The rain poured seamlessly like a flowing river with squishing noise. The thickly brownish mud water had filled the Marudur streets and its tiny Bazar. Most of its landscape, especially the central part of the village, was flat unlike other parts of the hill country. So the water level was unlikely to drain rapidly. The Bazar looked like a lake, as the water remained still while it was still raining.
No one thought it was going to flood when it started raining. First, the water entered the Thajudeen tea store. Then, it slowly moved into other small shops and the nearby Thayqa mosque.
The panic started soon after the line of houses started getting flooded. It did not take long for the flood to enter the Fridows garden. Within a split of a second, the water entered the tiny pigeon-cage like houses and started destroying their possessions, like a furious mob.
Floods have become a regular phenomenon in this country for the last few years, thanks to global warming and our irresponsible behaviour.
Marudur was largely untouched by these disasters for all these times. During the times of bitter civil war and when the Tsunami waves brutally attacked our coastal borders, Marudur remained peaceful and safe as if nothing happened. It was no wonder people were unprepared for this disaster.
Noone was able to do anything, except shouting and screaming.
Firdaws garden is a desperate slum-like area in Marudur. Houses were so close to each other. There was no time for helping each other as the water current was moving at a swift pace.
There was no option, except to evacuate the area with their most valuable things. Many people started moving to Firdaws stadium, the cricket ground. It was situated on a highland, out of reach of floodwater.
Electrical engineer Rashadh left the house with his age-old mother and his valuable books in his hand. Regrettably, He could not save his research projects or other valuable electrical items he was using for his research.
“Wait… let’s everyone go to school. We don’t know how long it will take for this rain to stop. We can’t be in the rain for so long”, Rashad shouted to others.
* * *
Sunday evening. It was heavily raining.
Hamzi and Shakira were not home. Our principal was taking a rest at his house. After a long battle with his cousin Mohideen, he eventually won. Mohideen Hajiyar was disgraced and lost his face. Soon he left the village.
The new leader, Japan Hajiyar, will soon be in the principal’s pocket. He was not skilful. In fact, he was uneducated.
The principal’s father and grandfather were the leaders of this land for almost three-quarters of a century. Naturally, the principal should be the next one in the line. But, the leadership slipped his hand to others, for some reason, after his father. He had to wait for almost two decades to regain it.
Now his twenty years of the dream was at the length of his arms. He had to make a final move to make a final check-mate. He had to go through a tiresome fight to create this opportunity. He had thought several times to quit this battle. If not for Mr Shareek, this would not have been possible.
The principal had a long deep sleep as it was heavily raining outside. The weather was cold, suitable for a lazy sleep tightly covered under a thick blanket. He slept peacefully after several months. His mobile was switched off. Suddenly, there were knocks on the front door and many voices were shouting. He woke up startled. He thought he was in the middle of a scary dream. Then, he realized the knock was real.
“Flood… people are here to stay in the school”, his wife said apprehensively.
“Quickly open the gate. There are kids and old people soaking in the rain” the principal could hear Rashad’s voice from outside, shouting angrily.
The principal got furious. ‘How could he shout this way?’. The principal angrily came outside the house.
“What’s going on? Why are you all shouting this way?”
“It’s flooding in Firdaws garden. All the houses drowned. People have to stay in the school until the rain stops”.
The principal was still angry. He could not control what he was saying. He was used to giving orders to other people. He rarely gets orders from others.
“Staying in school? That's unthinkable".
“There are kids, elders and patients. Please, hurry up. Open quickly”.
Pride makes people blind. That’s what happened that day to the principal. He did not realize how many enemies he was making on that very second. He irrationally thought giving permission to enter the school premises was his prestige issue.
“Flood won’t last long. You can’t enter the premises as you wish. There are several procedures”.
Rashad got furious but kept himself calm. “We can’t think of procedures in this emergency. Please, quickly open it”.
“I said once. There won’t be any change in my decision”.
“Come on, we have no time to play with you. Will you open it or not?” Rashad demanded. The respect in his tone had completely vanished now.
The principal felt disgraced. There were hundreds of people around. He shouted back at Rashad “can’t you understand if I said once, you son of …?”
There was a bit of silence in the crowd. Cursing the parents of a person is a very serious thing in our culture. Rashad kept silent. His mother was standing next to him.
A man in his sixties said furiously, “Son Rashad, if you ask permission from the chicken for grinding turmeric, it will never work out. Let’s break the fence and get inside”.
The premises did not have strong fences. Mostly it had small ‘Albizia’ trees and croton plants. The man broke the fence and got into the premises. Everyone followed.
None bothered about the principal afterwards. He remained disgraceful. He could call the police now. But, he remained silent. He realized he committed a grave mistake that could have tremendous consequences in his social life and in his dreams. But, it was too late now. He could not rectify it. He did not dare to commit another mistake.
((To be Continued...))
_ _ _ _ _ _
Previous chapter: chapter 22 (2) - lion not a lamb
Next chapter : chapter 23 (1) - the disappearance
* Characters, events and the places in this story are fictional and a mere product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real-world events or characters is merely coincidental.
** Vijayapura and Marudur are fictional places.
Riza Jaufer
Akurana -Kandy,
Sri Lanka
