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Cyclone Amphan-A Double Disaster for Bengal from the eyes of a Calcuttan
Kolkata, the city of Joy, has always embraced its guests, welcomed festivities from different corners of the world like their own and has been a harbor to smiles and laughs since long but the face stands changed today.
2:00p.m. 20th May. A cool breeze is blowing outside, the trees are swaying themselves with the wind and the ripe mangoes outside my window are instigating my taste buds. 'After all, this is not the first cyclone here',I told my mother,sitting right beside me. The sky is covered by brumous clouds and there is hardly any sunlight peeping through. My brother who happens to be an young lad of 15 years, had always waited impatiently in the past expecting an adventure to follow the gusty winds but was always put down by nature. So he is indifferent today, blithely enjoying the cool winds which have come as a respite to the sweltering heat. 'Nothing has happened, nothing will happen.',came his flippant remark. As the hours are passing, the wind intensifies and has started grumbling like an angry beer. The trees, as if frightened and petrified are duly following her orders and singing in percussion . The mangoes, I have been waiting for so long are falling to the grace of Earth, waiting to be collected by someone who can rescue them from these howling winds. 3:30p.m. 20th May. We have been forced to close our windows, we are unable to see what is happening outside-can only hear the growling of winds, determined to outrun any chaser and trample any hurdle she sees on her way. The rain, too has responded to the orchestrated rhythm, hammering the ground like a salvo of bullets. The shrieks of the trees are now getting suppressed by the increasing rage of the winds. 6:00p.m. 20th May. We are certain things will not be the same once the disaster ends. Sounds of rattling window panes and breaking rooftops cross my ears. We are in anguish now. We certainly do not know if we can still keep the unwelcome guest outside our house. The more we try to keep it outside, greater the force she applies to break things down. However, amidst the pain and agony, the boisterous fellow cries inside me. It wants to have a taste of the wind. I respond to the cries and slowly climb down the stairs, hoping I could at least pass the 7 feet vennel and get to the next house. I come outside the door and the unassailable wind comes unnerving my balance, getting me down on my feet. I can hardly stand up to apologize now.But, I have to get back home. I surely do. She then might have been overwhelmed by my benighted plight and like a mother out on revenge for disrespecting her children and yet a mother, lets me go, allows me to run. And back I come, shutting the door behind. From a swashbuckler, I have turned to an exploited wrath in a minute. The plummeting of trees ensues with loud vrooms and the sky roars in its stentorian voice. It's completely dark outside. We can see a pool of water in front of our houses. Two stray cats have taken shelter in our garage, on a raised platform. They are hungry and scared. They will not have any food. They want to escape but cannot.
10 p.m. 20th May. The howling has stopped, the wind has gone, the damage has been done. The world outside is still pelting with rain. Water has come inside our home and we need to clean it up. Seems our efforts to keep the angry mother at bay have not been completely otiose. An onerous task follows wiping the floors and pushing the flogged water out. Lights are out. Electricity snapped. No cable connection. Network connectivity is very poor. It has been 24 hours and much hasn't yet changed. Trees and posts have been uprooted, roads are blocked, a marginal difference exists between the before and after photos of iconic places in Kolkata, a complete destruction has ensued.We are in a very sorry state and yet very fortunate.
In the time we were thinking of ways to clean our houses or trying to call our local electricity provider, people have lost their lives, mothers have lost children, children have lost their parents, men and women have lost their livelihood, crops have been damaged. I can estimate the expression on the face of a reader, who might have been a victim like me or like us but then what about the double disaster? They were already without food and shelter. They have already lost all other ways of earning. The only thing they depended upon was production, production of raw materials that have ultimately served our stomachs. They now have lost their last ray of hope. They no longer beg for mercy. They beg for death.
2:00p.m. 20th May. A cool breeze is blowing outside, the trees are swaying themselves with the wind and the ripe mangoes outside my window are instigating my taste buds. 'After all, this is not the first cyclone here',I told my mother,sitting right beside me. The sky is covered by brumous clouds and there is hardly any sunlight peeping through. My brother who happens to be an young lad of 15 years, had always waited impatiently in the past expecting an adventure to follow the gusty winds but was always put down by nature. So he is indifferent today, blithely enjoying the cool winds which have come as a respite to the sweltering heat. 'Nothing has happened, nothing will happen.',came his flippant remark. As the hours are passing, the wind intensifies and has started grumbling like an angry beer. The trees, as if frightened and petrified are duly following her orders and singing in percussion . The mangoes, I have been waiting for so long are falling to the grace of Earth, waiting to be collected by someone who can rescue them from these howling winds. 3:30p.m. 20th May. We have been forced to close our windows, we are unable to see what is happening outside-can only hear the growling of winds, determined to outrun any chaser and trample any hurdle she sees on her way. The rain, too has responded to the orchestrated rhythm, hammering the ground like a salvo of bullets. The shrieks of the trees are now getting suppressed by the increasing rage of the winds. 6:00p.m. 20th May. We are certain things will not be the same once the disaster ends. Sounds of rattling window panes and breaking rooftops cross my ears. We are in anguish now. We certainly do not know if we can still keep the unwelcome guest outside our house. The more we try to keep it outside, greater the force she applies to break things down. However, amidst the pain and agony, the boisterous fellow cries inside me. It wants to have a taste of the wind. I respond to the cries and slowly climb down the stairs, hoping I could at least pass the 7 feet vennel and get to the next house. I come outside the door and the unassailable wind comes unnerving my balance, getting me down on my feet. I can hardly stand up to apologize now.But, I have to get back home. I surely do. She then might have been overwhelmed by my benighted plight and like a mother out on revenge for disrespecting her children and yet a mother, lets me go, allows me to run. And back I come, shutting the door behind. From a swashbuckler, I have turned to an exploited wrath in a minute. The plummeting of trees ensues with loud vrooms and the sky roars in its stentorian voice. It's completely dark outside. We can see a pool of water in front of our houses. Two stray cats have taken shelter in our garage, on a raised platform. They are hungry and scared. They will not have any food. They want to escape but cannot.
10 p.m. 20th May. The howling has stopped, the wind has gone, the damage has been done. The world outside is still pelting with rain. Water has come inside our home and we need to clean it up. Seems our efforts to keep the angry mother at bay have not been completely otiose. An onerous task follows wiping the floors and pushing the flogged water out. Lights are out. Electricity snapped. No cable connection. Network connectivity is very poor. It has been 24 hours and much hasn't yet changed. Trees and posts have been uprooted, roads are blocked, a marginal difference exists between the before and after photos of iconic places in Kolkata, a complete destruction has ensued.We are in a very sorry state and yet very fortunate.
In the time we were thinking of ways to clean our houses or trying to call our local electricity provider, people have lost their lives, mothers have lost children, children have lost their parents, men and women have lost their livelihood, crops have been damaged. I can estimate the expression on the face of a reader, who might have been a victim like me or like us but then what about the double disaster? They were already without food and shelter. They have already lost all other ways of earning. The only thing they depended upon was production, production of raw materials that have ultimately served our stomachs. They now have lost their last ray of hope. They no longer beg for mercy. They beg for death.
