The Mother

 I left my daughter in a park, in a strange city, at eight o’ clock in the evening, when she was just three. As my husband of 15 years slept in our hotel bed, I walked out of the room with our daughter with no such intention. She was being cranky in the closed space. So, I dressed her up in her favourite blue dress with a small Little Red Riding Hood applique on the left pocket, paired with her white and gold sneakers and took her out for a stroll. A couple of yards away, just around a corner, we came across a small children park. We went in and she immediately ran towards the swings. At that time, there were still a few children playing, their parents walking or gossiping nearby. I pushed the swing, as she squealed in delight. Then she ran off to the slides. And while she was screeching as she slid down the slide, I just turned and walked out of the park- without a backward glance. Without her; our Rayna. It was a dark moonless night.

An hour later, when my husband woke up and found that we were not in the room, he came looking for us and found me in the bar. I was drinking my favourite cocktail- red wine with a splash of Fanta over translucent cubes of ice. I had tasted this in Spain, long ago, where it was known as ‘tinto-de-verano’ or the red wine of summer. The taste still lingers on in my palate and I would never have any other drink after that. The suave barman seemed astonished when I asked for it and was about to remark something when I just turned my back to him. This thwarted him and he left to mix my drink with a ‘humph’.

The bar was shimmering with disco lights and was almost empty. A lone female singer in hippie attire was belting out songs of the 80’s. I was so immersed in the songs that I did not see my husband barging into the bar room looking for me and Rayna. But, the air around me sizzled and I felt his rage licking its way across the tables, scorching me. I turned on my bar-stool looking towards the doorway. His eyes skimmed the dark interiors looking for me and as it alighted upon me, it smoldered with rage. In an instant he was beside me, gripping my elbows so tightly that it burnt me and left imprints of his rough fingers on my delicate skin.

“Why are you here at this hour and where’s Rayna?” he rasped, his voice grating like tires on gravel and laced with worry as he looked around the bar searching for his daughter. He almost shook me out of the stool and I jerked away my hands angrily, pushing him away from me, and gulped down my drink in one go.

“Answer me, damn you, Maya. Where’s Rayna? He shouted, panic making him hysterical.

Smacking the remnants of the Fanta’s flavor from my lips, I brought my face close to his and looking deep into his pain-filled eyes, answered, “I took her to a nearby park and left her there.” No repentance, no shock; just cold blood bubbling out like fine champagne.

“You did what?” The shock on his face made me want to laugh out loud, but I held it back and gulped it down, letting it settle down in my gut grumpily.

“She’s just three! And it’s so dark!” my husband continued, speaking more to himself than to me, his voice thick and the words squeezed out forcefully. He staggered backwards. I saw a veil of fear falling over his usually smiling dark eyes. His last words drew the attention of the bartender and, from the corner of my eyes, I saw that his jaws dropped open and his eyes had grown as wide as those alien flying saucers. He looked so comical that the laughter that had settled down in my gut could not stay confined and it gurgled out just as tears rolled down my eyes. This confused me. “Were they tears of mirth, or of sorrow?” And as always, when something confounds me and I don’t have the answers, I brushed it aside. “I’ll think about this later."

A range of emotions - bewilderment, anger, fear - flitted across my husband’s face as he stared at me for a moment before spinning around and hurtling past the tables out of the bar-room to go looking for his soul, his darling daughter, Rayna. And that was the last time I saw him.

As I sat there listening to my husband’s, rather, Rayna’s father’s receding footsteps, I felt the walls slowly closing in around me. A strange whirring sound emerged out of nowhere, growing in intensity, seeming to break every sound barrier, until it became unbearable and everything crashed upon me and the world turned black.

I opened my eyes in a dark, dank space. A musty smell of dampness combined with the smell of urine and latrine assailed my senses and jerked me awake. “Where am I?” As my senses returned fully, I smelled another strange smell trailing the disgusting urine smell- rat poop. I jumped and backed away colliding into something cold and solid. “A damp wall!” I squinted to adjust to the dim light and looked around. A thin beam of light streamed in from somewhere above and I looked up to search for the source. At that moment I felt something furry graze my foot and my gaze fell downwards already knowing what it was. I started screaming. “Take me out of here! Please, please, take me out of here.” I screamed and screamed. It seemed like an eternity. I screamed for help, I screamed obscenities, I screamed pleading for forgiveness. I screamed till I was hoarse and my voice shattered into rags and, at last, my voice disappeared and no sound emerged.

