Terrified, she stared through the clear glass of the window on the 19th floor. It was coming directly towards her. The steaming mug in her hand shook. No, it had not changed route. Hot coffee spilled scalding her fingers. She did not even look down. Her eyes were glued to the chopper. It was flying straight coming closer and closer. Cockpit, tail rotor, main fuselage, main rotor was visible now. A vision streamed through her mind; the plane exploding into WTC towers; buildings crashing like a pack of cards; people running terror writ on faces!
Was it going to happen again? To me?
By now, the chopper was close enough. She could see into the plexi-glass cockpit. The pilot was wearing a white helmet and some kind of brown parka.
But could he see me? Could he see that he was heading right into me? Was his chopper out of control? Or did he want to crash into me? No..no… must be a mistake. Who would want to attack me? Nobody knew me in Chicago city.
She did not want to die! How could she stop it…stop herself from decimating into thin air?
Should I fold my palms and plead? He should understand that universal gesture, even if my words don’t reach him. Would he let her go, then?
The chopper closed in, looming up… huge… gigantic …filling the full window! Frozen, petrified, she could not even take a step back. Across the divide of a couple of feet, her numb mind noted the grin plastered on the pilot’s face. It was her only point of focus because the rest was hidden behind helmet and goggles. Eyes wide open, she braced for the impact; the tremendous blow; the blast; the pain. On the verge of crashing into the room, the chopper suddenly veered away at the last second. It climbed up steadily, as if pulled by invisible wires. It moved out of sight… a tiny bit of rotor hovered for an instant at the corner of the window frame. Then it slid off the glass. A chak-chak, chak-chak echoed in the empty room. Motionless, Ipshita stared at the corner, unable to believe what had not happened. Chak-chak, chak-chak…further and further, fainter and fainter. The whirring finally faded to a deafening silence!
Here I was... thinking how to reach out
to you...wondering what would connect us...
And then my eyes fell on these words by Rumi...
Why struggle to open a door between us
when the whole wall is an illusion?
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