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.