After the Deluge by Pratibha Ray

Author:Pratibha Ray [Ray, Pratibha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Eagle Books
Published: 2021-09-01T22:00:00+00:00

EIGHTEEN

Sankha's mother worships the 330 million deities, but has not understood this much. She has a head only to bow down before the gods, but no brain to appreciate the deeper meanings. What can you say? That's the female mind!

Udhab's male head, wishing all the best for his son, bowed before the 330 million deities and finally the old Pir, as if his son had gone to war. Would he come back alive? Such a nagging doubt was smarting his benevolent father's heart.

But God knows why, he chastised Sankha's mother, "Why are you sobbing at your son's departure for duty? How could Bikram's mother hold herself, sending her son to war? As if you alone have given birth to a son! Why not you go and pack up whatever rice, sugar, and provisions are at home? God only knows where so many of us would take shelter?"

Udhab Mangual had just returned from praying at the Bhagbat Gaddi, Mother Basulei's temple, and the Pir Sadhu. While returning, he'd been chased by the wild wind, wind that had been like a hissing cobra. The intensity of the rain had increased in the meantime. Was there any method to this wind and rain? Someone was saying at the Gaddi that, after the Kargil debacle, Pakistan had sent this devastating cyclone to India using black magic. It is also heard that Pakistan may direct half of this cyclone to Bangladesh. Pakistan is also the enemy of Bangladesh. But is this the way to treat your enemy?

When Udhab reached home, he found his wife touching her head on the central doorway, praying for the welfare of Benua, Bhagyadhar, and Marua, and crying over all of her worries and fears. To add to the stress of the household, Bhagyadhar's son, Kapila, was now shivering with high fever. He'd also developed rigor. No medicine had any effect on the boy.

Kapil was the apple of the eye of Girima. Instead of his mother's lap, the boy was having an uneasy sleep in the lap of Girima. Padma, dragging the boy to her lap, cried and made the boy cry. Uncle and aunt, the old couple, are grunting in their geriatric pain. One after another, so many fears and apprehensions, so many futile solutions to a million helpless problems, all creep into the mind of Udhab like wild canker growth. And his wife herself is in constant trouble with her heavy, swollen feet.

What can poor Udhab do? In every home there is sickness, disease, want, frustration, and pain in uneven measure. As the others would face the cyclone, Udhab too would have the same face-off. What would be the point in weeping and wailing? Udhab was irritated.

"We are not alone, having so many problems in this crisis. Why are you confusing me by crying? Be patient till this dark night passes. The night frightens more. When the sun rises, you would see. All fears would go. Leave everything to Mother Basuli."

At that moment, giving her feverish child to Girima,

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