Survival

Dark clouds were looming at the horizon. In few minutes they would have traveled few miles in westward direction and came closer. This is not usually the scene at noon in the hottest month of the year. Dark clouds meant something ominous. Probably sign of an impending storm or maybe a cyclone approaching. Sea is a capricious lady. Bay of Bengal was no different. It was infamous for cyclones, and Orissa was often at the receiving end of nature’s fury.

Ramdas was few miles into the sea. So were his brethrens of the fishermen community. There were around a hundred boats in the sea that day. No one anticipated the storm. So no one even thought of staying back at the shore and miss out on their livelihood of the day. Ramdas was alone in his boat. He owned the boat. His son helped him with his job. They managed to get enough as to earn a square meal a day.

They had a good rapport with others of fishing community. But of late that relationship was breaking down. No reasons for that. Nor was relationship that bad. It was just that it wasn’t as good as before. Most of the fellow fisherman earned more than before, but Ramdas felt his earnings were stagnant. Few years ago, major chunks of his earnigs were spent for medical expenses of his wife. Maybe, that difference in earnings made him a bit jealous.

Out of the boats in the sea, a quarter belonged to the village head, famously or infamously known as Lala. He was the biggest money lender of the village and was regarded as cunning, shrewd and cruel. Maybe, that was the reason why he commanded such a respect in village. His boat was equipped with heavy machinery and could venture much farther into the sea than Ramdas could have managed.

That day Ramdas was nearly seven miles away from the shore, while others with modern equipment were on average thrice as far, and probably they’ll catch thrice as much fish as Ramdas. But Ramdas couldn’t have afforded that. So he had to be satisfied with his small boat, which he had to fend alone for that day as his son was ill. He seemed out of favor with lady luck, as the fishes seemed to have deserted that area. Probably they had a premonition of what was about to come. Ramdas could see the storm approaching, and had to fight it alone. The prize of victory was survival.

The storm raised its hood, and came nearer. The rains started. With each passing moment, it began to get heavier. The next day’s newspaper would report that a cyclone whose origins lay somewhere in the Bay of Bengal hit the east coast of India at a speed of 190 km per hour causing widespread destruction to life and property, and leaving thousands dead and much more homeless. Probably Ramdas would become just another number, among one of those few thousands. Or maybe not!

Within minutes, the small boat was completely wet and was getting water logged. Ramdas was completely drenched and made attempts to withstand the wind as valiantly as the boat did. The boat could have capsized any moment. But it didn’t. It withstood all the challenges posed by the winds bravely. It survived … At least for few minutes.

The tides were higher and mightier than ever. The small boat had no chance of survival. Lala’s boats could have survived for a while, but not his boat. They were designed for survival in a calm sea, not in the sea it was now. One giant tide … and everything may be lost; gone forever. He saw one such tide coming.

“Ah, this is the last breath of my life”, thought he, remembering all the gods and goddesses in what he thought would be the last moment of his life.

But miracles do happen. The boat rose high up with the giant tide, was in the air for a moment and when it seemed that it would turn upside down, offering everything it had to the sea, it was back in the sea, in the same position it had left it. This wouldn’t classify exactly as a miracle, but it was nothing short of it. Ramdas was first time lucky. But the question was that how long his luck would really be with him. Maybe, for few more minutes at max. After all, very few survived such a storm and such wild tides, if at all anyone did.

Another tide came. But he escaped unharmed. He couldn’t understand what was going on. Maybe, he was lucky for the last time before it would desert him. Meanwhile he couldn’t spot any boat till far. Maybe he was lost. Probably others were lost. Or the other boats simply ceased to exist. While he was lost in his thoughts, his boat was attacked by another time, and this time he wasn’t all that lucky. The boat tossed up in the air with the tide, turned upside down and was broken into pieces after a moment. The moment had finally come. After all, he could not be lucky all the time.

He lost contact with anything wooden, and a moment later he was few feet inside the sea. But his tireless efforts to keep afloat brought him to the surface where he encountered a wooden piece. He recognized it as part of his boat that once existed minutes ago. He fought for survival by clinging to that piece. He could barely see now. He could just feel the sea and the watery grave around him.

The game of tide continued for few minutes after which it subsided. It was only the winds that subsided. Rains didn’t. He was just hoping that somehow the interplay of tides and weather gods make him reach the shore safely. But he had miles to cover before that happened. There were moments when his grip was loosening, when he was just too tired to hold on anything, moments when rainfall was too heavy to be bearable. Thankfully, there were no sharks in that part of the sea, though some dangerous creatures were present. But it was drowning that he was most scared of. In midst of all these, Ramdas fell asleep … rather unconscious. Few hours’ later rain would have subsided, and Ramdas would have reached a deserted place very close to his village. While this happened, he would be largely unaware of it happening

He woke up when it was few hours since the sun rays graced the shore. In fact it was almost noon. He had slept for too long. Then things began to flash in front of his eyes. He looked around but found nothing intact. He decided to have a stroll through his village but found nothing but houses which were destroyed. There was not a living soul to be found.

“Where have they gone?”

“Have they all perished with the storm?”

“Am I in some other village? No. Village is pretty much the same. I can recognize the places. Yes it is my place. But where are the people?”

Meanwhile he managed to see a person. He seemed to be someone from army from whom he learnt that a cyclone had struck the village two days ago killing every inhabitant there. The dead bodies were removed the very next day to avoid spread of disease. No one in the village was alive. No one who went to sea was alive, except him. He realized that he had slept through entire day and a half, absolutely unaware of all the dreadful happenings around.

Everyone in the village was dead - His wife, his son, his neighbors, other fishermen, Lalaji, Everyone. No one survived. Entire village of 400 inhabitants was wiped off from existence, as if it never existed.

“I am the only survivor of the storm. How lucky I am. But I have lost everything I had, everyone I had ever known. It can’t get worse than this. Ah … my bad luck!”

The only survivor walked through the ruins, to somewhere even he didn’t know. Maybe, somewhere else a new life awaited him.