The Night of Death | Part – 2

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My father stared at the man in disbelief.

“What do you mean she’s still there? Why didn’t you bring her out?”

The man’s voice cracked.

“Sahib… the water rushed in so fast. The house is half submerged. Only the loft remains above water. We ran for our lives. Only later did we realize she wasn’t with us. She was asleep upstairs with her baby.”

“But why didn’t you go back for her?” my father asked sharply.

“Sahib, no one is ready to help.” the man pleaded. Half the house is underwater; only the upper loft is left. The floodwater rushed into the house so fast that we all ran out in a panic. When we reached a safe place, we realized that my younger sister wasn’t with us. She had gone upstairs last night to sleep with her baby and was sleeping there.

“But couldn’t you have gone back to bring her out afterward?”

“No, sir. The water around the house has risen to our necks, and neither I nor anyone in the family has the courage to go into it. Sir, please help to save the girl and the child.”

My father’s anger flared.

“How could you leave your own sister behind in the flood and came away? “How can we save her? Did you inform the police?”

“Sir, there’s no sign of the police anywhere. We’ve begged everyone around, but no one is willing to help,” he said. The family was new to the village. The eldest son was a doctor, and they had only recently opened a clinic there.

Before the argument could escalate further, my closest friend Madhu arrived at our house to warn us about the flood. He heard everything and stood frozen, unsure what to say.

“Madhu,” my father said, “see if you can find someone from your neighborhood, who can swim.”

Madhu shook his head helplessly.

“ Anna.. No one will come. No one will enter that water.”

The man folded his hands desperately.

“Sahib, please do something quickly. If we delay, she and the baby won’t survive. Sahib, can you send your son for help?” He spoke.

An uneasy silence followed.

“What…? How is that even possible?” Father snapped. “How can I risk my son’s life? You abandon your sister and expect others to risk their lives.”

Father was irritated—because that man, without risking his own or his family’s life, was ready to risk someone else’s. I hadn’t spoken a word in the conversation between the elders so far, but once Madhu was asked for his opinion, Then, without fully understanding where the courage came from, I spoke.

“Anna… should Madhu and I go and at least see what can be done?”

I was barely in my first year of college, eighteen or nineteen at most. Regular sports and exercise have given me a strong build, a tall frame. Perhaps that was why the man had placed his hope on me.

My father hesitated. Finally, reluctantly, he nodded.

“Go but be extremely careful. Madhu, keep an eye on him.”

My mother immediately protested.

“Why send him? He’s our only son. What if something happens? Tell someone else to go.”

“I won’t get into the water,” I reassured her, though I wasn’t sure myself.

“I’ll just see if there’s any help available. Don’t worry…!!.”

The rain seemed to have eased a little by then. But once we stepped outside, we realized the havoc it had created. Although the floodwater hadn’t reached our neighborhood yet, the damage was considerable. Most of the houses in the village had tile roofs, and the strong winds had blown off many of the tiles; some houses had lost their metal sheets as well. Coconut, betel-nut, and mango trees had been uprooted and lay scattered across the roads and courtyards. We wove our way through fallen trees as we walked.

When we reached the house, the sight froze our blood.

It was a single-story structure, and half of it was submerged in water. The road in front of the house was under nearly five feet of filthy, fast-moving water. There was a slight current, and household items were floating past in it. A large portion of the house was made of wood. The entrance door to the verandah was wide open, and the main inner door was also flung open. It looked as if the family had fled in sheer panic without even latching the door. Clearly, the floodwater had given them no time. In that frantic moment, they had forgotten about their sister sleeping upstairs with her baby.

The verandah had wooden planks fitted across it, and from the verandah, The wooden staircase leading to the loft was half submerged. On the upper floor’s small platform, there, standing in the balcony above, clutching her baby, was the woman—crying, screaming for help.

All the houses in the area were half submerged. Drains and gutters had merged into one invisible death trap. People stood at a distance, helpless, watching.

In that entire neighborhood, the only person trapped inside a house was the daughter of that family head and her baby.

As soon as she saw us, the woman began calling out to her brother.

“Dada, get me out quickly! This house is going to collapse—please get me out!” she kept shouting.

The distance between the house and where we stood was roughly hundred feet, and that entire stretch was under water. The road in front of the house was completely submerged. The roadside drains and gutters had merged with the floodwater, so there was no telling where the ditch was, where the drain was, and where the road was. Because of this, no one dared to help the woman.

By then, the rain had started again. The water level could rise further, and in such a situation, there was no guarantee how long that woman could hold on.

Only about three feet of space remained between the water level and the beam above the house’s verandah entrance. Half of the staircase leading to the upper floor was underwater up to that same level.

We asked few people if anyone could arrange a boat, but most of the boats in the fisherman’s colony had been washed away, and the remaining ones were being used to rescue people trapped in that area. We also tried asking around to find someone who could swim and might be willing to help rescue the woman and her baby—but no one was ready to get into that water.

“Who in their right mind will step into that water now? Doesn’t everyone value their life?”

People said, gesturing toward her brother.

“This man ran to save himself, leaving his sister and her baby behind, and now he himself won’t step back into the water. He wants to save his own life but risk someone else’s. Incredible!”

Everyone was angry with the woman’s brother.

The woman was beginning to lose her nerve. Her crying wouldn’t stop, and now her baby had also started crying. Her elder brother kept pleading with people for help, yet he himself wouldn’t step into the water. This surprised both Madhu and me.

Time was slipping through our fingers.

I glanced again at the flowing water. There was a noticeable current, with many objects drifting along. From that, one could gauge its strength. After thinking for a moment, I looked at everyone and told Madhu:

“Should I go?”

“But you can’t swim!” What if something happened…?” he whispered in horror.

I told him, “I’ll try.”

Fear of water had haunted me since childhood. Maybe because of that I had stayed away from swimming. And now, in this flooded, uncertain terrain—with roads, drains, and gutters all submerged, and no idea how deep the water was—I had no idea where I found the courage to step in. As I entered the water, I prayed to Lord Jesus Christ and asked for help.

I stepped into the flood with nothing to hold on to. The icy coldness ran up my whole body in a shiver. Unable to judge the depth, I moved slowly, feeling my way forward with cautious steps. There was no support, no certainty, only faith. The woman stopped crying the moment she saw me entering the water, and she looked at me with desperate hope.

The rain began to intensify. Water pushing in from one side kept throwing me off balance; it was extremely difficult to steady myself. I wiped the rainwater dripping onto my face and continued inching ahead. In truth, I should have been walking faster, because if the water level and current increase, entrance to the house could get completely blocked. But the current and the invisible road beneath prevented me from moving any quicker.

I had now reached the middle of the stream. I focused entirely on the entrance of the house. I estimated that the road passed directly in front of it; I assumed I was standing in the middle of that road. But if there was a drain or gutter between the road and the house, I had no way of knowing. The water was chest-deep now, and every time I lifted my foot to walk, my body felt weightless and unstable threatening to lift me off my feet.

Bracing myself against the force of the current, I kept going. Pieces of wood, tins, and various objects floated past. My feet slipped often on the ground below.

It must have taken me twenty to twenty-five minutes to reach the verandah entrance. The water there was still chest deep. From the doorway, I could see the entire front room underwater—the TV, cupboards, bed—everything was submerged.

Turning to the right, I began to climb the half-submerged wooden staircase, and my foot slipped on the very first step.