Sunday, June 12, 2005

6 Months Later

i drove from chennai to mahabalipuram in may. for those who haven't been on it, its a beautiful stretch of road along the south indian coastline. just look to your left and you see the beach lazily stretching out into the calm ocean.
the same ocean that erupted last december. as i stared at it as far as i could: just some small waves breaking onto the sandy shore. clean sandy shore. i whiz past a swank looking beach resort. 'nice new coat of paint', i think. 'funny, itsnt tourist season yet' . a minute later i see a huge signboard saying "sunshine beach resort". a 4 foot compound wall. a sick feeling hits the bottom of my stomach as i realise that the compound wall is all thats left of the resort. the other resort i passed by earlier must have been reconstructed/repaired. i'm dazed as i pass by more compound walls.. some old, some newly constructed. names written on some of them, proclaiming who their owner is. on one such wall, "pothuraman" has been crossed out in favour of a "a.selvaraj" in a larger font size: feud. a toddy shop has new asbestos sheets for a roof, and a newly painted signboard. then there are the rehabilitation centers. thatched, single room huts. closely uniformly laid out like lego blocks. right on the beach. right on the beach? the same people probably lived here before. 'why dont they go live somewhere else' , i think. i know. the beach's been their home and means of livelihood forever. so they stay. people stay.
the fear of the unknown is greater than the fear of the unpredictable. or it is the indomitable thing called human spirit that wills one to rise up to a crisis. whatever the reason, people stay. a huge signboard stands erect at a corner, proudly announcing the sponsors of that rehab center. publicity stunt. although i suppose, it does act as an address of sorts. photographs of politicians with boats and fishing nets. earning votes. celebrities doing their bit. i pass by 4 such centers, and they all look the same, save the signboards and the pictures on them. i see colourful sarees fluttering in the breeze, hung to dry on the billboards. very useful. i see a man walking towards the shore. i look at him and a hundred questions run through my mind. is his family still intact? has his grief subsided? has be watched a movie in 6 months? is he angry, bitter, or grieving for what he has lost? or is he thankful that he has survived. fact remains, he has survived, and from the looks of it, life goes on. thats the stark truth and irony of it all.
life goes on.