Mohammad S. Chowdhury: New York
--The Placeto Be
To Mohammad Sallahuddin Chowdhury, 38, of Queens, New
York was the place to succeed &emdash; especially if you
were confident, smart and very good-looking.
He was supporting his pregnant wife and 6-year-old
daughter by serving banquets at Windows on the World, but
that was only temporary. He had a master's degree in
physics from Bangladesh, where he grew up, and had
studied real estate and computer science in this country.
After a few doleful years in Baltimore, he was determined
to stay in New York. He knew something good would come
up.
Meanwhile, he had a new baby to look forward to. It
was due in September.
"If it's a boy," he told Baraheen Ashrafi, his wife,
"we'll have a perfect family." On Sept. 13, Farqad
Chowdhury was born &emdash; 8 pounds 10 ounces, with deep
black eyes like his father's. "Very expressive," said
Mrs. Ashrafi. "Eyes, like he's trying to tell me
something."
.Baraheen
Ashrafi --the wife left behind:
A Birth, a Death Change Woman's
Life
by
Rekha Basu
columnist for the South Florida
Sun-Sentinel.
NEW YORK · In a third-floor walk-up apartment in
Woodside, Queens, a young woman watches over her newborn
baby and greets mourners.
Through a tragic coincidence of timing and fate,
Baraheen Ashrafi became a World Trade Center widow and
then, two days later, a mother for the second time.
Her husband had taken the week of Sept. 3 off from his
job at the Windows on the World restaurant in preparation
for their child's arrival. But the baby didn't come, so
Mohammed Salahuddin Chowdhury headed back to work the
next week, planning to take off again whenever his wife
gave birth.
Before leaving their apartment Sept. 11, he gave
Sudipta, as his wife is called, his cell phone -- in case
she went into labor. He took his beeper.
He would never again call or come home.
The son he longed for was born Sept. 13.
Today Sudipta, 29, sits in what was their bedroom and
accepts baby gifts from visitors who come to express
condolences. The gifts sit unopened on the dresser. The
baby sleeps in a blue-and-white covered bassinet near the
bed.
At a time usually reserved for celebration, she is
dressed in white, the color of bereavement in their
native Bangladesh. She is staying at home, still
recovering physically from the hormonal changes that
follow a birth and the C-section that brought her child
into the world.
"This kind of pain is bearable, but the pain I have in
my heart ..." she says, stopping short of completing the
thought. As unbearable as it is, she is holding up with
remarkable courage and dignity.
The family has Muslim prayers said for Mohammed every
weekend. And they are ready to register his death. But
until there is a body, in accordance with their religion,
there can be no funeral.
Sudipta and Mohammed were married nine and a half
years ago in Bangladesh, by arrangement. Their first
meeting was the day of the wedding. She smiles coyly when
a visitor asks if it was love at first sight. It's the
only smile to cross her face in a while.
It's obvious from the pictures how close they were.
The photos show a ruggedly handsome man full of smiles
for his young, attractive family.
A relative describes him as giving, helpful and
mild-mannered. He would have turned 39 on Sept. 15.
The baby's arrival was to have completed the family.
With one daughter already, Mohammed was eager for a son,
but to prevent his disappointment, Sudipta used to say,
"Boys and girls are all the same." Sudipta has named her
baby Farqad.
She learned of her husband's death from watching
television that morning. She saw the planes strike the
buildings and then the fire that caused the structures to
collapse. She knew there was no chance of his survival.
The restaurant was on the 107th floor.
Like many new immigrants, Mohammed was overqualified
for the work he did, as a waiter. He had a master's
degree in applied physics, but in a tight job market had
done odd jobs, driven a cab, worked in a lab and taken
computer courses. He'd been in the country since 1987 and
worked at Windows on the World for two years.
He'd been thinking of getting into real estate,
according to his wife. They had looked at houses in Long
Island for a possible move.
Sudipta also has an advanced degree and used to work
in a bank before this last pregnancy.
She discourages any appeals for financial help on her
behalf. Her husband did have life insurance. She doesn't
know what compensation will come from his job, but money
is the last thing on her mind right now.
At the end of Mohammed's workday, Sudipta could always
sense when her husband was about to come in the door of
their apartment. Now, at night, when she moves in and out
of sleep, "My imagination is telling me my husband is
coming and he's opening the door."
That door is now surrounded by many pairs of shoes,
which fill the landing at the top of the staircase. Shoes
are customarily removed before entering a South Asian
home. The small apartment is full of people -- relatives,
strangers, friends, children. Sudipta is surrounded by a
protective sisterhood of women.
One of her husband's seven sisters flew in from London
to be with her. His siblings are scattered as far as
Australia and Canada. When that sister-in-law leaves,
Sudipta's own sister, who lives in the Bronx, will come.
Family members will rotate like that for a while, to help
with the new baby, with her 5-year-old daughter, with the
arrangements, and with her grief.
Relatives tried to reassure her other child, Fahina,
that her daddy would be coming back. The little girl was
devoted to her father. But Sudipta didn't want to
encourage false hope. So she told her daughter the
truth.
Sudipta recalls Fahina's response. "She said, `Mommy,
why are people so bad and mean? My daddy didn't do
anything bad.'"
On Monday, Fahina returned to her first-grade class
for the first time since the World Trade Center
collapsed. Sudipta sought out the school counselor
beforehand, telling her that her daughter gets upset
seeing her cry and might be holding back on expressing
her own grief for fear of adding to her mother's.
Fahina has asked where her father is now. Sudipta
tells her daughter to look up at the sky.
"That star blinking, that one is your dad."