At last, fatigue from all that screaming overtook me and I dropped down to the cold floor, curled up and fell asleep. When I woke up, my situation hadn’t changed. I was still in that dark, damp, dank space with that same weak and wavering light throwing gloomy shadows all over the place and the stench of urine and excreta stifling the air and making the space claustrophobic. I didn’t know how long I slept. But my growling stomach told me it must have been a really long time since I had a proper meal. I remembered the tinto-de-vereno, and felt my throat go dry. I called out again and again. But no response came back to me.

Slowly, my brain realized that I was imprisoned and held under solitary confinement- the harshest of punishment awarded to the vilest of lawbreaker. But who has imprisoned me? Why was I here? I had to conserve my strength. I had to think. But the smell of urine and rat poop distracted me from thinking. I was unable to bring my mind under control for some time. I stopped breathing and emptied my brain of all thoughts; a trick I mastered with years of training in mindfulness and to act consciously. Slowly the putrid odor faded away and my mind was once again under my control.

I tried to remember the moments before the darkness engulfed me.

I was on a holiday trip with my husband and daughter. We were so happy. Ray and I were childhood sweethearts and we married early. Ray had graduated in Law and his brilliance reaped rich rewards because pf which we were able to lead an affluent life and was able to plan for a wonderful future with two kids joining us in a couple of years. As I loved to travel I went along with Ray on every one of his outstation business trips. We were having the time of our life. Then, four years later, Rayna came into our lives. Life became exhilarating. The first few days were hectic- preparing the nursery, feeding the baby, changing diapers, taking turns at nights to take a peek at Rayna, entertaining guests popping over to take a peek at cute little Rayna, and the list went on. She was a delightful and happy child. Soon she occupied every moment of our lives, more so of Ray’s than mine and life fell into a neat pattern centered on Rayna. Ray curtailed his outstation trips just so he could spend more time with us. When Rayna turned three, we decided we should take a break and go on an overseas trip. I was overjoyed. It would be our first since Rayna was born.

Throughout the flight, I read everything I could about the place as Ray kept Rayna entertained. The flight was over all too soon and finally we landed in our chosen paradise. We explored all the spots I had picked out during the flight and tasted all the amazing dishes the place had to offer. The week went by in a Jiffy and it was time to end the blissful days and return to the daily grind. On our last day, Ray wanted to call it an early night while I was loath to end the day yet. I noticed that Rayna too was not in a mood to go to bed.

“I’m going out for a stroll downstairs for a bit and I’m taking Rayna with me so you can have a good nap.” Ray agreed and dressing up Rayna in her favourite blue dress with a Little Red Riding hood applique on her left pocket along with her white and gold sneakers, I took her little fingers in my hand and walked out.

And my memories ended there.

I strained my mind to bring up the moments after that, but all I could see was empty blackness. The countless hours of mindfulness training failed me in my direst hour of need. Panic gripped me. What is this place? How did I end up here? Where was Rayna? Where was Ray? He must be frantic with worry. Were we kidnapped? What did they do to Rayna? Thinking about my beautiful, little girl, hurt and frightened somewhere, alone, ripped my heart to pieces and I started screaming again. This time I just pleaded, “Please let me see my daughter. Please let me out. Just tell me if she is okay.” Still no answers. Just silence and the wavering, pale-yellow beam of light.

The realization of the futility of my screams dejected me and I crumbled in a heap on the rough, icy floor. My howling whimpered into sobs and died down. I don’t know how long I was there. It seemed like an eternity. Howling, whimpering, sobbing and falling into deep sleep. It became a pattern. The emptiness had begun to creep up on me, twining around my very soul and squeezing the last bit of life out of me. Why was this happening to me?

Sometimes, in my sleep I saw Ray, sometimes Rayna. But they were both different in my dreams. Ray is angry and Rayna cranky.

They are not my Ray and Rayna. My Ray and Rayna are so calm and loving.

