Episode 327 : The last days of 2011- 2

December 29 and 30, 2011

'The last time I walked down this road, I said to myself- www.pondicherry.calm. Today, the sea looks anything but calm', I thought as I walked towards the statue of Mahatma Gandhi. The rough sea with its large, crashing waves only strengthened my suspicion that the cyclone was not far from where I stood.

I had seen countless storms and cyclones avoid Madras and go on to hit other parts of the eastern coast. I had heard of how the tsunami had wrecked homes along the eastern coast, secretly thankful that I did not live anywhere near the beach. This time, things were going to be very difficult.

I had never slept through a cyclone before, where howling winds bend trees to their will and rain pelts every dwelling in its path. A crack here and a crack there confirmed that yet another tree had given up its struggle and become a victim to an unforgiving force of nature. The plastic chairs that were tossed around in the balcony had no chance.

I first got out of my room a little before 11pm, to make sure that Garud was still standing and had not spilled all its fuel (almost an entire tankful). It was standing, unmindful of the mopeds around it that couldn't. I looked around for a brick to make sure it would still be standing the following morning.

It was a little before 4am that I got out of my room again. The wind speed had picked up considerably. Call me silly if you will, but I had images of a lonely, wet and shivering Garud in my mind and I wanted to make sure things were fine. To my amazement, every other two-wheeler around it was either lying on the ground or covered with broken branches. Garud still stood tall, decorated by a few straying leaves. I had had enough, and for my peace of mind I housed Garud in the nearby bicycle shed.

Sunrise presented the extent of destruction. Nearly every tree in the vicinity was either uprooted or broken. Luckily for all its residents, the cottages in the guest house escaped damage. The electric pole was precariously angled, thanks to the weight of two broken trees. The power supply had been disrupted even before the storm started, and we were staring at a disruption in water supply too. Out came buckets to collect rain water.

Even though it was obvious that all of Auroville was cut off from the rest of the state, we had to see how bad it really was. Broken trees were dime a dozen, and some of them were large. The community had already started its work- we found some of the way had been cleared for people to get emergency supplies. With some very basic implements, we set about doing our bit. People around me grunted and encouraged each other in Italian and English, as we tugged at broken branches or pulled the heavier ones to the side. Never mind cuts, bruises, thorns, red ants and the odd scorpion.

But how much can a motley crew of unskilled and unequipped people do? It was left to the teams with electric saws, and I heard them as we returned to the guest house- those saws sounded like mooing cows!

The following morning, news trickled in that it was possible for motorcycles to reach Pondicherry. I prepared to leave; it did not make any sense to strain what little resources the guest house had to sustain short-term visitors like me.

As I returned to Bangalore, the images of large trees lying by the roadside were hard to erase. Even though it was only for a few hours, my body had begun to ache from the physical labour that I had put in the previous day.

And I thought, I had never felt this way after putting in long hours at office. I had never felt this way after writing enough code to put something together that works as required.

I believe that there is no pain sweeter than this.