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Story so far: I knew Vicky as a taxi-driver, but no, he runs a travel business along with his brother Balbir. Though Vicky makes more money than earlier, I am sad that the brothers don't see eye to eye in running their venture. Tragedy.

Episode 100

Why do good businesses flounder on the egos of siblings? That was the question I left you with last week, and there have been friendly mails on the brotherly problem, but I'd rather devote attention this week to what I have been doing the last few days.

September 11 was about towers under attack, but December 26 was a case of towers of water on an attack mode.

That Sunday, I sat numb before the TV watching the unfolding news, and checking the welfare of my colleagues who stayed close to the beach. But by afternoon, it was becoming too tough to be a couch potato, doing nothing. I turned my address-book and called a few friends, and soon within an hour we were all meeting at Woodlands. There was Gani who taught geography in a high-school; Suku, a recently-qualified doctor aiming to set up practice in the neighbourhood; Anil, a CA with a flair for long drives; and Geeta, Chandru's wife. It took a few minutes for all of us to come out of shock and stop sipping Coke as a proxy to handling the events at hand.

"So?" I asked, wishing not to plant any of my ideas into others' heads. Anil looked at us, and said, gesturing to the parking lot, "I've brought my Scorpio. Hop in, and we go to Nagapattinam." We looked at each other, allowing the thought to sink in. Nobody was against it, but we needed a few hours. I said, "First, let's plan what we're going to do. I have spoken to my boss and he has granted me a whole week off. He also spoke to the chairmen of the local branches of the Chamber of Commerce to help, if needed." Gani said, "Cuddalore was in my mind too, though Nagapattinam is more severely affected. I spoke to Radhakrishnan who is the collector of Thanjavur district, and a friend of my school principal; he sounded very grim about the situation." In the meantime, Geeta got an okay from Chandru. And Suku was mobilising cartons of essential medicine from some of his pharma contacts.

We spent the next hour or so in drawing up a list of materials we would be taking with us. Not clothes or food, we decided, but medicines and course material. "Don't tell me you're going to run a continuing education programme there," said Anil. But Geeta responded, "This is the time we have to keep the children and women occupied with thoughts other than the tragedy." And Gani nodded.

********

10 p.m. The city stayed indoors, and the police had cordoned off the beach. People were trying to fitfully sleep, but we five were on the East Coast Road in Anil's gaadi, packed to the hilt with Suku's medicines, Gani's charts, and Geeta's craft-kits. There was doleful music on the car stereo, and I said, "Cut it, Anil. We need something energetic to work."

********

5 a.m. The car reached a school premises. Gani had organised beforehand the venue for our camping, and so we moved in our things into a big auditorium. We could see police vans unloading people evacuated from the affected places, and the school authorities were accommodating them in classrooms that had been hurriedly emptied of furniture. An NGO was filling up water cans, while another was giving neat bundles of clothes to those who had been deprived of everything except what they were wearing. A few electricians were fitting extra lights, as if to drive vestiges of darkness away. Ah, if only we could do so with misery, I thought.

By 7 a.m. after a quick bath, we all packed into the car, and went off to see the extent of damage. A local official, who had been working through the night, accompanied us. We saw the trail of damage in various forms, and many volunteers were helping in various ways, along with the administrative personnel. Some were pulling out dead bodies, while others clearing the rubble. I said, "Anil, wait. We're not on picnic!" Geeta was already closing her face to the scenes that were passing by the window. Gani said, "I agree, it's too painful to proceed." Suku said, "Yeah, let's go back and start our work." The vehicle took a U-turn and returned to the school.

********

9 a.m. Breakfast was being served then by a social service organisation. We went to each classroom where the camping people were accommodated and told them to come soon to the auditorium for the day's programme. I was diffident if any would care to come after the harrowing experiences they have been through, but I was wrong. Before 10, the auditorium was full. Gani told me, "Swati, start!" I went up to the dais, and said, Vanakkam!" Well, that's the Tamil greeting, if you didn't know. Then, I introduced each one in my team and said that we had come to their place as their guests, with only one longing: "We want to be with you, to show you're not alone in this misery." I could see Anil wiping a tear off his eye.

********

12 noon. What a surprise! Without much fanfare, there was Radhakrishnan, the district collector from the nearby Thanjavur, at the entrance to the auditorium. Anil and I met him and asked him about the ongoing relief work. He said, "Colossal loss of life and property! Our first priority is move all the dead bodies to the morgue, have them identified, and then attend to their safe disposal. But there is a warning of another tsunami today." I thought, "Oh, no!" but said, "But we want to continue our work here." We took Radhakrishnan round the auditorium. Suku was treating the wounded.

A little girl was asking him, "Will you put oosi?" She was obviously afraid of injections! Suku shook his head and gave her a toffee. Geeta had eager children around her and they were working on various projects — such as drawing a cat, or dog. I could notice that a small boy was trying to draw a big wave and people running away; somebody nearby told me, "He lost his entire family yesterday!" Gani kept a group of young men enthralled with his discussion of nature and earth, how quakes occur and why waves rise. Anil said, "Swati, we may not need a Met Department, after all!"

The collector looked at us and said, "Good, call me on the mobile in case you need anything. I'm happy that you're standing shoulder to shoulder with us in handling this catastrophe." I thought, "Wouldn't it be a greater disaster if we refused to meet calamity head-on?" Send in your thoughts by Friday.

Swati_CA@hotmail.com

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