Rain, Flood and My School days

News of flood reminds me of my school days.
In class VI we were asked to write an essay on ‘Our School’ in ten lines and we were taught to write the first three lines like this:
1. The name of our school is Jagulaee High School
2. Our school is situated on the bank of river Kelua
3. There is an embankment in front of our school
So, the school was situated between the river and an embankment. Not only our school, but also three other villages were situated in between the river and the embankment. The purpose of the embankment was to protect villages against flood, but the embankment constructed to protect other villages against the flood of river Kelua put the school and the three villages more in danger of high flood. The danger point of Brahmani (of which Kelua is a branch) at Jenapur is 67 feet, but, we knew, when the water level of Brahmani touched 64 feet at Jenapur, Kelua overflowed and flood water entered into our School campus.
It was 1975. I was in class XI. The school did not have a hostel. Three teachers were staying without their families in the school campus. I was sharing a room with one of the teachers. Shankar, the peon cum cook appointed on contractual basis in a monthly salary of a paltry sum of Rs 30 and free meals, cooked for us.
It was the month of July. One morning I woke up to find it was raining. The rain had started in the night and there was heavy downpour. That was the first depression rain of the season.
I liked rain and my favourite season was rainy season. Those days were happy days. The chasses generally remained suspended as the students could not come to the school. I enjoyed watching rain falling on the grass and leaves of the trees and hearing the sound of the fall of rain drops. I picked up a story book or a novel and read sitting in a class room alone and watching fall of rain drops on long leaves of the coconut trees of the campus, and rambled on in the world of my imagination.
The downpour continued unabated. In the third day by evening there was a slight change in the weather. The downpour gave way to drizzling. During those days the medium of communication with the outside world was radio. We had one. We listened to the regional news to know about rain and flood situation. But at that time the radio we had was out of order, and it required repair. One of our teachers asked Shankar to go to the river and see the water level. It was evening. Shankar without going wrongly reported that the water level had hardly touched the half mark. Since it was the first depression rain of the season and the river was almost empty before the rain started, Shankar bluffed assuming the situation might not be that serious. Later, we learnt that water level of Brahmani at Jenapur had touched 72, much above the danger point.
We slept after we had our night meals. At about 12 in the night, one of the three teachers got up hearing murmuring sound of the water entering into school campus. He wakened others. Our school had a new one storied building. We took our things from our rooms to the roof of the new building. We had hardly finished carrying the things to the roof, water entered into the office and class rooms. Of course, one of our teachers with help of Shankar had arranged the records of the office and science instruments on the top of the almirahs so as to protect those getting drenched and damaged in flood water.
The rain stopped; there was sunshine in the morning. But water was everywhere. From the nearby village, two milkman families came and took shelter on the roof along with us. Flood water had damaged the mud walls of their houses which collapsed. With much difficulty they waded across the water, the male members carrying the children on their shoulders and the women carrying whatever they could save and carry from the flood water. Among them was Sanju who was my classmate. She had dropped out of the school after class VII. Her father who eked out a living by rearing buffalos and selling milk, butter and ghee, could not afford to fund for her further study. Moreover, in those days and in the rural area, importance was not given for girls’ education.
I was very pleased to see Sanju. She had grown up; the frock she wore was tight for her body. Perhaps, she used to wear frock at home, but saree when she came out to go somewhere. But it was a different situation. She had to come out of the house to save her life and had no scope or means to change her dress. She looked beautiful. I was then at 16, she would be at 16 or more.
Sanju’s mother took over cooking; the woman of the other family and Sanju helped her. We had a kerosene stove, and also kerosene in stock. Shankar provided them the stove, and supplied rice, dal and vegetables whatever was with us. They cooked rice and dalema for all the persons taken shelter on the roof top. It was a kind of feast despite the flood and adversity. Sanju was very shy, perhaps, for the dress and the adversity they were in. She was avoiding eye contact with me.
In the evening I felt severe cold and headache. My teacher touched my forehead and said it was fever. I had to take rest. Shankar prepared a bed on the roof. I slept looking at the sky. Shankar covered me with a blanket. I was too tired that day for being busy whole day in carrying and arranging the things and doing other things in mud and water. I went into sleep immediately.
I woke up in the morning with a touch on my forehead and saw Sanju examining whether or not I had fever. She wore a sweet smile on her lips and a soft look on her eyes. Her face looked like the face of Goddess Durga. She happily declared, “You don’t have temperature, you are cured of fever.” Her mother said, “Wake up, brush your teeth, eat a handful of chuda and drink a cup of tea. You will feel invigorated.”
Later that day, Shankar told me that I was running with high temperature and was in a delirious condition. Sanju’s mother heated garlic with mustard oil and massaged my feet, palms and legs with the oil mixed with garlic. Sanju put a handkerchief soaked with water on my forehead. Both Sanju and her mother had nursed me; Sanju had not slept the whole night, she was sitting beside my bed.
The rain had stopped. The flood water receded. Sanju and her family left for their homes leaving behind a warm memory of a sweet smile, soft look in a Goddess like face.
This year there is heavy downpour of depression rain followed by flood in river Brahmani, Baitarani, Kharasrota and Kelua. Flood has devastated the districts of Jajpur and Kendrapara. TV camera shows the submerged fields, villages with temples and homes. I could guess the situation of my school sitting here at Cuttack. There are reports that this year the flood situation is worse than that of 1975. Flood water would have nearly touched the roof of the school building. All of my school teachers have retired. They are with their sons and families. Some of new teachers of the school might be staying in the school campus. The school has improved. It now boasts of a big two storied building. If a few teachers were there, they would not be facing the same problem we faced 36 years back. No one might have also come to take shelter in the school building as most of the people have now concrete houses. They have their own roofs to take shelter.
But where would be Sanju now? That Goddess like face with a sweet smile on her lips and soft look on her eyes are still fresh in my memory.
xxxxxxxxxx

