It Is Monsoon Again..

The constant calls of the cuckoos, stirred me up from sleep. It was still dark. The air was moist after the heavy downpour. South-west monsoon had made her way into our mangled, ransacked valley.

It was my second day of school, after the long summer break. I was elated to go back, since I had to cross an entire stretch of Western Ghats Mountain range, every day. As I crossed, my soul glided away into the different unknown, endless corners of the dense shrub forests of Anaikatty.

After a long and tiring school day, the bell finally rang. It was 4pm. The government bus usually arrives by 4:10, so I had to rush. To my pleasant surprise, my mom was waiting outside to pick me up in her bike. We started heading home. The cold, moist air made me shiver as our bike made her way into the woods. I closed my eyes. Everything went blank.

But this time, the constant sirens of an ambulance, stirred me up from my unconscious state. I could taste blood. I wanted to scream out the excruciating pain, but only air came out of my blood-filled mouth. I felt as if my left leg was cut into two pieces, from my thigh. Every bump on the road felt like a horrific nightmare. As soon as I reached the hospital, I heard beep sounds, waves indicating my heartbeat, a ventilator helping me to breath, surrounded by a swarm of doctors and nurses. I felt as if I was in a movie scene. I had fractures all over my body. I was bleeding from my eyes, nose, ears and mouth.  I lost my consciousness. The soul which glided-away into the different endless-corners of the dense forest, has now been mangled into an unknown-figure, that I never knew.

I spent countless days in the ICU, trying to fathom this mangled unknown-figure. I was told that, we were hit by three drunk homo-sapiens and my mom left us all on the spot. I refused to believe.

Alone, I cried everyday. Seven months passed by; my eyes searched for-her everyday. She was nowhere to be found, except for her lifeless picture on our wall. As she smiled back at me, lifeless, my lips started to quiver, I said to myself;

“My lips cannot speak how much I loved you,

 My mind slowly starts forgetting the way I used to call you,

 But my heart knows how much I miss you,

 In our home that is lonely today”.

As the lifeless smile, I turned sixteen. The pandemic started to roll on, I was left-alone to suffer PTSD.

As I gazed outside my window, clouds started passing over the ever present Lambton’s peak. It was Monsoon again. Like these clouds, twelve years of schooling has blown over me. Like the peak, I sit gazing over the ransacked Valley, through which I used to travel everyday. I ask myself “What is the purpose of my life?”

Soon, I keep hearing the muffled calls from the ailing valley in the depth of the lengthy nights. Thus, my conversation with her streams began.

“Its raining for the fourth day. The warm land has cooled down. There is joy everywhere.

Like me, you remain broken for the past many years. The brick-kiln owners have frantically dug you up, as the drunk homo-sapiens drove on us. The places of your injuries, hold the flowing water for a long time, to quench their burning pain. The flow has stopped in many places. Bay of Bengal and many wounded sites downstream are moaning to receive your flow.

This rain has evoked a sigh of joy and melancholy in you and all us life forms.

Deep inside me rises a despair of hopelessness and I weep. As the tears flow, there is a sheet lightning, in the night horizon. The downpour becomes heavy. It’s getting colder once again and I shudder. I lift my hand to hug you.

Do not worry my dear,

WE SHALL OVERCOME”.

At this moment, I knew that my question was answered.­­