Some Truths, A Few Stories

 

 

(Some Truths, A Few Stories)

I have witnessed and suffered a number of cyclones; like Titli, Phailin, Huhhud, Fani or Amphan. The first cyclone I experienced when I was in Class VIII, in 1971. I was thirteen; staying in my maternal uncle’s house, and studying in their village school. On 29^th October, I was sleeping after my night meal. My uncle woke me up. Severe storm lashed, the old house of mud and thatch was shaking. He took me to a small thatched two roomed house he had built the same year; one room was for the kitchen and the other used for the guests, and my study. Then all the villagers of my uncle’s village had mud walls and thatched house except Jagabandhu. Jagabandhu was relatively rich in the village; he had a house of bricks and cement with tin roof. The strong wind had flown away his tin roof; the first man who suffered loss in the cyclone. He along with his family had already taken shelter in my study room. In the morning, I saw many houses had been damaged, cows dead and trees uprooted including the lonely banyan tree in the school playground. The long hall, partitioned to accommodate four classes, of our school had also fallen.

The official death toll of persons stood at 7397, but unofficial sources gave the figure much higher. It was a Friday.

(Review of the book in the Sambad)

Twenty-eight years later, in 1999, I was in Cuttack. As a mere coincidence, my daughter was in Class VIII. It was also 29 October and a Friday. This time the government had warned about the imminent cyclone, but people did not heed to the warning. In the morning, the rain had started. I was preparing to go to the office. The rain increased. I waited. The rain took the form of heavy storm. I decided not to go to the office. I changed my office dress to casuals, and sat on the balcony.

I was residing in a concrete building, and had no fear of the cyclone. On the backyard, there were two mango trees, one Jamun (black berry) tree and one simuli (silk cotton) tree. In the night, birds including a few parrots rested in the trees. Their chirping woke me up every day in the early morning. On that day of heavy rains and strong cyclone I watched the trees falling down one by one. It pained me to realize birds would never come to rest, for there would be no trees, and birds’ chirping would no longer wake me up in the early morning.

The official death toll was 9887, besides thousands of cattle died. People say the actual death toll was more than forty thousand. This was called super cyclone.

I had written one piece and captioned ‘aktobarar dui asubha sukrabaar’ (Two Black Fridays of October), which was published in ‘Sambad’.

(Review in the Prameya)

The cyclone Fani hit Odisha on 3^rd May, 2019. It was also a Friday. I had already retired from government service. The people had become conscious after super cyclone of 1999 and heeding to government's warning. In the meantime, they had also witnessed Titli, Phailin, Huhhud. The Government had evacuated people from near the sea coast and low area, and settled them in the temporary shelter houses. The death toll was 64. But power supply had been cut off; electric poles and wiring had been damaged, many trees uprooted in Puri and Bhubaneswar. The government took more than ten days to restore power supply in Bhubaneswar.

I had written my experience of the cyclone, ‘Fani: Sei dasa dina’ (Fani: Those Ten Days) in the magazine, ‘Teera Tarang’.

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The full name of Rupa was Ester Rupa Sahu Jyrowa. I asked, “Rupa Sahu seems to be an Odia name, Ester is Christian and Jyrowa seems to have some connection with a tribe. How can you have such a name?”

Rupa said, “My grandfather was an Odia, my grandmother was Assamese. My mother is from Meghalaya. My name contains all of them. We are Christian.”

I asked, “Your husband?”

She said, “He is a Hindu."

Rupa is talkative.  We were returning from Kamakshya temple on the zigzag road of the hills. From the hills, the city of Guwahati looked like a postcard painting. I asked, “Yours was a love marriage?”

She said, “Yes."

I asked, “Didn’t your husband’s parents object?”

Rupa said, “When we knew each other and our friendship grew, my would-be husband told, if his parents would approve, we would proceed further, and marry. One day he invited me for tea to his house. On the first meeting itself, his father agreed, and then we married.”

“What does your father-in-law do?” I asked.

“He is a member of the RSS, now a leader of the BJP.” She replied

 

Normally the members of RSS were staunch believers of Hinduism, believed to be conservative and Hindu fundamentalists. But her father-in-law was broad minded, perhaps, because of the liberal cultural tradition of Assam. Rupa said, “Sir, you are a Hindu, I am Christian and our driver, Rehman is a Muslim. This is real India.”

I added, “You are truly a representative of our pluralistic Indian tradition.”

[From the story, ‘Brahmaputra Bakshare Gangara Pratidhwani’ (Echoes of the Ganga on the Heart of Brhmaputra)]

The book ‘Kichhi Sata Kichhi Gapa’ (Some Truths, A few Stories), published by Shalandi Books contains thirty-six stories. 

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