I am sitting here, waiting for someone to come and rescue me.
How do I know such a thing could have happened? I had come over for a vacation with my husband, and my beautiful baby- but now I am sitting besides my husband's corpse- six days after his death, totally mutilated, beginning to stale. The flood could have carried him away with it, on it's lap- the furious flood who snatched away his life at least. Yet he is lucky, lucky he is not missing, like thousands others, whose anxious relatives wait beneath- not even sure whether to celebrate their life, or cry over their death.
It's a deeply depressing thing. There's no food, there's no water- the only source is the nearby waterfall, yet dirty, dirty because of the number of corpses it carried along with it. It's equal to be a water in the drain. I am from a rich family, but what a pity, I have to beg for filling my stomach here. Locals look at us, and shut the door- what could they give us?They don't have enough to feed themselves, let alone providing us something to eat. Wherever I see, I see the destruction, I sit among the many dead. I do feel pity, but what more can I do than that?
My baby died, but at least I am happy for that. How could I give him support without my love? At least baby's death is not so dangerous, he didn't get trapped inside the falling debris.. he died out of hunger- there's nothing to eat. I see fellow women feeding themselves with wild leaves, if only I did it too, my baby would have survived. There are thousands of kids, crying, looking around for anything they could eat- anything they could call food...
And alas, I couldn't give them anything. For 60,000 stranded people, there were just a few dozens of helicopters. While the sena did all they could, the politicians got busy with vacations and votes, least caring about those stranded.
The whole nation sent us rescue materials, if only they would stop doing it. If only they understood they never reached us- the trucks left them in bulk over the lower terrains, fearing the road ahead and saving the fuel. The shopkeepers are selling whatever materials they can out of them. It's a havoc. If only, I too would have died on the first day itself, at least I wouldn't have to lose my family in front of my very own eyes, at least I wouldn't have to be hungry, and stranded, so cut-off from the rest of the world.
I board one of the copters, yet in the midway, it crashes down.
The furious weather has done it all- no one knows how many near and dear ones has it snatched...
Our saviour- he too died, and along with him, we too die.
I see the flames all around me, I feel my cremation is unique, happening mid air. At least I am happy, I don't have to survive without my love, my child... I don't have to mourn anymore. Maybe I am being punished for not letting the poor kid besides me board the copter, leaving behind my family's corpses thinking, "Don't the alive need to be saved first?" Maybe it wasn't in my luck to be alive. Even when I was almost out of my sufferings, I suffer again, but for the good
I am glad. I do not have to suffer the consequences.
I too am mutilated, but it doesn't matter.
