I walked clutching my mother's hands
It felt slippery with sweat, she held my little brother over her hip
The sea breeze whispered through the banyan trees
And blew sticky salty air into my face
The hot midday sun made my shirt stick to my back
I had to half walk and half run to keep up with my mother
She had tears in her fiery eyes, furrowed brows and a steely face
The cathedral's spires could be seen, like a child's perspective drawing
against the backdrop of the Bay of Bengal, with the waves powerfully crashing,
crashing into the hot sands, the heat blew a wavy mirage over the scattered shells. My mother half dragged half lifted me as she rushed on towards the sea. The sea was her last refuge, she had snapped, like a dried twig in a blazing flame. The spires grew ever larger, the arch in the middle of the beach grew larger too, but they seemed smaller and smaller as the waves got bigger. There was not a cloud to be seen, yet the breeze grew into a stormy gust, the air did not smell of fish anymore, it was only fear and salt. The fishing boats were landed far up the shore, the storm was coming.
I did not know if I was ready to die. I was only doing as my mother told me to, just following her. The solid spires danced in the heat of the mirage. The salty spray misted them. I wished I could go in for a cool drink of water before my salty grave claimed me. I tried asking my mother, shouting out to her, but she was muttering a string of words, that sounded like the patter of angry rain on a tin roof. I could not understand her words, but they were the words of a woman whose mind was made up, her bruised swollen lips were beautiful with a few drops of deep red showing against the bluish black.
The clouds raced in, like a river in spate breaking open the floodgates. The sun was occluded and a few cool drops whipped about in the whimsy wind. The drops grew larger and the wind blew stronger. The spires disappeared, the arch was a mere silhouette, the trees swayed dangerously, the leafy sussurations replaced with the wooden creaks of timber straining against the sheer force of a cyclone, heralding its arrival like a million tiny drummers. The grains of sand and dust mixed with the cold angry drops were whipped into my face and my arms and dripped off my frock that ballooned behind me as I walked against the wind. My mother paid no heed to my brother's piteous cries, they were drowned by the crash and roar of the waves.
We trudged on through the sandy beach, when the enormity of the waves became the only vision possible, it dominated our horizon, it filled our minds with what the future held. The sheer force of nature on display here was mind numbing. The cold wind that pitted our faces with lashes of water and sand slowed our pace. My mother's muttering ceased completely as her eyes widened with terror at the spectacle that filled the sea. The enormous waves were all that one could see as far as the horizon. A pale voice called out to us, like a misty wraith in the distance. The figure hurried towards us, in a last desperate attempt to make amends. My mother plunged her head into his bosom, weeping uncontrollably, the tremors of her body passed lightly through her hand that still gripped mine tightly.
It felt slippery with sweat, she held my little brother over her hip
The sea breeze whispered through the banyan trees
And blew sticky salty air into my face
The hot midday sun made my shirt stick to my back
I had to half walk and half run to keep up with my mother
She had tears in her fiery eyes, furrowed brows and a steely face
The cathedral's spires could be seen, like a child's perspective drawing
against the backdrop of the Bay of Bengal, with the waves powerfully crashing,
crashing into the hot sands, the heat blew a wavy mirage over the scattered shells. My mother half dragged half lifted me as she rushed on towards the sea. The sea was her last refuge, she had snapped, like a dried twig in a blazing flame. The spires grew ever larger, the arch in the middle of the beach grew larger too, but they seemed smaller and smaller as the waves got bigger. There was not a cloud to be seen, yet the breeze grew into a stormy gust, the air did not smell of fish anymore, it was only fear and salt. The fishing boats were landed far up the shore, the storm was coming.
I did not know if I was ready to die. I was only doing as my mother told me to, just following her. The solid spires danced in the heat of the mirage. The salty spray misted them. I wished I could go in for a cool drink of water before my salty grave claimed me. I tried asking my mother, shouting out to her, but she was muttering a string of words, that sounded like the patter of angry rain on a tin roof. I could not understand her words, but they were the words of a woman whose mind was made up, her bruised swollen lips were beautiful with a few drops of deep red showing against the bluish black.
The clouds raced in, like a river in spate breaking open the floodgates. The sun was occluded and a few cool drops whipped about in the whimsy wind. The drops grew larger and the wind blew stronger. The spires disappeared, the arch was a mere silhouette, the trees swayed dangerously, the leafy sussurations replaced with the wooden creaks of timber straining against the sheer force of a cyclone, heralding its arrival like a million tiny drummers. The grains of sand and dust mixed with the cold angry drops were whipped into my face and my arms and dripped off my frock that ballooned behind me as I walked against the wind. My mother paid no heed to my brother's piteous cries, they were drowned by the crash and roar of the waves.
We trudged on through the sandy beach, when the enormity of the waves became the only vision possible, it dominated our horizon, it filled our minds with what the future held. The sheer force of nature on display here was mind numbing. The cold wind that pitted our faces with lashes of water and sand slowed our pace. My mother's muttering ceased completely as her eyes widened with terror at the spectacle that filled the sea. The enormous waves were all that one could see as far as the horizon. A pale voice called out to us, like a misty wraith in the distance. The figure hurried towards us, in a last desperate attempt to make amends. My mother plunged her head into his bosom, weeping uncontrollably, the tremors of her body passed lightly through her hand that still gripped mine tightly.