Slowly the frequency of the cycle of howling-whimpering-sobbing-falling asleep lessened in frequency and one day I could not summon the strength to even sob. I just lay on the cold, bare ground, looking up, following the feeble yellow light when the sound of laughter trickled down towards me. I perked up and sat up straight.

“Rayna, baby, is that you? Are you okay?” I called out, not really expecting any answer. But a sweet voice floated down,

“Don’t worry mumma. You left me in the park. But I was brave and did not cry. And Daddy found me. But who will find you?”

Holi in the Skies

 "Look where you have brought me!" Radha stopped running, trying to catch her breath. Her beloved could keep on running to the ends of heaven and return without feeling tired. They had been playing catch-catch and throwing colours at each other. So engrossed were they with each other that they had almost reached Earth without noticing. Radha had stopped breathlessly and turned back towards her beloved who had reached her at the very next instant. He came up behind her and encircled her slim waist with his dark muscular arms.

"The Earth looks so serene and beautiful at this time of the day, doesn't it, my dear?"

"Mmmm. Brahmaji really outside himself while creating this place." Radha mused with a sigh. 

Just then, they saw a child sitting in front of her home. 

"Look Radha! What a cute child. She seems to be engrossed in doing something."

"Yes! I think she is playing with a new thing the humans have invented. She's not even aware of the beauty around her."

"Let's make her see this beauty."

The ever mischievous Krishna immediately came up with a plan.

The little girl who had been busy with the mobile, as her mother pecked away on the  computer setting the question paper for the upcoming exam of her students, looked up in surprise hearing the rumble of thunder. 

"Oh! What a respite it would be from this hot weather if it would just rain a bit. But I guess the wind is going to blow away any rain that might have showered. Damn!" she thought. 

Suddenly the sky burst into a bright pink colour and her breath caught in a gasp at the breathtaking beauty enfolding in front of her eyes. And then again, a vibrant violet spread across the rim of the pink. Throwing aside her mobile she ran towards the boundary fence and saw the glorious colours reflected in the mighty Brahmaputra that had been lying serenely just a few moments ago. 

"Mom!" she shouted. "You've got to see this and bring your camera. Come quickly, you don't want to miss this."

An avid lover of nature, Payal didn't need to be heeded a second time. She ran out with her camera and gasped at the vista spread out in front of her. The whole area was bathed in surreal hues, vibrant colours; as if a painter had enough of drawing shapes and just splashed his favourite colours across the canvas.  

And without wasting another breath she started clicking her camera capturing the beauty for eternity.  And as she stared at the skies, spellbound, she thought that she saw two figures, "Radha and Krishna?" her mind wondered incredulously. They seemed to be playing Holi with each other in the skies......

