Deluge and delusion

It was the third day of incessant rains. Peeping through the first floor window of my grandparents' house, I could see that the river which flowed beyond the farmlands, begin to swell and its orange waters creep slowly beyond its banks towards our house. As we watched in increasing horror, the swirling torrent swallowed everything in its path, felling huge trees, drowning the deer, peacocks, rabbits and other small animals, gobbling up my aunt's entire garden with rare ornamental plants and beautiful flowers.                       In no time, all one could see was the vast expanse of muddied water, angrily thrashing against the steps of our house.My uncle, in all solemnity, declared that the water will rise one stair per hour and we laughed at his prediction. But three hours and three stairs later, the flood had entered our house.                                                            With water seeping into the mud-walled house, the earthing of which was faulty, we started experiencing electric shocks. Though the elders were earlier confident that the rain would stop at anytime and the flood would recede, they too lost their hope as the courtyard and the lower verandah got submerged.                                               As the front wall of the house collapsed, we ran inside in panic. I sneaked to the first floor window to take in the fury of nature against us mortals when my mom angrily ordered me to come down lest the floor collapsed. Nothing remained including a lovely lake which had as its wreath numerous rose bushes and hibiscus plants.                          With all other routes to safety cut off, we had one choice -- to climb the hillock that lay just behind our house. As twilight approached, we had to decide if we were going to spend the night in the house which may collapse on us anytime or stay at the old Shiva temple in the midst of the dense forest atop the hillock which was open to elements. It was then that our saviours arrived. They were the labourers who worked in our fields and worried by the terrible storm, had come to check on us.                          About 20 years later, I remember trudging through the woods in the rains to their thatched hut several miles inside the forest and getting a warm welcome. We kids slept on the clean, dung-washed floor of the single room that was their hut while the elders sat through the cold and cruel night.                                                                                           Most parts of our house had collapsed by the next morning.Years later, I remember not just the flood which cornered us but also the humanity of that family which provided us a sanctuary against the wild and angry nature -- a compassion where the delusions of caste, creed and wealth no longer mattered.