From Destruction To Bringing Hope By The Traveller- Amphan

As I wonder about the awe-struck trauma that we all witnessed collectively in form of the cyclone Amphan on 20^th May 2020 in Kolkata, my feet trembles by an unknown pain. I get jitters and palpitations as I hear abrupt cries over the broken telephonic cords. My heart beats with great amplitude as I feel the dampen faces soaked in tears, the broken houses that wait to be released from the puzzle and the fallen tries that shed threads of helplessness. I journey like an adolescent who is mesmerized by her imaginary audience, still dwelling in denial and mourning unconsciously in silence. How can this happen to my family? ‘We can never face calamity as we are in a city’- unresolved conflicts keep revolving in my head and it evaporates with tiny eye droplets in my sleep that feels like a nightmare. Apprehensive about the future I wake up with volcanic jolts that slowly rushes through my veins and progresses towards my hands. I lose my movements and sit unemotional staring at the television screen that flashes news of destruction and calamity. I visualize humans bending towards the poles that was lit by electric shocks, children floating in water and pages of books submerged on the grounds. Everything feels dizzy and absorbed in agony and trauma. Idols preserved for the Durga Festival melts itself and blends with the waters that brought rage and darkness. This period of lockdown has taught me that we are all existing in an illusion called ‘world’ that blinds us with materialistic expectations. After a one-night assumption of parental loss due to the disruption of communication networks and a complete city blackout I receive calls of assurance and hope from my ailing parents. I get informed about this mighty nature’s swing that flew away our kitchen roof that symbolized my mother’s existence, the windows through which I grandfather used to wait for years in hope of seeing us during holidays has been smashed and put to pieces, the ancestral doors that marked our family traditions taken away to voice out historical past to another land and the garden that bore fruits of life diluted to mere ashes of death. There are those who collected treasure’s for livelihood and in seconds everything was swayed away by the overwhelming winds of aggression.

Time will take its own form in healing the city that was once named as ‘the city of joy’. The great Victoria Memorial greeted the tourists with open arms, the College Street gave wisdom and pride and the oldest Calcutta University that build our freedom to think, has all been rejuvenated by these wrecks of Amphan. Kolkata has lost itself and is broken into pieces but it has not lost her spirit. She will bounce back and offer prayers this Eid, welcome her daughter Durga this year and she will still glitter herself up with the Christmas lights. The place would redefine its charm and overcome these horrifying dilemmas. As I scroll through the pictures reflecting the outcomes of this calamity I see hungry children collecting fruits that were fallen by the winds, fisherman who lost their houses guiding comrades in finding ways of coping, a widow who lost her fields stands by with her grandchildren to feed the photographer. Likewise, its truly evident that most of our life’s learning comes from real life heroes and not in classrooms and expensive mansions. As a community, this is the time to come together and hold each other’s hands during failures to mark success. With all these, there is a life waiting to be explored that is unpredictable and adventurous and we are all here mere travellers like the Amphan.