ANUGRAHA
‘The Supertech Twin Towers, taller than the iconic Qutub Minar, was brought down with explosives weighing at least 3,700 kilograms, causing the entire neighborhood engulfed in a sea of smoke and debris.’
The apex court has assured all the home buyers that the entire amount will be refunded. After reading the item in the newspaper, Srinivas recalled his ordeal and wondered how long the harried buyers would have to wait. As the horrendous nightmare of the past flashed before his weary eyes, a silent prayer escaped his lips. After the devastating floods in the city and the suburbs, several residential and commercial buildings were identified by the Municipal Corporation for demolition as they had become uninhabitable. The government has offered relocation and resettlement plans in fulfillment of the urban renewal project.
Srinivas shuddered as his thoughts raced to his three-bedroom dwelling submerged in the floods.
Anugraha, his home of sixty years, was built brick by brick by his grandfather and subsequently, improvements had been made by his father. The abode that resonated with the laughter of children, devout prayers of his grandparents, had hosted several familial events- lost in reverie, his nostrils took in the gastronomic delights of the large kitchen where grandmother would conjure up scrumptious food for his family and the neighbors. All the neighbors were pleasant and on good terms with each other. The menfolk, a few women too, were retired government servants who had got houses constructed, fascinated by the green environs and quietude. The place was serene with basic amenities and was just a few kilometers away from the railway junction and bus terminus.
Not for long, though! Within a few years after the technological boom grew in leaps and bounds, apartments mushroomed around the independent dwellings; in time, the green environs turned into a concrete jungle. Despite petitions and pleas to the higher authorities, the hapless residents could not stop the mindless construction activities and faced innumerable hardships. During the monsoons, the roads would get flooded. Once, water entered the home of Srinivas and a few other houses as well. Fortunately, the downpour subsided in time, and they could get all the muck and filth cleared with professional help. It came at a cost, and the maintenance operation proved to be a huge strain on Srinivas’ purse.
Many a time, he debated if he should sell the property and move over to his ancestral village, where he had a smaller home, adjacent to the ancient temple that housed a century-old Peepul tree. His wife was reluctant as she had gotten accustomed to the city-home with its din, bustle, and services. In contrast, their village was quite undeveloped and did not have good connectivity.
The last straw – the life-altering event came almost close to their twilight years. Torrential rain continued for a few days; the ribbon-like stream on the road rapidly turned into a raging river. Timely relief came when able-bodied volunteers in makeshift boats beckoned Srinivas and his wife to leave their home at that very instant. The couple had the presence of mind to take along their ID cards, cash, bank passbooks, their ‘ishta devta,’ a few clothes, and jewelry in a waterproof bag as they gingerly made their way into the boat that landed on the waters in front of their flooded home.
All the rescued people were accommodated in the nearby school, which was converted into a temporary shelter. Their cheery neighbors of earlier times were now battered, bruised, distraught, and depressed, just as Srinivas and his wife were. Their neighbors at the far end of the street – the Mohans - were conspicuous by their absence! A week after the deluge, Srinivas was traumatized to learn about their demise in the ‘watery grave.’ Despite coaxing, cajoling, and warning, they had refused to come out of their large two-story home.
It was a chilly morning. Srinivas and his wife sat on the thinnai[3] sipping filter coffee and enjoying the splendour of the new morning. The first rays appeared in hues of orange, crimson, grape, and yellow. The colorful streaks spread across the open courtyard, upon the temple tower, and all over. The large peepul tree nodded to the gentle wind as birds began to chirp gaily from the large trees overlooking the sunlit pond. A pair of sparrows swooped down, pecked at some grains on the ground, and flew away. Ants began to line up around the kolam [4]drawn with rice flour outside their home. With a meaningful smile, Srinivas’ wife remarked: Anugraha has conferred monetary benefits, taught us that life is transient; and most importantly, has made us understand how incredible life is…” Gently stroking her hair, Srinivas gave an affirmative nod.
(Notes: Anugraha - the name of a house, which means showing kindness, conferring benefits, promoting or furthering a good object. Ishta Devta - preferred deity or idol. Thinnai - sit out on verandah. Kolam aka rangoli are patterns drawn in front of homes that are aesthetically pleasing and also serve as food for ants and insects.)
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