The days after

Ahmedabad, considered one of the fastest developing cities, has lost its spirit. There is nothing to palliate the sorrow of people who have lost all they possessed. Parents are crying for children they laughed and played with and children are dreading a life without hands that provided selfless guidance. A painful narration of the fateful morning of January 26 is all they have as memories. Everything seems to have clouded their senses. Their beliefs. Their wishes.

A two-year-old is seen crying for a mother’s loving hand and then there’s a mother who has managed to escape unhurt but lost her three children who couldn’t manage to rush out of their house with equal speed. A retired army officer out for a morning walk knew nothing about the tragedy that struck his son, daughter-in-law and their five-month-old baby. A disfigured woman sits on the hospital bed with no knowledge of what remains of her house in Bhuj where her parents stay. All she does is cry.

These are but a few of those thousands who have lost someone dear. Their lives stand precariously poised, and there is nothing to console them. I had never known such excruciating pain. Neither did I know tears were capable of flowing for days together.

The dreadful quake has shown us a lot. It has aged us at a surprising speed. Neverending bouts of pain, fearfulness and total submission to fate. These are what we have now. The hospitals are overflowing with frantic people scared of losing those loved ones who have barely managed to be wrenched out alive. Death has robbed many of their faith. Their love and their life. It is only tears that tread fearlessly. They know no boundaries. Happy or sad, they keep their flow constant.

There’s someone who has managed to find a loved one alive and there’s somebody who will never have that reassurance. The worst of all is the lingering uncertainty. Of life and death. What keeps coming to mind is triviality. Triviality of life, of man, of money, of power. Indeed, Nature is the supreme leveller. In time of catastrophe, we have neither a say in our lives, nor our existence. The Lord countenances no distinction. Everyone is equal. I, too, have reconciled myself to fate. What has to be will be. We are mere puppets without any control over the leftover threads of our lives. We go where He takes us. We accept what He gives us. We welcome the smiles He bestows, we frown at the sorrows He metes out.

But being only too human, we also feel like questioning Him. But He is not to be seen. And yet He is all around. There are a thousand questions we seek answers to. But there’s nothing to console us. There are doubts and there are fears. There are questions needling at every step.