Answered Prayers

The rains came suddenly and in torrents, splashing upon and cascading down from the thick foliage that served as a canopy for the swing upon which Mitra had fallen asleep, startling her out of her deep slumber. Mitra sat up lazily, enjoying the feel as her parched skin lapped up the water, as if  quenching it’s thirst.  Bringing up her knees to her chin, she encircled her long slender legs with her slim arms as a dozen silver bangles dangling on her perfectly rounded wrists jingled merrily. She sat there, torrents of water showering upon her, giggling with the delight of a child getting her favorite ice-cream. Mitra loved the rains and became a small child whenever it rained.
So enraptured was she, that she didn’t even notice the terrace door burst open and her husband Divesh rush out with a big black umbrella. Holding the umbrella on one hand, Divesh scooped up Mitra with the other, as easily as if she were a bouquet of flowers and not a 100 pound human body, and was back inside the building with a screaming Mitra scratching at his back.
“Let go of me, you giant moron!” she squealed, her small oval face contorted like a ball of red wool as her delicate palms, balled into tight fists, rained down blows on Divesh's chest and back. As he stepped inside the covered lounge on the terrace,  Divesh closed the umbrella shut and flung it towards a hook on a corner behind the door and the umbrella, finding its mark, slid down on the hook easily and rested there dripping off the rain water it had collected on its short trip outside. Without missing a step, he carried Mitra into the bathroom and dropped her inside the tub like a bag of hot potatoes. She squealed again, this time in pain, as her bony behind met the hard fiber of the silvery white Jacuzzi tub. Ignoring the angry torrent of words that emanated from her pale, plump lips, Divesh ran the bath with warm water and turned towards Mitra. The words stopped immediately, leaving her lips slightly agape, as the warm water lapped over her and rose around her.
Without a word, Divesh looked at her, passion mingled with anger, and undressed her. He let her soak in the hot water for some time, then pulled her up and wrapping her in a fuzzy pink bathrobe, carried her to their bedroom, sat her down on a stool and rubbed off the water from her hair and finished the job by drying it with a dryer.
Mitra’s indignation at being pulled out of the rain had ebbed away like the rain outside and she could feel Divesh’s silent anger hovering in the room, as palpable as the hum of a bee, as he went about pulling drawers and shutting doors of the wardrobe to take out a dress for her. Finally finding one he liked he went over to her and handed it to her.
As she took the dress from him, he spoke for the first time. “ I’m going to the den to finish my work,” he said, his voice laden with steel. “Dress up and slip inside the covers and don’t come out from there. I’m sending up some hot and spicy soup for you,” he ordered and turned to leave, but was immobilized as her soft hands grabbed his rough one, and with a voice dripped in honey, she called out a plaintive apology, sending a thrill down his spine. Her touch and voice always did that to him. And when that happened, he could not stay angry with her anymore. Turning towards her, he knelt down beside her, wrapped his hands over her palms and with a voice made gruff with pain and passion cried, the long held tears now flowing copiously,
“Why do you do this to me? Aren’t you happy that you sent me to hell once? Why do you want to throw me back there again? And believe me, Mitra, this time I won’t be able to make it out even if you can.” Divesh warned, his throat tightening with fear thinking of the consequences of Mitra’s childishness.
Mitra bent down and enveloped him in her arms, pulling him towards her, hugging him tightly, both crying in each other’s arms.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” She kept on  repeating softly as the nightmares of the past year came hurtling back whirling around her head and making her sway. The nightmare which engulfed the whole city and wiped it out. The nightmare which had crept up on her, taken her unaware and pushed her into a dark tunnel. A big long nightmare from which her husband had pulled her out with daily fervent prayers and an unbroken fast for fourteen days.
The virus had appeared innocently as a common cold and flu. Brought into the country by a jet-setter. But slowly, it unraveled its viscous fangs and had taken the whole country in its grip. Mitra, a shoe designer was in Guwahati for an entrepreneurs meet, when the virus was engulfing her city within its vicious grip. Divesh, an archeologist, was safely ensconced deep in the Aravalli on a digging expedition blissfully unaware that his world was dissipating. No network connection, had ensured his blissful ignorance. The moment she heard about a possible lockdown, Mitra had returned to her flat in the posh Marine Drive locality, a 5 minute walk from Trident Hotel. Knowing that Divesh was unreachable by phone, she had dispatched her office boy, Lucky, to the Aravalli's to warn Divesh of the situation. By the time Divesh came to know of the situation, the entire country was under lockdown and his whole team, along with Lucky, was stuck in Udaipur.
Meanwhile, in Mumbai, being able to connect with Divesh, Mitra was able to relax a bit. She checked her groceries. Though not full, Mitra was assured that it would last her for at least a fortnight, if she could stop herself from binge eating sprees to see her through her sleepless nights. She even enjoyed having the big flat to herself for a few days, without having to pick up towels and spare shirts and slippers Divesh was prone to leave around in the house.  A week crawled by. Another fortnight, before the warm, muscled body and sweat-sheened arms would lull her to sleep. The sleepless nights had decimated her snack and beverage supplies and she began to worry. When she voiced her worries to Divesh, he warned her not to go out for any such supplies. The situation was very bad in Mumbai. Coughing slightly, she promised to be good.
“You have an adequate supply of your inhaler refills, right?” Divesh asked, trying to keep the worry out of his voice.
“Now, no need to be a fusspot! It’s just a cough, not something to worry about.”, Mitra chided, a smile lacing her voice, making it seem husky. It made him yearn to be with her. To see the smile that curved up at the corners in such a delectable way, that he couldn’t resist kissing her. He longed for the  luxuriant feel of the luscious, warm, wine flavored lips upon his own. To feel her silky smooth hair caress the contours of his face. He cursed his bad luck and said roughly,
