Survival of the Luckiest Fittest

Claim: The three stories are mere recollections without a figment of imagination but for the names.

Sparkling, thundering, swaying, enormous waves breaking on the beaches and splashing mist generously on the sands and everything else on the sands is a sight to behold, a moment to cherish, an invigorating experience, an incredible phenomenon, repeating day in and day out on the virgin shores of the picturesque islands of the Nicobar group. This particular Christmas, celebrations went on till late in the night and these waves merrily gorged on the cake and guzzled the wine served lavishly at the sea floor counter and swelled and swelled and swelled and started for the shores. It was dawn by the time they reached the islands amply intoxicated, failed to recognize the humble familiar sands, refused to break and furiously marched forward in search of their playgrounds like an unyielding bunch of kids. They raided houses, schools, offices, hills, farms, plantations, forests and streams and the earth trembled vigorously with fear and shame.

Those who eagerly await an opportunity for feeding and riding elephants know very well that elephants turn wild for a while and it is best not to meddle with them then. These waves were quicker, nastier, wilder than the wildest of elephants and their connoisseurs, who had not heard about these mood swings called as Tsunamis, were caught unawares. Some rushed out, donning handycams, to capture the magnificent waves. Well the admiration was mutual and the waves captured them too! Some others were guided by the basic instincts to run away, to climb up higher, to hide, to swim, to shut their eyes tight, they were also not spared by the brunt of mighty Tsunamis. Few others had luck and wit on their side and survived to narrate their unique tales of true heroism.

Mr Sahil's Bike

Mr Sahil was busy brushing teeth in his decent house by the beach. His pretty wife Neena was happily preparing the morning tea. Their lovely daughter Charu was sleeping peacefully and their naughty son Mohit was thinking of pretexts to convince his dad for a quick splash in the sea. Suddenly Mohit started yelling, "Daddy, look at the beautiful waves, Mumma, see the big, rolling waves, Charu, get up fast or you will miss out on the view of the century!"

Mr Sahil's face fell the instant he had a look at the sea and he screamed, "We have to rush to save our life, Mohit, get Charu out of the bed fast and get out of the house, Neena, get me the bike keys, we have to rush." Ms Sahil protested, "But how can I go out in my night clothes, let me change first." A portion of the earth cracked in front of their house noisily splattering slush all around. Mr Sahil snatched the key, dragged Neena out on to the bike, dumped Mohit and Charu on her and started racing away from the sea.

The waves were madly chasing the family of four huddled on an old bike being balanced with great effort on a shaky ground . Mohit, Charu and Ms Neena, all three were almost paralyzed by the sight of behemoth destruction behind them and by the shadow of death lurking painfully close by. After a chase of 10 minutes and 4 kilometers, the waves gave up and left Mr Sahil's family safe and dry at the beginning of a forest. All four breathed a sigh of relief and the very next instant Mr Sahil fell flat on the ground shocked by disbelief and death. He remained comatose for next three days before he was airlifted and revived in a Chennai hospital. The bike has been the family's deity since then.

Mr Navjot's Trees

Mr Navjot stayed with his old mother Ms Kaur, industrious wife Ms Simran and two very naughty sons Prabhjo and Harjo in an expansive house built in a levelled clearing of their coconut and pepper plantation by the roadside. The family shared an emotional bond with every single tree, they fondly nursed the trees and took great care of the plantation. Across the road, the ground was levelled for a helipad and beyond that was the roaring sea forming a beautiful mini bay. They saw the huge wall of water slowly approaching from a great distance and immediately started gathering golden ornaments hidden in the corners of their house. When the water thundered on the helipad, Mr Navjot ordered them to rush over to the nearby hillock. He collected the ornaments bag and started out to discover that his old and ailing mother was still inside the house. He shouted over to his wife and sons to continue running while he fetched his mother.

