A Perfect Day

BY ASHU RAI

“They make those buildings so darn tall something’s bound to crash into ‘em”, the owner of Sweetheart Bakery mutters as I grab my coconut-blueberry muffin and 12 oz coffee, glancing at the 12 inch B&W TV atop the counter, set to NY1 with a live feed of the World Trade Center’s North Tower on fire.

It was 8:45 am and I was running late for my client meeting in the Flatiron. I descend into the Q train station and race to a seat in the left aisle, quietly cursing myself for not running home to get my camera.

As the train exits the tunnel and climbs the creaky Manhattan Bridge from Brooklyn into the city, the entire car shifts to the left as we all watch not one, but two towers, on fire. The South tower in direct view had a massive gaping hole with large extending flames and thousands of pieces of paper and debris flitting about, Dante’s Inferno if it ever existed.

As the subway creeps across the river, I calmly tell a hipster that a plane caused the damage, unaware that two planes, not one, created the destruction in both towers.  “No way” he angrily shouts.  “That was no plane!” his blue eyes filled with disbelief and terror.

An hour later, after the realization that my client meeting was not taking place, I miraculously reach Asif, who begins his 25-block trek downtown from Hell’s Kitchen by foot, and then join the other workers released from their offices, banks and institutions.  In the middle of 5^th Avenue underneath the deep and calm blue skies, we all lean against open car doors listening to random phrases emanating from the radios – ”Pentagon”, “lost planes”, “Bin Laden”, “Pennsylvania”  “Afghanistan”– as we collectively search for an explanation to the chaos.

All of a sudden, Asif runs up panting and breathless and gives me a tight hug, shaking in disbelief. “I just saw the scariest thing!” he yells. “A man standing in the middle of 34th street with an American flag in each hand raised up and just standing there, NOT saying a word!”   I shake my head and utter, “It’s over”.

We then walk a few blocks towards the south and sit quietly on the ground at Union Square solemnly watching the mournful parade of shell-shocked office workers, with their work clothes covered in black soot, walking north through the park as far away as possible from the destruction to the south.  I then nudge Asif and we both look towards an elderly Muslim gentlemen, with a flowing white beard dressed in a shalwar kameez, looking disoriented and confused on17^th street, trying to comprehend the fast, unfolding events.  He stood alone in the middle of the street as throngs of New Yorkers walked carefully around him with trepidation and fear.  I think to myself, “Do I help him, maybe get him to safety.  What is he in danger of, I’m not sure?” I then ask Asif, “What should we do”?  And then within the blink of an eye, the gentleman vanishes into the crowded sidewalk in front of Barnes and Noble.

Later that evening, in Vivek’s West Village apartment, I managed to reunite with my close friends – drinking copious amounts of red wine and taking in the burning smell wafting outside the tiny one bedroom apartment while exchanging horror stories.  As soon as the two towers collapsed, Asif’s boyfriend Amir immediately removed his gorgeous blue Moroccan kurta and stuffed it into his bag, fearful of any backlash that would happen.  Sunita was still shaken by her experience trying to navigate her SUV down the FDR Drive from the Bronx while a construction worker in a white pickup truck followed her for two miles harassing her with obscene gestures.

Later on, a few of us went down to Tribeca to donate blood, while the rest of us witnessed the beginning of the end on CNN with President Bush’s initial launch of the “War on Terror”, still unaware and naïve as to what lay ahead for South Asian New Yorkers – city flight, empty restaurants, wary stares on the subway, layoffs, bashings, freedom fries, anthrax, Patriot Act, Shock and Awe – all because of that beautiful blue-skied, perfect morning in 2001.

Ashu Rai is a resident DJ and co-founder of Sholay Productions (www.sholayevents.com) which produces “Desilicious”, NYC’s monthly queer South Asian dance party since March 2002. Sholay Productions was formed in the dark days after September 11, by Ashu and her two partners, Atif Toor and Rajesh Parwatkar, who felt that a monthly dance party with an eclectic mix of Bollywood and house music would be the perfect antidote for queer South Asians feeling marginalized in post-9/11 New York.  Ashu has performed at many of the premiere venues in NYC, including Limelight, Pachita, Club Shelter, Pyramid, Highline Ballroom, BB King’s and Rebel. Originally from Northern California, Ashu has lived in New York since 1997 and was a member of the South Asian Women’s Creative Collective’s (SAWCC) founding board.