“Don’t be flippant, Mitra! Take care. I’ll be home soon. Keep yourself safe and ready for me. Till then bye!” He blew her a kiss and disconnected the phone before she could return the kiss.
Unbidden tears stung her eyes, and she dropped the phone on her bedside table and picked up the book she had been trying to read the whole week. She was not much of a reader and now the longing for Divesh made her even more  unable to concentrate on the tactics the defense lawyer was using to save his guilty client. A spate of coughs racked her body and she reached for the inhaler kept ready beside her pillow. A few puffs and she could breathe easier. But her throat felt hoarse. She took a swig from the water bottle beside her and felt her eyelids strain, indicating that sleep was on its way. She kept aside her book and sunk down into the soft pillows, covered in light pink cottons and let sleep overtake her senses. She woke up in the middle of the night sweating, her throat burning and feeling feverish. Her head felt as if it was trying to split up into pieces. She rose coughing, trying to clear her throat. Fear gripped her as she touched her forehead and found it was burning. She was certain the virus had somehow entered her. Fighting down her panic, she fumbled towards the kitchen, clutching the phone in her shaking hands. She remembered her friend telling that an infected person should gargle with warm water and have some hot tea if possible. She did just that, and returned to her bed and called up the emergency number that crowded her phone from the numerous forwarded whatsapp messages. She dragged herself to the main door and left it open, then called up her neighbor to inform them of her condition and also to call up Divesh in the morning and let him know she was in the hospital. She did not want to call Divesh in this condition and knew she won’t be able to do it in the morning. Soon the emergency ambulance arrived along with municipal workers, who cordoned off the building and put the residents under strict quarantine. In the Ambulance, with a last vision of Divesh's haggard face, Mitra slipped into unconsciousness.
A distraught Divesh, pleading with authorities to let him travel to Mumbai by a private vehicle of the 5 star hotel he was staying in, arrived the next evening, only to be told that he could not even see his beloved Mitra, let alone meet her. Her condition was not good, she being an asthma patient, the doctors informed him, devoid of any feeling coloring their voice. The doctors also seemed like Zombies to him. Thankfully the authorities lodged him in a clean and septic room in the same hospital, following quarantine rules and for tests. A couple of days later, his tests came out negative and he was allowed to return home. It had been disinfected and, thankfully, no other resident showed any sign of the infection. That was the outcome when one followed self isolation religiously like the residents of Aastha Apartments. Divesh was restless during those days. He went on a complete fast and kept praying for Mitra. He would talk to the photos that she had lovingly framed by herself and scattered it all over the house. She said that it made her feel that this was a home filled with happy people. He would talk to the photos and willed her to get well through sheer force of his prayers. A month later, strictly warned that she was to take good care and never indulge in activities that would aggravate her asthma, Mitra limped into their apartment, leaning on the still strong, but highly emaciated body of Divesh.
It had been a year now and they had moved to the suburbs, getting a bungalow at a quiet locality. Mitra was well and Divesh replenished his muscles and abs. But the spark in Mitra had died. The will to live was gone. Only Divesh's intense love burned stronger, trying to reignite her flame bit by bit with each passing day.
Mitra loved the swing in the terrace. It was her favorite place. Immersed in the fragrance of the beautiful fauna adorning the terrace, as well as the perfume of the flowers that wafted over from the garden below, she could lose herself here and be free from the nagging feeling of incompleteness. The first rains after she came back from the hospital and they moved in into the new house had brought her alive. Divesh was ecstatic to have his Mitra back. But it was short-lived. That very night they had to rush her to the hospital as she succumbed to a severe Asthma attack. The doctor was furious when told that she had been in the rain. The doctor explained to Divesh to be very careful and avoid Mitra getting exposed to the cold as it may trigger a reversal and this time it could be life-threatening. This was enough to send Divesh into a frenzy and he strictly forbade her to go out in the rain again. But the rain water on her skin felt like a balm and she was not able to resist getting wet.
So, when the rains started that afternoon, Divesh knew instinctively that Mitra was in the terrace and he rushed out and brought her in. For some time now, Divesh had reached the end of his tether. It was becoming very difficult to handle Mitra. His gentle Mitra. Today had been the limit and his perseverance snapped and the tears came hurtling out. Bringing himself under control, Divesh stood up abruptly and stepped back away from her. As he was about to leave the room, her timid voice, once again stopped him on his tracks.
“Please don’t leave, Divesh. I’m sorry. I thought you’ll stop loving me soon. I believed that I cannot hold you to me any longer. This has been killing me inside slowly. I thought it was better to die than lose you. But I now realize your love is not superficial. You love my soul and not my body. I realize that as I died I was killing you too. Please forgive me. I want to live. For you. For the family we dreamt of. Please help me come back to life as you once did. Please!”
Fresh tears breaking through, Divesh turned and reached her in a single step and pulled her into his arms kissing her tears away, and hugging her in a tight grip.
“Thank you, God! Thank you for bringing back my Mitra back again!” he cried and kissed her deeply.
You see, last time, Divesh’s prayers were answered, but it was not the same Mitra he had left behind, who came back with him. That Mitra had won the battle against the deadly virus, but at the cost of the beautiful eyes, clear as the stream water, in the depths of which he had once sought solace. The Virus had not only taken her eyes, it had also robbed her off her zest for life and will to live. She felt incomplete and this had snatched away her faith in Divesh, in his love for her. But it could not diminish Divesh’s faith. He was sure that his Mitra would be back. And here she was, whole in the embrace of his arms. Whole in the power of his love. She was complete with him beside her. She did not need her eyes to feel complete any more.