The first layer of dirt and water had wetted the floors. He dumped the heavy bag, lifted his mother on his back and started for the hillock and was soon wading through ankle deep waters. He continued till water reached his knees and the its force threatened to push him down. He stopped near a coconut tree, dropped her mother down, made her embrace the thin stem of the tree and tightly embraced his mother and the tree with his big strong arms and legs. They were now waist deep in water which threatened to loosen their grip every while. The water level was steadily increasing and when it was chest high, both of them said their final prayers. Mr Navjot's ribs cracked from the impact of lashing waves but he refused to let the tree go.

His family was helplessly watching them from the top of  the hillock, sobbing, praying and urging them to hold on. Water level touched their shoulders, declined to waist height, and rose back chest high. Once or twice, a small undulation crossed over their head for a quick second when little Harjo would scream, "It is a very small wave, you will survive it!" Water started receding after fifteen minutes and when it was knee high, Mr Navjot lifted his mother on his back once again and joined his family on the hillock. What an emotional reunion it was! They said in unison "Wahe guruji da khalsa, wahe guruji di fateh".

The next five days were even more harrowing as they found themselves without food and water. Prabhjo and Harjo would scale the dangerous heights of the trees for the coconut fruit. Ms Simran would painstakingly remove the husk with pieces of stones. Next, she would crack the shell and drain milk and scratch the flesh out of it. This family of five survived the catastrophe on this nourishing milk and flesh supplied by their dear trees. This continued till they were found by a group of rescuers and shifted to the base camp set up for the survivors.

Mr Chand's Charity

A bridge was built across the sea to connect two islands. It had been the talk of the town and held the same revered status for the islanders as the mythological Rama Sethu. People flocked the bridge which was considered a construction marvel though the stretch of sea was rather narrow. Mr Chand's small daughter Roopa and son Ravi had often heard about the beauty of the bridge and the sea from their friends in school. They were thoroughly upset that they could not contribute their views to the discussions on the bridge and regularly asked their parents to take them for its tour. The Sunday after Christmas was a good time and the family planned a trip to the bridge. Roopa and Ravi well publicized their impending tour far and wide.

The pleasant Thursday evening before Christmas brought an unwelcome visitor to Roopa's and Ravi's house. The town clerk had come over to ask Mr Chand for a sum of thousand rupees for his father's medicines. Both were aware that their dad was known for his generosity. They suspected that the clerk was asking money for his own booze party for the Christmas. They let their parents know of their suspicion very well and at one point, made them even believe it. Thousand rupees was the exact amount their mother, Ms Roshini had kept aside for the family's trip. Being the last week of the month, there was not much cash at home to offer to the clerk for this mediocre family. Every rupee was spent or saved with great planning to make them meet the ends.

Of course Ms Roshini wanted to give away the thousand rupees kept aside but the fallen faces of her children made her decide otherwise. The responsibility of resolving the dilemma was on Mr Chand's shoulders alone. He knew that the clerk was not a descendant of the Great HarishChandra. He knew very well that his children would be upset. But how could he refuse money asked for medicines. He had made a mental picture of the old man dying without medicines. He gave the money to clerk and he left their house heaping praises on the family. Roopa and Ravi cried their hearts out. They refused to touch food and ate it after a lot of pleading from their parents. They remained sullen for the next two days for their loss.

Early Sunday morning brought no change to their attitude. Suddenly, the ground started shaking vigorously and they fell on the ground. They were pulled out of the house by their parents with great difficulty. Those shaking sixty seconds were the longest and the worst seconds of their life. Aftershocks followed almost every hour afterwards. They had forgotten about the bridge and the fact that their postponed trip was originally planned for this day. News of the death of over hundred spectators on the bridge reached them in the evening. The bridge had swung to and forth and thrown people off into the swelling sea filled with crocodiles below. Finally it had snapped into two from the middle and one part of it sunk by a metre. The two arms of the bridge appeared to them as two humongous knives stabbing unsuspecting lives. They hugged their parents and wept inconsolably.