THE FULL CIRCLE: PART 4

“Baba je suntai re mallah dharti loti re jayatai

Bhaiyya je suntai re mallah jaal bans re khirtai

Aama je suntai re mallah Kosi dhainsi re martai

Bhauji je suntai re mallah bhari munh re hanstai.”

(O boatman, if my father hears of it [my death] he will collapse,If my brother hears of it, he will have a net thrown in the river,If my mother hears of it, she will drown herself in Kosi,If my sister-in-law hears of it, she will inwardly smile.)

As her eyes drank in the gory scenes of destruction all around and the heart sank to a low remembering her family, the songs the womenfolk sang in chorus to cease the fury that the Kosi had unleashed on their lives began resounding in her ears - when one is surrounded by sorrow, there is a limit even to one’s crying; at such moments the pain bursts forth in song and helps assuage it.

On her haunches in the dormitory of a relief camp set up by an NGO for shelter of the flood-affected victims, Radha had been across rehabilitation centers and relief camps trying to locate the whereabouts of Madhav & her in-laws. Day before had been a very normal day to start with but the fact that the fate of well over 3 million people would be forever impacted was hardly an apparent one.

With her in-laws en route to Madhepura visiting a relative, Radha had packed their lunch box early morning before Madhav had dropped them off at the bus stop. The normal routine of the day was suddenly broken by the red alert sounded off by government authorities claiming an immediate evacuation drive of the town due to the sudden release of Kosi flood waters from the Nepalese side on account of breakage of the dam at the border – the floods that had become a routine annual phenomenon had hardly ever impacted Madhubani, but this time around, the river had apparently changed its course bringing about one of the worst floods Bihar had witnessed in 5 decades. Blaring loudspeakers mounted on tempos did the rounds to spread the word, most people latched onto whatever they could gather in their vicinity and made a beeline for the highway chugging along basic requirements and valuables stuffed in overflowing baggage mounted onto a domesticated calf/ mule. It was under such chaos that Madhav had unrelentingly left to check on his parents at the bus stop whilst Radha packed her jewellery and other valuables.

The scenes of that fateful day had played like a reel continuously exposed to the projector in Radha’s mind; her stupor only being broken by the announcement of yet another list of newly located people being put up on the notice board – the futility of the entire exercise had begun to sink into her after going through various lists across different camps but all in vain, yet not losing hope, she had picked herself off the ground to roll her eyes over yet another list only to further be dispirited.

The annual calamity could have been avoided with the co-operation of public authorities on both sides of the border – erecting a strong dam on the Kosi whose waters could be used for irrigation of the otherwise parched land could have been an easy solution, but the non-compatibility on revenue-sharing between the Indian & Nepalese authorities had been the bane of the problem since years. Causing havoc across 14 districts and displacing people over 2000 villages, the actual impact of the flood was noticed only after media reports had begun to pour in over a period of days – her own being salvaged was a miracle in itself, but Radha was hardly in a mental state to grasp the facts.

The surrounding scenes of dead bodies floating over the flood waters, children defecating into the same water post the nutrition absorbed into their bodies from the limited morsels of daal-rice they could gather from some donor NGO and the people at large depending on the same resource for their supply of potable water, diseases & epidemics were on the rise with the outbreak of diarrhea and malaria - medical facilities being few & far between added fuel to fire. With their farmlands submerged under water, most people were worried about their livelihood options even post the waters receding and trafficking of children was rampant with parents willing to sell their wards for as low as 200 rupees to traders who would later sell them as forced labour in tea shops else prostitution. In such a scenario, the 2-month pregnant Radha had little discrimination left in her to think on her feet than to just go with the course her fate took.

Directionless, once the waters had receded over 2 weeks, she had traveled on foot to the location their home had been situated at, searching for Madhav only to discover ruins and ramparts of the structure covered by a dilapidated roof – the water had risen as high at a certain point so as to carry the varied parts of the structure in its wake. The remains in most parts seemed plundered for whatever they were worth and the entire neighbourhood looked as though razed to the ground. The small hay-shed that had served as Laxmi-Raja’s re-location shelter after Kailash’s demise had only a few stilts stuck in the ground with the blurred image of the two grazing the fields hanging onto one of the corners faintly fluttering in the rancid wind. The scene of the momentous day had rewinded in her mind – the helter-skelter search for Madhav at first, the desperate retreat to salvage valuables followed by the wasted effort to escape the impending doom.

The shelter of her relief camp had been Radha’s safety haven for the initial few weeks, but as weeks extended into months, like most rescue operations, the pockets of most NGO’s had been drained of monies, the charity made to public authorities had found its way into the hands of well-meaning middlemen and the headlines of newspapers had been replaced with the brewing political scenario of the country.

It was in such a scenario that the offer put up by a placement agency at the Madhubani bus stand had come across as promising – ridden with a fair bit of suspicion, the plain sheet of paper stuck with a healthy pouring of glue had simply read “WANTED – Female, Age 18-25, Salary – Rs. 100/- per day” – with scarce opportunities, only a few ornaments on her to support limited days and the additional responsibility of a soul in her stomach, Radha had wanted to explore any avenue that came across her way.