Waiting for her

(2)
Akrur has not come with the chariot
Buffalo has not visited my dreams
Crow has not cawed on the roof top
The announcer has not beaten his drums
The post and telegraph department
Has not brought any message
Still
South breeze stops blowing
The flowers of the trees wilt
A lull after the storm pervades the market
Coconut trees stand
Like sentries standing
Beside the dead body of the assassinated prime minister

I know
The time of your visit has come

I open the door
Queen of nights have fallen
Like someone has decorated the path
To welcome his dearest one
The soft morning sun has dispelled the mist
The path snakes towards the horizon

The path eagerly waits for her promised visit
To set her foot and walk on its chest

I sit on the veranda of my house
To receive her

I know
If you come
You will come through the back door
That I have kept open

xxxxxx

Waiting for her

(1)
You are coming
I have the news
Today or in the next month
Tomorrow or in the next year
You have not fixed the date and time
But I am sure
You are coming

Today she came
To the office on official work
I had been waiting for this day
Since long ago
She had been always in my mind

She is today as she was
When I first met her years ago
She wore a smile on her face
Her eyes gave off a feeling of many untold stories
I found her the way
I expected to find her

I have many things to tell
Things inside me competed with each other
To come out first
But words failed
I could not tell
Felt pain in my chest

How could I tell in the office?
Amidst the known and unknown faces
My voice would have been drowned
In the words like ‘yes sir’, ‘thank you’?

She looked at me
Her look pierced into my eyes
And from my eyes into my heart

She told at the time of parting
She would come again
This time
Not to the office on official work

I am afraid
You might visit me
Before she comes again

xxxxx

Mumbai on a rainy day

Train reaches the station
Ends excitement
An unknown fear grips
Giving rise to anxiety

Black clouds hover over Mumbai sky
Terrible downpour floods the city lanes
A car met an accident
The injured driver taken to hospital

She pervades everywhere, everything
Black clouds and incessant rain
The damaged car and the injured man
The lonely moments and waking hours

The wind soaked with rain
Touches the body
That wets the mind and
Sets ablaze the heart

The unending rain and the stormy wind
Being incapable of extinguishing the fire within

*******