A Night Of Fear - I Watched The Twin Towers Collapse Knowing My Uncle Was Inside One Of Them

September 11, 2001 - a nightmare that's almost impossible to forget. As images and videos splashed across screens on TV channels people slowly took in what had really happened. In the blink of an eye, people had lost their loved ones.

Nobody really knew how it had happened or who was responsible, until it was discovered to be the doing of Al Qaeda and Osama Bin Laden. Laden was finally eliminated in 2011, but that is another story. This story is not about the event itself, nor is it about the effect it would have on the Muslims in the USA. This story is about a family that spent an entire night wondering whether or not they had lost a family member.

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At 9:00 pm the news broke on most channels that the Twin Towers had been hit by two planes. At that point we had no clue it was a terrorist attack. But suddenly my dad realised - his youngest brother's (my uncle's) office was on the 22nd floor of the North Tower. Frantically, he called his personal number.

Phone lines were busy and calls were not going through. We were glued to the TV set wondering what was going on as the towers burned down. Many people were still inside and there was no doubt that the death toll was going to be catastrophic. At that point, all my mom, dad and the other family members could think of was, if he would make it out alive.

My aunt in the US (his wife) and her seven-year-old daughter could not reach him on his cell either. By midnight the towers began to disintegrate, and we could feel our hearts sink.

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Whenever there is a terrorist attack, we feel sad, we sympathise and are even outraged. But now that an act of terrorism had hit so close to home, it suddenly seemed too real and too scary to handle. Through the night, we killed time by watching the news, playing crossword puzzles - basically, anything that would distract us from the crippling anxiety we felt. We could do nothing but wait for news to come from some source - a phone call, public service announcement, radio, anything would do.

At 3:30 am IST, the phone rang and an excited and exhausted voice from the other end said, "Dada (elder brother), I am ok. I got minor head injuries but I made it out after the first plane hit. I have got in touch with Gargi (his wife) and Paula (his daughter) and they know I am fine."

My father's face rarely betrayed emotion, but that day the relief was evident. Since losing my grandfather at an early age, as the eldest son he had sort of doubled up as a parent as well and my uncle - since he was the youngest - was the apple of his eye. After over 6 hours of fear, anxiety and what felt like endless waiting our nightmare ended.

The next day at school, this was obviously the hot topic. I spoke to a friend whose mom would have been on one of the flights but had missed it due to car trouble.

For Christmas that year, my uncle came to visit us and narrated the happenings of that day in detail - how scared he was and how his escape felt like a miracle.

Now, 17 years later, things have changed. My uncle and aunt still live in New Jersey, their daughter has grown up and is working, my father passed away five years after the attacks and I am working with a reputed media house. On the surface, things are just fine. They have, in fact, changed for the better, but the scars of 2001 are still intact.

As much as I am relieved my uncle made it out alive, I know that many were not so fortunate. While I will never be able to understand the pain felt by those who lost their loved ones, I can perhaps empathise with them better because of what I went through. More often than not, a tragedy like this leaves reminders on people's hearts. But, the perseverance of the human soul is such, that we learn to bury the pain and move on with our lives... At least we try.