The Flood

 

It was the month of August. The air was heavily laden with unshed humidity. Dark clouds hung low over the night sky, obscuring the moon which was on the last leg of its journey towards unleashing its full splendor.

Deepika lowered her sleeping baby inside the mosquito met on the 18^th century, teak, four-poster bed that had belonged to her husband’s great grand-parents and handed down over the generations. As she lowered the flame on the kerosene lamp on the dressing table, an ominous feeling engulfed her. Her heart seemed as heavy as the clouds that hovered over their dilapidated home; another 18^th century handover of their great grand-parents. Lost in thought, she loosened the hair that had been wrung up into a tight bun at the nape of her slender neck and let it tumble down her gently sloping shoulder to lay quietly on her pert bosom heavy with the milk for her 7 month old Niyor. She removed her “Chador’ and with only her petticoat and blouse, slipped in inside the mosquito net and lay down beside the sleeping Niyor and kissed the top of his perfect round hairless crown. Finally, embracing the moment she had been craving for since the sun went down, Deepika lay down her own head on the soft cotton pillow, Dilip, her husband, had made with his own hands. A sigh of relief heaved out of her, thankful that the day had come to an end and she can let the bed bear the burden of her tired aching body.

Unlike other days, sleep did not come easily today. She missed the loving hands of Dilip softly caressing her hair and  moving, delicately over her back , the curves of her hips and waist and coming to rest on her bosom, lulling her to sleep. He had gone to Guwahati to attend his nephew’s wedding, which Deepika had to miss because of young Niyor. Besides that, the ominous feeling hadn’t left her yet and it now squeezed her heart and constricted her throat. An unknown fear. As a city girl and an only child, Deepika had grown up like a tomboy and had never felt any fear. So, this feeling now puzzled and deeply disturbed her. She tried singing a naam ghoxa, she had learnt from her late mother-in-law, hoping for relief from that feeling and praying for sleep. But sleep still eluded her.  The incessant mooing of Damayanti, the milking cow, and their only property of any value, added to her distress. With a prayer to Krishna, she forcefully shut her almond shaped eyes. It was then that she noticed that, except for Damayanti’s mooing, the night was eerily silent. There was a strange reprieve from the endless barking of the street dogs and even the buzz of the crickets and fireflies and the hum of the cloud of mosquitoes that hovered over the mosquito net, were absent. Deepika was sure that some evil was about to enter her life and destroy it. She ran her calloused hands over the scrawny body of her baby to ensure if he was alright. She hugged him tightly for more reassurance. Gradually the warmth from Niyor’s tiny body seeped into her body and soul. She felt her eyelid grow heavy and allowed sleep drown her into a fitful slumber.

