28 Days Before and After Cyclone Ockhi

It was a dull November morning; the sky was grey and so was the sea. I was walking along the east coast letting the rough waters kiss my feet; all the boats were in, it was the time of cyclones on the Bay of Bengal and fishing here was not an option this month. I had to find an alternative to fend for my family. A family that depended solely on the oceans, for survival on these lands.

As I walked away from the waters my phone rang, it was Jerry, an old friend. He too was walking on the same shores, along the tip of the same coast; he was calling from Kanyakumari. "Come join us this month, we are heading on the Arabian sea with two boats on the bigger one, expecting a hansom catch", he sounded confident and convincing.

As soon as I reached home I began packing, just then Srinivasan entered, "where are you heading to?" he demanded, "Kanyakumari or the Karnataka coast?"

"Kanyakumari" I shouted back, "Jerry called, I'm leaving in an hour or two."

"Excellent! I'll be at your door step with my bag in 10 mins" and out went he.

We took the afternoon bus to Kanyakumari and reached the next evening. Srinivasan and I were welcomed with great hospitality, a heavy dinner, and old friendships that only grew stronger with age.

Jerry was getting all geared up for the voyage, it was going to be 28 days on sea with a crew of 15 strong men, jerry, Srinivasan and I excluded. The boat was 55 x 10 metres in size, loaded with necessary supplies and two smaller engine boats that would be used for the main fishing.

We were on sea before the sun was out, Srinivasan and I were handling the nets, Jerry was on the wheel and the others busy too. It had been a while since I had set sail. The waters were welcoming me back into their territory with strength and valour.

Eighteen days went past by with jolly good weather, a jolly good catch and eighteen strong men. Ten more days went by, but they were slow, the catch kept reducing, our food supply diminishing and we were almost out of drinking water; all eighteen of us were feeling the need to turn back. The 29th of November was when we felt this the most. The sky turned grey mid-afternoon and the sea began to do so too. Jerry was on the wheel and I could say from the look on his face that something was coming. The sea was being thrown at us by the wind. So strong was its force that a 35 kg oil can was kicked out of its place. It was thrown into the ocean across the boat, oil thicker than blood, now that I think of it, I thank god that no one was in its way. This power was new to me but what came next was unimaginable catastrophe.

The winds grew stronger and angrier, we were constantly being lashed by the tides and then it hit us! The most ferocious cyclone I had ever experienced, Cyclone Ockhi.

We were eighteen, 18 strong men at the mercy of nature's rage, there were others too just like us, on neighboring boats who had come to exploit the sea, but some of them had been taken already; we realized this when a nightmare sight came alive, bodies floating on the devouring waves, I know not the number for we couldn't tell one apart from another, their skins were scaled out by the sharp wind, the bodies were naked and white. I strongly felt the sight was a foreshadow of our faith.

The boat was falling prey to the ocean, one of the smaller boats we were carrying was swallowed in recklessly. We had to get rid of the second one ourselves to save us the risk of internal damage. I along with seven others made our way to the ropes and started cutting them loose. We drowned the boat as if performing a sacrifice to mother Kali. She took in the sacrifice but it seemed like we had just let her taste our fear and she was hungry for more.

Time and tides wait for none, it was night and the darkness only added to the horror, we were all in the wheelis behind the wheel, I thanked god for the strength and talent of the two people on the wheel, their capabailities were being put to test every second of the hour. The rest of us were not even able to lift our heads up anymore. We all stayed together with not a sip to drink or a crumb to swallow. We were on the wireless trying to get in contact with the navy for help.

After hours we got them online, this gave us a speck of hope, not to live through the calamity but at least that our boat could be tracked down and our bodies returned to our families.

According to our watches it was morning, but there was no Sun to tell night apart from day, no horizon to tell the way and finally no hope left in me of living through the day. My throat was parched, the emptiness in my stomach was getting to my head, my body was becoming numb, the only thing that kept me alive was the company I had. It was as if we were sharing the pain and suffering of each other's sins but reluctant of letting anyone slip away. That day we couldn't tell if the wind and the waters were waging war against each other or against humanity. I felt we was being strangled weapon less in the midst of war between natures two gentlest members that had turned dark and violent in grief. Wind and water, I have seen these two powers, like siblings that collide against each other, carry each other and love each other; but that day I saw them wanting to prove oneself superior over the other, mercilessly, and at the cost of anything and everything.

My mind was drowning already, into the darkness that convinced me of my final destiny. There is not another adjective I could use to describe the fury of Ocki. The waves conquered and reconquered the boats at its mercy, water kept flooding the boat and retreating out like a huge serpent time and again. Its hiss was spine chilling and kept growing louder, occasionally getting deafened by the roaring wind.

Time and tides wait for none. It was around 5 pm when things started to take a turn, the winds seemed to breathe a little slower as if panting for breath after a lost run, and we decided to take a turn too, the wheel was being turned with great urgency towards Kanyakumari but the cyclone was not done with us yet, as soon as we had planned escape, Ockhi clawed us back in and swung us 60 kms into sea, we knew no way round after this. The wheel was being turned again but to no avail. This time we could see a bit of the Sun trying to reach us from behind the heavy curtained skies. But time and tides wait for none and it was night once again. The dark enveloped our fears, hunger was beyond just a physical feeling. I chose death over suffering, but its never an easy way out and that night I could feel my stomach stating to eat itself. How I prayed for death that day.

When I opened my eyes there was an orange sky, I thought I was dreaming, with a lot of effoert I stood up...... what a relief ! the boat was heading towards a piece of land. The others stood up one by one and light shown upon them too.

Kavarasi island, Lakshwadeep, that's where the boat took us. Seven by 3 kilometres was the size of the island. Four boats including ours had made it to its safe shores. 98 survivors we were in total. The residents took responsibility of our health and sheltered us for seven days. On the eighth day at 3 pm we took leave on the same boat. We ere headed to Kochin.

Those 2 days on the sea was peace and tranquillity, but that didn't mean we had forgotten its power and rage. Ockhi had taken 245 lives, she had spared us and the only thing I could think of was the number of familys that needed aid and solace. Money or any kind of material aid was not going to be able to make repairs.

Srinvasan and I left Kochin the next day and returned to Pondicherry.

It has been a month since the Ockhi cyclone, but even today those white naked bodies haunt me, I could have been one of them.