At the crack of dawn, I wake up. I lie listening to the familiar sounds of waves lashing at the rocks. From a distance I can hear Janaki calling out to me. In the other room I can hear slight snores from my father. I step out of the hut and a gust of brackish air hits me. Janaki starts signaling. It is late. I hurry in to the kitchen and put some rice for cooking. Janaki is already at my doorstep. I fetch a basket and run outside.
And together we hurry to the seashore.
Usually, Leela beats us to it. And when she gets there first, she haggles and ensures that she gets all the good fish from Gopu. Gopu is the only one who gives us some fish. All the other men have customers from the city. They come early in the morning; when the catch has just arrived.
Today, we are the first ones on the shore. Leela is nowhere in sight. The trawlers have already arrived. Janaki and I wait patiently for them to unload the catch. Today they have red snappers, anchovies, sardines and prawns. As always, the shore is bustling with activity.
Janaki and I finally spot Gopu. When Leela is not around Gopu gives us the fish at a decent rate. We fill our baskets with anchovies and prawns. The prawns are extremely scrawny. But, right now I can afford only the scrawny ones.
With the heavy baskets at our waists, we start walking back. Janaki has to go back home and prepare the morning meal. I, on the other hand, have to tend to my bed-ridden father.
The walk from the shore to home is the only pleasant time in the day for me. I notice some women from my locality spreading mats on the sand, arranging their wares. From trinkets to seashells, they have it all. City-folk come to run on the beach. Some of them even bring their dogs. There is always a group of older people who stand in a circle and laugh. I always wonder why they do that. From the tender-coconut vendor to the life-guards, all of them are slowly coming in.
I reach home. The water in the pot is bubbling over and the rice has cooked. I have to leave for the city in an hour. Before that I have to feed my father and wash the previous day’s clothes.
I suddenly hear this shriek from the neighbour’s hut. I run outside. People are pointing at the sea. Their expressions are cold. I turn around and the sea looks strange. It is as if all the water has swung back and become a very tall wall. In an instant, I know it will come and hit us. It looks like a wall for what seemed like an eternity. Some of the city-folk are clicking pictures with their cameras. A large part of the sea-bed is exposed and is covered with tiny little specks which I assume are seashells. Awe-struck children are filling their pockets with these shells. “No, no! Turn around!”, I scream. But my cries are smothered by the piercing sound of the water charging towards the shore. And with a smashing force it starts engulfing everything. The children disappear, the trawlers disappear, the joggers and their dogs disappear, the coconut trees disappear. My mind freezes. Death is staring me in the eye. All I can think of is my bed-ridden father. I want to run back into the hut. But I cannot move. My feet are glued to the sand. The water is inches away from me. I say a word of prayer and hug the tree near me. And then it hits me. Suddenly everything is black and cold.
I open my eyes. Everything is blurred. My head is splitting. I can see some white figures vaguely. I must be in heaven. Everything is black again. I wake up again. This time I realize I am alive. The nurse tells me that I woke up after two weeks. I am one of the few survivors. Everything is destroyed. I have lost it all at sixteen. My father, my hut, my life.
No comments:
Post a Comment