Amphan-Kolkata-Trees-Uprooted

Super-Cyclone Amphan’s Trail of Destruction: Despatch from Kolkata

Our housing society was a battlefield that day. Our beloved Hercules was up against the fire-breathing Cacus. As per the legend Hercules was supposed to emerge victorious. He had stood the test of time; had been there since our birth, deeply rooted. Every morning his residents would sing beautiful songs to wake us up. He was our saviour, our friend, someone who never asked anything in return for his services. He was our hero in every sense!

Suddenly, the window panes crashed against something hard. Shattered glass was all over the floor. One branch of our beloved ‘Neem gaach’ (Neem tree) had smashed into our living room window. It was an ominous sign. To our horror, the giant tree lay uprooted. Cacus had won this time. Only that it was called – AMPHAN! Imagine an old family member, someone whom you have seen every day of your life since your birth passes away one day, all of a sudden, due to a fatal accident. We felt the same when our beloved Hercules lay felled as good (or bad) as dead!

Amphan unleashed its terror in the City of Joy that ill-fated afternoon. The city was already reeling under the pressure of rising COVID-19 cases, Amphan added to the ordeal. The super cyclone was slated to arrive in the afternoon and it did with precision. Thundering winds with rising speeds multiplied the uneasiness, every passing second. We were constantly checking our phones for live updates on the wind speed. The winds soon crossed the century mark, and another half century in a jiffy. By five in the evening the cyclone was at its harshest, taking away anything and everything that blocked its path. One could only hear (didn’t have the audacity to slide the windows and see) glass panes smashing here and there, trees being wrecked and temporary roofs flying like gigantic kites. Let alone a person like me in his early thirties, it was something unseen even by the older generations. Those few hours felt like a live terror attack with guns and explosives blazing outside and we, the common people hiding in our shelters praying for all of it to end.

There is an age-old tradition in Bengal where people blow conches and recite verses praising Goddess Kali in times of deep trouble. There is a strong belief that the Divine Mother will protect her children. That evening was no different. A series of conches blew and Women from every household produced the sacred ‘Ululudhvani’ as if asking the Goddess for mercy. Call it the power of prayer, the Super cyclone diminished into a thunderstorm by eight in the evening and into a nagging drizzle late into the night. We thought it was the end of the battle. However, it was just the beginning, there was more to come!

At around 10pm the power went off. We switched on our mobile phone lights to find the mobile network gone as well. So, we were there disconnected from the rest of the world plunged into darkness. That night we could sleep quite peacefully; the weather was cool and the wind had turned into a breeze. When the power did not restore in the morning, was when the real trouble started. With no power overnight, the water tank was empty. Rest need not be explained! Carrying heavy buckets of water from a community tube-well to the fourth floor of the building with no lift was a pain. Even more annoying was to stand in the long queues there maintaining social distancing. A few people made a business out of this as well. They filled the 20 litres mineral water jars with the underground water and started selling them at Rs. 100 (yes you read it right!) apiece. The days after a cyclone are generally hot and humid and this one was no different. It was a penance to sit in the hot tandoor that our apartment had become by the afternoon. With no retrieve in sight people were cursing their stars! The troubles compounded in the night. People shifted their base to the terrace for some respite and it did work. The mosquitoes had a feast that night; gallons of human blood at their disposal!  

The story went on for almost a week. There was hardly any cash left. The entire contingency cash usually kept aside by every family for such times was about to finish. There was no network for online payments and the cash machines (ATMs) were all out of order. However there was no problem in managing essentials as the local shop owners and vegetable vendors were co-operative. I realised the futility of online shopping and delivery apps that day. In times of trouble, the local shopkeeper and sabjiwallah comes to your rescue. The system was exposed like never before. It seemed the government did not care for its citizens or perhaps it cared but was just not capable enough to deal with the crisis. The electric supply company stopped responding to calls after giving umpteen false hopes. Every morning someone would say the power would be restored by the evening and in the evening, the next evening! Amidst all this we were unaware of the situation outside our housing society. Firstly, there was no Power so all modes of communication were long gone. Secondly, the lockdown; one could not look beyond the boundaries of one’s own home! Finally, after the combined effort of the people the power was restored on the ninth day. We breathed easy. The mobile network was still elusive, but the thought of running water in taps itself was a reliever!

After another two days the mobile and Television were buzzing again. It was then, that we realized the actual impact of Amphan. The plight of the Sunderbans dwarfed our troubles. The videos and images of people dying of hunger and diseases pricked our hearts. The number of destitute rose day by day. We learnt that The Honourable Prime Minister had visited Bengal and promised a hefty relief package as well. Many social organisations are working with the government to help the affected. Here I want to mention my friend Dr. Deb. He along with his team of volunteers visited coastal villages and areas around Sunderbans. They organised many relief camps distributing food, medicines and other essentials to the people. He is not alone in this venture. Many NGOs and other philanthropists have come forward in this time of calamity. The government is also working on rehabilitating the homeless and providing the relief. The pace is slow, given the pandemic engulfing the entire world right now!

Now after almost three weeks life is limping back to normal. However, Amphan has shown us some harsh realities of life, which we often tend to ignore. The only certainty about life is that it is uncertain. One moment you are building castles of happiness; the next moment a wave grief sweeps away all the sand. In the era of technology and automation, one should not forget the humane touch. We should remember technology is secondary, humanity is supreme!

Cover Image – A tree uprooted during heavy rain infront Tipu Sultan Masjid after the landfall of super cyclone ‘Amphan’, in Kolkata (Photo Credit: PTI)

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