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Survival of the Luckiest
CHANAKYA[Editor's
note: These are the expressions from a human being who luckily survived the
monstrous Tsunami in Sri Lanka.....]
For the religious-minded who survived, the terror tsunami that stormed Southeast
and South Asia on December 26th is partial apocalypse. They are groping about
for answers as to why their dear ones and fellow humans along coastlines were
taken by water avalanches up to 30 feet high while they themselves were spared.
“Why are we living when so many have been washed away in littoral fury?” What is
the rationale of distinction in the rage of the ocean? Is there an unfulfilled
purpose for which some were kept alive? Perhaps to grieve and mourn the colossal
calamity and to help rebuild from the ruins.
Having narrowly escaped the tidal demon in eastern Sri Lanka, I consider myself
privileged to see nobility emerge from the rubble. Maybe that is the reason I
was not sent packing to the other universe without a moment’s notice like the
lakhs of hapless victims. The dead probably already enjoyed the noblesse oblige
of the human species, even the tiny babies whose torsos and heads were wrenched
apart. I live to realise it.
A quiet dignity reigns on the motionless faces of corpses littering hospital
floors all over Batticaloa district, as nurses scramble to meet the shortage of
white funereal cloth. The deformed appear angelic. I reverentially touch the
feet of friends and colleagues whose existence was a source of joy and
inspiration, hoping that the end came quickly without torture. In their
stillness lies a message- I outlive them so that their stories can be the
ballast of a resurrection of civil society and peace in this war-ravaged
country. I am struck by universal epiphanies in the company of the ultimate
truth- how valuable the contributions of these fine people were and what
unrecoverable losses in human resource the seven affected countries must have
suffered. If disasters simply knocked out economies, they would not be as
harmful. In this sense, the tsunami is like war. Human potential and capability
are the biggest casualties.
The tsunami is unlike war because of its non-partisanship. Rich and poor,
government and rebels, Muslims, Sinhalese and Tamils, are all its
uncomprehending scalps in Sri Lanka. Survival kissed only the luckiest, not the
strongest or the fittest. The response to shelter and feed displaced civilians
of one community comes from their constructed mortal enemies. I see Muslim
traders collecting spontaneous donations of cash and kind to succour getaway
Tamil villagers hording into schools across eastern Sri Lanka. This is a region
where the two groups are supposed to be facing a cohabitation crisis. The
communal virus is sheathed when the tormentor is a non-discriminatory natural
menace.
Citizens’ actions- spreading the news of the oncoming waves to the unaware and
caring for the dispossessed- are the main sources of hope in the first two days
of the crisis. Government and NGOs are too paralysed to take any action. Appeals
over news media have raised flocks of service-minded volunteers in unaffected
interior districts. They are rushing in with essential supplies and solidarity
to the coastal parts. I read that Sri Lanka last suffered a massive earthquake
in the early 17th century, when nearly two thousand people were killed. Thank
God for the communications revolution that sympathy and philanthropy can be
mobilised much faster in our day and age.
I apprehend that black-marketing and hoarding have started apace in all the
tsunami-affected areas of the southern arc of Asia. This is where injustice and
unfairness come in- when supplies are at a premium, the highest bidder gets them
without being the most needy. The vulpine nature of some thrives in such
settings, bringing disgrace to the same human race I am praising. For every few
thousand Florence Nightingales, there must be one Shylock. It is how good and
evil get balanced in the cosmic design. I console myself that as long as the sum
total of good people remains at 51%, the universe will be sustained.
How do humans cope with fear? Survivors of the Iranian and Indian earthquakes
are still struggling to sleep peacefully, despite time’s diligent efforts to
build a healing bridge. The Asian tsunami is still a fresh gnash. Every morning
since the 26th, I dread the 8: 45-9 AM moments and look balefully at the nearest
water source. I close my eyes and visualise the rushing horror of a titanic wave
propelled by plate tectonics somewhere in Aceh. The ocean is a conglomerate of
infinite little water drops. Which lot in this pullulating mass was ordered to
go and wreck havoc on land? Was there a contest between drops over which would
be assigned for this mass killing under duress? I want to be sure that the ocean
water is gentle and life sustaining, home to billions of floral and faunal
species, source of human nourishment and trade.
Newspaper editorials are pointing to the absence in Asia of a tsunami warning
system such as the one operative in the Pacific Ocean rim. Sri Lanka and India,
the worst damaged, are regretting lack of advance notice that could have saved
thousands of lives. The Pacific Ocean system can detect tsunami signs 3-14 hours
before the deluge. However, Asia’s uneven and non-contiguous topography will
strain the technicians. In the part of Sri Lanka I am in, even 1 hour of advance
would suffice for people to pack their life savings into a sack and run. War has
displaced people here so often that their danger preparedness is of a
professional quality. Even in the total chaos unleashed around 9 AM on the 26th,
confounded by the lack of information as to which side is safe, people appeared
relatively calmer and more stoic than me.
The high points of the ordeal are titbits coming in that contacts of whom I
feared the worst are alive, barely. Also heartening is knowledge that the
war-executing capacities of armed actors, especially naval-based, have been
severely dented. Maybe the thousands who died or went missing sacrificed to give
the rest of us a respite from the breakdown of ceasefire and resumption of
full-scale hostilities. Human folly will undoubtedly be re-established, but any
breather is welcome to the conflict-saturated. International aid, that
ever-shrinking percentage in Western budgets, has been reactivated, if only for
the immediate disaster-related needs. Housing is a medium-term need that will
demand serious external investment and expertise about height and distance from
the shores.
An intangible gain is the empathy and concern shown by the rest of the world for
Asians who lost so much on Black Boxing Day. If individual countries are urging
themselves to unite internally in magnanimity, the outpouring of love from
around the globe is reminding us of the essential oneness of the human species.
A mother in Switzerland knows and feels the sorrow of her counterpart in Sumatra
if she has heard the news. She will even contribute if her government or an
international organisation appeals in a telethon. I receive goodwill wishes from
three continents and know that there is a quid pro quo involved. When floods,
cyclones or heat waves ravage innocents in those continents, I will stretch out
with my kind thoughts (possibly dig into my pockets) from a distance.
The greatest tacit moral support I receive from the faces of the aggrieved and
the unaffected as they go about rebuilding shattered societies is agreement.
They agree through solemn gestures and diminution that what happened on the 26th
was horrible. Out of collective grief and collective agreement, I can extract
lessons that are reassuring. The human condition is all alone in normal times
but all together in tragedy. |
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