get a break, I went.

“Hey, what’s up?” I asked, bored.

“Switch on the tv! Some buildings are falling down!”

“What?”

“Some buildings! Hit by a plane!”

“Alright.”

I hung up, and went back to Hitler and Mussolini. Who the hell cared if some idiot pilot had run into some skyscrapers?

My dad came home an hour later.

“Switch on the tv! The Twin Towers have been hit!”

There was a rush to locate the remote.

“Yeah, Farida called and said some buildings were hit,” I said, lamely.

My dad thought I was crazy.

Years later, in 2006, I was in New York. I remember going to the site. And, feeling a strange sense of emptiness.

I realise I am atleast 19 days late on this post. But better late than never, I always say.

Photograph: Copyright Sanchari Sur

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West Coast Tales: Homeward Bound

Homeward Bound

The holiday is over. Your bags are packed. Heavy with your new possessions.

You look around the hotel room one last time. There will be no coming back for forgotten items.

As you leave the room and hear the door close behind you, you are not sad.

You know that there are many more tales waiting for you.

Photograph: Copyright Sanchari Sur

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West Coast Tales: An Introduction

You shake your head in disbelief and stare at the ticket. Somehow that elusive holiday that you have been chasing all summer is finally within your grasps.

You look at your packed bags, mentally checking to see whether you have taken everything. Suddenly, you remember that you have forgotten your iPod and rush upstairs to get it. It will be a long flight and you don’t want to be stuck listening to crying babies.

As the cab pulls away from your house, you let out a little sigh, pinpricks of excitement finally flooding your senses. It had begun. You can’t believe this was finally happening!

You are at the airport. Your bags have been checked in. You have been through the security, and now it was just waiting for the call to board. You tap your foot in beat to “Suno Aisha”, feeling almost as confident and beautiful as Sonam Kapoor in Aisha.

You spy your fellow passengers around you through languorous eyes. The middle aged man in the red tee holding his wife’s hand. The little boy tugging at his sister’s hair, making her cry and his mother yell. The newlywed couple, with the shy wife too abashed to look at her husband directly. You smile, lost in your Aisha world.

Finally, you are on the plane. You have the aisle seat, just the way you like it. Your companion is a tiny old lady who you know will fall asleep as soon as the plane takes off. You are happy as you are not good at small talk, especially with strangers.

As the plane rushes down the runway, with the increasing roar in your ears, you are teetering on the edge of slumber. And, as Abhijit Pohankar comes on with his “Piya Bavari”, you have fallen off the edge, blissfully unaware of the baby that begins to cry.

The following blog posts titled, “West Coast Tales”, will trace my 8 day trip to Victoria, Vancouver and Seattle (in that order). This is my first attempt at travel writing. So, bear with me. Please.

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