A flight to Kolkata and memories of 9/11
ON the anniversary of the 9/11 terror attacks, my thoughts drift to that tragic day. I was at the Bengaluru HAL airport, ready to board a flight to Kolkata. My employer, the State Bank of India, had deputed me to the Foreign Department of the bank located at Jawaharlal Nehru Road, Kolkata, to reconcile the Nostro entries for the branches in Bengaluru, which were authorised to conduct foreign exchange transactions. I would be away from family, friend, and colleagues for at least three months. By the way, this was my maiden visit to the City of Joy!
The airport was bustling with passengers glued to the visuals playing on the television screens that day. From my peripheral vision, I could discern an aeroplane careening into the Twin Towers of the World Trade Centre and engulfing the tower in flames. I observed individuals shrieking and tumbling from the upper levels as the structure ignited and turned into a massive fireball.
The visuals on the TV screen seemed straight out of a Hollywood thriller. However, I didn't comprehend the seriousness of the situation. As I held on to my belongings and read a newspaper, I paid little attention to the people around me.
As soon as the barriers opened, I leapt out of my seat, grabbed my belongings and hurried to join the lengthy queue of passengers waiting to board the aeroplane. Some passengers had unsettling facial expressions, but I ignored them. In the pre-mobile phone era, staying connected with the family was challenging. Back then, we relied on landline phone calls or traditional mail and telegrams to contact relatives. In the days when snail mail was the norm, a letter sent from Kolkata to Bengaluru would usually take a week to arrive.
It was common practice to contact family members shortly after reaching the destination. Within minutes of touchdown, I reached out to my family in Kolkata and my mother, frantic, answered the call. ‘Were you aware that al Qaeda hijacked four aeroplanes and carried out suicide attacks in the United States?’ Concerned, she enquired if I was safe.
Upon hearing of my safe arrival, the tension dissipated and a collective sigh of relief could be felt. The alarming images shown on television had unsettled the viewers. Although I was going to the City of Joy and not the United States, the alarming visuals of the attack had made my family anxious, which didn't surprise me. My mother, in particular, had spared no effort to keep me in her prayers.
The gravity of the situation didn't sink in until I spoke with my mother. The TV footage I had witnessed at the Bengaluru airport was not a movie, as I initially perceived it to be, but the coverage of the 9/11 terror attacks. For months after that, I was scared of travelling by air. Twenty-three years have elapsed since that fateful day, but my recollection of those nerve-wracking moments is still vivid.
