September 11, 2001. Our neighbours in Chennai lived across the landing. My three-year-old would often go and jump on a beanbag in their living room. Then she would head to the fridge where she would find chocolates just for her, a ritual built on the innocence of a child and the generosity of neighbours. That day, it was they who told us to turn the TV on. A plane crashed into the South Tower. While we witnessed a terrible history being written, my daughter did her happy jumps on the beanbag and helped herself to some chocolates from the fridge.
Alaknanda Sengupta is a homebody, pottering around her house and thinking her thoughts.