The #Earthquake tragedy

The morning was fresh. Mild dew drops covered the window panes. Two sparrows sat on the edge of the stone tablet which lay idly for more than a decade now at the edge of the pond near our house. They constantly chirped only to disturb the serene and cold January winter. I could hear a sound from a not too distant playground from our house. A series of footsteps paraded the ground following the instructor’s strict round. I looked at the calendar peeping from the mosquito net with heavily closed eyes. 26^th January, 2001. The early morning sunrays played hide-and-seek through the partially closed window. I stretched my hands and yawned, cuddled with the pillow and appreciated the beauty of the dawn.  

I eagerly waited for the DD broadcast of the Republic Day parade to be telecasted. As I took the remote, I felt a mild tremor. My attention went to the half-filled water bottle that was kept above the table. The uniformity of the horizontal water level inside the bottle changed. Tiny ripples formed. The gentle movement was now replaced by an aggressive one. Not able to withstand further, it finally gave away to the pull of the nature and fell over the floor spilling water. I suddenly heard the sound of conches outside, blown by the lady folks trying to please the God to relieve us from this natural calamity as soon as possible. “It’s earthquake.” A shriek came from my mother urging me to come out of the house as soon as possible. There was panic and jittery everywhere. Kids were frightened and shocked to see this strange phenomenon of Mother Earth (as they read in their geography books); some of them on the other hand were really curious. They stood in silence and tried to feel the tremor as they closely observed the reaction of others.

As the ladies continued to fill in their breath inside the conches, the men folk were busy evacuating, inspecting the neighbour’s house and the other adjacent areas to find out any casualty. I went near the pond; the tablet that lay idly now floated on the water in a way as if a paper boat was released by a kid on a rainy day. The water hyacinths on the surface made to and fro movements. After two minutes, there was utter calmness. The quake shrunk slowly, thus bringing a respite. Perhaps, the sound of the conches reached the ears of the Gods and convinced them.

Numbness followed thereafter. Everyone looked around to pacify themselves that the bad times are gone. No, it was not over yet. A cloak of sadness prevailed somewhere. I could hear cries of a mother followed by a loud moan of a father. Their child was killed under the thatched roof of the house as it collapsed. She looked up at the sky, raised her hands, blamed the almighty for this mayhem and for this moment of despair.

Was it her fault that she lost her little ones or was his untime departure destined. If it was destined, then why????????