Unknown to her, outside, the wind had gathered speed and was whipping up a storm. Those who had not yet winded their day, heard the wind howling and came out to their front porches, wondering at the destruction of vegetation that was sure to follow. But they were thankful that, at least, they would be reprieved from the unbearable heat that bore down on them since the last month. They were thankful that monsoon had arrived.

Other states of Assam dreaded the arrival of monsoon that was the harbinger of destruction of lives, homes and properties. But Kaliabor had never reeled under floods since 1968. Many had almost forgotten about it, and the new generation had only heard of it as a fireside tale. As Deepika slumbered, the rain started to fall in torrents. It took countless precious minutes for the banging on the window to penetrate the deep fog of sleep that lay upon Deepika’s fatigued brain. As the loud rattling sound finally reached Deepika, she jumped up with a start and scrambling out of the bed, raised the wick of the lamp that lay flickering on the bottom of the wick tube. Covering herself with the discarded chador, she forced out a strong voice, “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Jagat, Bou.” The voice of her neighbour, full of alarm and concern came floating overriding the sound of the rain pellets on the tin roof. Relieved, Deepika opened the window and asked,

“What’s the matter Jagat? Why did you have to wake me up at this hour and just when I had finally grabbed a few winks of sleep?” she asked in a frustrated voice.

Seeing Jagat’s face etched with worry, the dark thoughts resurfaced and she again felt her heart squeeze.

“Does this have anything to do with Dilip? Is he alright?” Fear for Dilip assailed her.

Though, Jagat’s next words comforted her regarding Dilip, she understood the reason for the unreasonable fear she had been feeling since the late evening.

“The Hatimura Dyke has broken, Bou and the Brahmaputra is rushing towards us in full force.”

The words sent a chill down Deepika’s spine. Dilip was away. What was she going to do all alone? How was she going to shield Niyor from the angry river’s onslaught. As a myriad thoughts swirled in her mind, Jagat’s voice brought her back to face the present predicament.

“Don’t waste time trying to save anything Bou. Take just the bare necessities and come out quickly. We are all moving towards Xonarigaon. The land there is at a higher level and hopefully the Brahmaputra won’t reach it. Be quick! There is no time.”

Just as he finished his warning, Damayanti wailed more frantically and Jagat became more alarmed.

“Bou, run to our place through the front door, the backyard is starting to flood.” Jagat shouted. “I’ll release Damayanti and join you.” Saying so, Jagat ran towards the cowshed leaving Deepika stranded alone and really frightened. Forcing herself to be calm and chanting Krishna’s name, Damayanti wrapped the sleeping Niyor in a bedsheet, picked up a water bottle a few of Niyor’s clothes, a packet of biscuits and tied it into a bundle in a Gamosha. A rumbling sound approaching from almost behind her made her steps quicker and she ran towards the front door. Just as she opened the front door, she heard a loud creak followed by a whooshing sound and knew she was doomed.Deepika started running out of the door towards Jagat’s house. She had just reached the gate when a cold sensation stroking her feet stopped her in her tracks. She knew there was no use trying to run. With profound sadness, she looked into the sleeping Niyor’s face. The serenity on his face transmitted some amount of determination and courage into her sagging spirits. As rushing water rose over her heels, up her ankles to her calf, trying to dislodge her, she caught hold of the gate fence post, holding Niyor tightly to her bosom. Something hard struck her legs and she looked around her. Utensils, stools, chairs, trunks, TVs and other knick-knacks came floating by. Water had, now, reached up to her waist. Then she saw something that sparked some more hope into her. It was Damayanti. Jagat had probably released her and the waters now carried her along with its speeding current. She raised Niyor onto her shoulders, to keep him above water level, and waded cumbersomely towards Damayanti. As Damayanti was about to float past her, Deepika caught hold of Damayanti’s neck and held onto her firmly. Holding Niyor with one hand and clinging on to Damayanti’s neck with her other, Deepika allowed herself to be swept away by the force of the water.

