Chopra Gotham

American-East Indian noted family, the son of Deepak Chopra and follower of the path of his father, that of spiritual leader and counselor. Where his dad reached the average American on a comprehensive level, Gotham speaks to the young and hip of the early 21st century. A guru-in-training, he writes in the high school news network Channel One to more than eight million students a day. He stresses a spiritual vocabulary that fits todays youth as being cool and current. Along that line, he changed the Indian spelling of his name to one that is resonant with Americas largest city. Gotham has written his first noel, one that traces an Indian orphans search for wisdom. On 9/16/2001, his letter was sent out on email sites: My name is Gotham Chopra and I am Deepaks son. I work with Channel One News, an educational news broadcast that is seen in an estimated 12.5 thousand secondary schools, as a TV reporter. On Tuesday September 11th 2001, at 8 am I boarded a flight in New York headed for Los Angeles. Shortly we rolled out onto the runway, lurched back, fired down the runway, and soared into the sky. It must have been almost 8:30 AM when I looked over my shoulder and gazed out at the New York skyline noting the clear view from Columbia University, my alma mater, all the way down to the World Trade Center. "What a beautiful day," I thought to myself. "I wish I wasnt leaving." I then closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep. A little over 90 minutes later I awoke when the pilots voice came over the loudspeaker. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced in a calm voice, "we are making an emergency landing in Cincinnati because of an apparent terrorist attack in the New York Area. Please stay calm." There was a nervous murmur throughout the cabin. The journalist in me demanded immediate information and I reached for the phone. I quickly ran my credit card through the phone, waited for the dial tone, and dialed our News Desk in Los Angeles. The phone cackled but when the other line picked up, there was no mistaking the panicked tone in one of my colleagues. "Are you okay?" She asked. "I am." I asked for further information. "Two planes crashed into the World Trade Center. Theyve come down. Theyve come down." The phone cut off and went dead. I frantically redialed. No luck. I tried my sister in Los Angeles. No luck. I slowly sat back in my chair and began to panic. I knew my father had flown out of New York on a different flight about an hour before me. I knew my mother was on a flight originating in London destined for San Diego. I tried to meditate and tell myself that everyone would be okay. Tears burned my eyes. When we touched down twenty minutes later, the pilot instructed us not to turn on our cell phones. He gave us instructions to immediately evacuate the plane and follow the instructions of security personnel. We did. Finally in the terminal, I reached for my phone and turned it on. There I stood huddled with hundreds of other interrupted passengers and gazed up at the television. The fresh images of two smoldering stumps - the remainsof the towers of the world trade center - played on the screen. Finally I got in touch with my sister, Mallika, who was sobbing on the other end of the phone. "Im okay. Wheres papa? Wheres mom?" Mallika supplied all of the answers - everyone was safe. I placed my next call again to the office. I knew that there was work at hand. Sure enough, I already had a car reserved and was destined back for New York. At the Read less