It was an ordinary day except that the sky was changing into darker shades of grey with each passing minute. After a couple of hours of what seemed like deafening silence, the nature unleashed its fury on the city. We, the mortals, not able to withstand its power, struggled to stay afloat. Even the trees were not spared. They were robbed off their leaves. The river was in sorrow. Its waters have been polluted, the bridge watching it helplessly. The birds lost their homes. The residents had a change of heart. On what seemed like a rare occasion, they extended a helping hand to each other regardless of their Gods.
The city recovers sooner than expected. I’m in awe of its resilience. The roads are clean devoid of water, boasting about their induction in the ‘Clean India’ mission. There are no traces of the calamity except for a few dislocated sign-boards. It seemed that my city, not known for adapting to change had made peace with its past. The four lives lost were long forgotten.28/05/2017 became just another day in the calendar.
But the date is etched in mind of some people, whom others call ‘Survivors’. We, the survivors, are also humans capable of feeling emotions other than fear. We have seen ourselves and our loved ones suffer. Memories cling to us not letting us to be free. Everyday, we aspire to be like the city, but our wounds bleed every time we think of it.
This post was written as a part of My Friend Alexa Season 2 organised by Blog Chatter
P.S: This is a part of series of eight posts on the theme ‘Fiction and Poetry’. Do subscribe to my blog if you like this one. And yes, book reviews are a added bonus😉