A few moments later, or maybe hours later, she had lost all sense of time, Deepika felt Damayanti struggling to keep afloat. Fortunately, both Deepika and Damayanti were good swimmers and they somehow managed to keep afloat. The rushing waters hurled them along ferociously. Her left arm, with which she held Niyor securely, felt numb. Still holding onto Damayanti’s neck, Deepika managed to manipulate Niyor from her shoulder to Damayanti’s back, praying that someone finds and rescues them before they drown. She kept her energies focussed on Niyor and continued calling out to Krishna to come to her aid just as He had come for Draupadi. Her breath was sagging and her eyelids drooped . She stroked Damayanti’s neck, thanking her for her efforts to keep them safe. As if hearing her, Damayanti mooed softly. Thoughts of what might have happened to Jagat and of the others flickered on her mind for a moment and wandered towards Dilip. Remorse filled her with thoughts that she won’t see him again and was unable to even bid him the final goodbye. Fatigue and hopelessness gripped her again and she let her eyelids drop. She shut her eyes and let her mind float with the rushing waters. Damayanti mooed again. Deepika felt as if Damayanti was making her final struggles, knowing that she was carrying a huge responsibility and she could not give up yet. Suddenly she felt as if the waters had stopped moving. The sight she saw on opening her eyes brought out a smile on her lip. The sun’s soft rays lit up he shore. She realised that she was entangled in a mass of water hyacinth and the waters were moving slowly. Damayanti lay still. On her left she saw the shore and people lined up along the shore, trying to capture the revival of the Kolong river, along with the destruction the river had wrought, with their mobile phones. Seeing a second chance at life, renewed energy flowed through every cell of her being and she struggled to rise above the water hyacinth which was rising up at an alarming rate almost about to suffocate her and her son. The renewed energy lent voice to her parched throat and she shouted, “HELP!”, with all her might. But her voice did not carry over to the noisy crowd. She and her baby were unnoticeable amongst the water hyacinths.

Then, from out of nowhere, she saw a Bhel (a contraption made by tying 3 to 4 banana stems and used as a raft) coming towards her, tearing at the water hyacinths. As the Bhel approached, she saw there was a young boy and an old lady clutching a goat on it. Maybe they have lost their home in the flood too but managed to escape with their lives. It felt as if Krishna had really heard her call and sent this Bhel to rescue her. She called out again with all her might. But when it seemed that she was not being seen, nor heard, she picked up the now awake and shrieking Niyor and raised him up as far as her arms would reach. This time the boy heard the baby’s shrieks and turned towards their direction. Seeing them, at last, he turned the Bhel towards them rowing with all his might. Within seconds he reached her a caught hold of Niyor. Placing him securely on the raft, the young lad caught Deepika’s slender wrist and pulled her up. She looked towards Damayanti and then up at the boy with pleading eyes. The boy reached out and touched Damayanti’s limp body and immediately realised that Damayanti had given up her struggles some time ago, maybe, when they got entangled in the mass of the water hyacinth.

“It’s no use, Baideo,” he addressed Deepika.

Deepika’s eyes filled up with tears and she thanked the brave soul for keeping them safe throughout the ordeal. Deepika lay down on the raft, letting the relief wash over her, savouring every breath she took The boy then rowed them out of the mess towards the bank. Niyor’s cries brought her out of her limbo and she picked him up and hugged him gently to her bosom, sobbing copiously. Soon they reached the banks of the river and eager hands pulled them out of the raft and led them to dry grounds, to the makeshift shelters made for the flood affected people.

Someone took hold of Niyor and led Deepika to a secluded place for her to change into dry clothes. Deepika went through the motions feeling nothing. She was bone tired. Someone tried to feed her something but she refused. She just wanted to lie down for some time. To be alone. But this was a relief camp. Different people from different village who had managed to survive the flood, people like herself, had sought refuge here. Some had lost their dear ones along with their property. Some had lost only their property. There was wailing and crying everywhere. Some people just lay stunned wondering how to begin their lives once again.

Deepika looked around at all the hopeless people around her. A feeling of gratitude came over her. She was safe, Niyor was safe and they had Dilip safe somewhere in Guwahati. They will find each other and be together again. She had full faith in her hard working husband. They’ll build their lives from scratch once again. At least they still had the land to build their home. The old home was badly in need of repairs, now they’ll build it up once again. A smile brightened up her tired face. They still had tomorrow.