Who says that the flood waters have tamed the spirit of Abhinav Sahu, his two friends and children elsewhere? When we walked down the narrow road leading to Khanditar village in Rasulpur block of Cuttack district in Orissa on July 24, many warned us to be careful: “The flood waters can sweep you off your feet” we were told. They had a point.
As we came across the first sheet of water that drained into a tributary of the Kharasrota (which roughly means “turbulent current”), we saw three children approaching, their faces beaming, as if to welcome us to their village. Till we left for another spot, Abhinav and his friends were our constant companions. They told us how their huts and houses had slowly, but with a deadly finality, succumbed to the pressure of water gushing through the nearly 100m breach of the left bank of the river.
“The breach began as a thin crack in the embankment, but within a few hours, it enlarged and soon a part of the embankment was washed away,” said some villagers.
Just a few metres away was the hut of Abhinav’s friend – it stood like an island. The villagers had done their best to block the flow with coconut tree trunks (a casualty of the Ersama supercyclone in 1999) and freshly chopped banana stems. But that did not help. The flow drilled holes in the base and washed away chunks of the mud floor. The hut looked like a riverine valley with water draining out of everywhere. The earthen chula sat soaked in one corner, counting the days till the poor dwellers of the hut could cook their meals again.
As we waded along another stretch of muddy water that raced across the village road which had an asphalt surface, the three children were joined by others who jumped, skipped, shouted and sang happily as they ushered us in. “You must see my house,” said Abhinav, and soon I was standing in ankle-deep water in the middle of the kitchen. Just outside, I could see the breach and the water rushing steadily into the village. It was just a matter of time before the water reached a life-threatening height.
The narrow road through this village had breached some 300m from National Highway 5 and Abhinav and his friends joined other children who wanted to be photographed as they braved the chest- deep water to cross the 25m breached stretch.
Fifteen-year-old Abhinav, a student of class IX, hardly looks 10 years. Probably the result of malnutrition in early childhood. But that did not starve his spirits. He explained meticulously how the water came, what it did and what it could do in the coming days. A gifted teacher in the making? Probably, if he gets the support. Intellect and exposure are crucial ingredients to one’s chance of success in life, but the indispensible factor, you will agree, is support – both social and parental.
On July 25, when we went into Botakhala village, a delta bordered by the Devi and the Khandala in the Niali block of Cuttack district, we again met children who were curious and followed us everywhere. They climbed the half-baked cyclone relief centre (where the villagers are supposed to take shelter in case of a cyclone) and posed for a photograph. A four-year-old child became an instant disciple once I caught him holding his safety-pinned pants up. Unlike Abhinav, this youngster ran behind us up to a good distance not heeding his mother’s cries. Finally, his older sister came and whisked him away.
Wherever the flood water had crept up to the level of the roads, there were as many adults as children, either observing or lending a hand to try and stop the onslaught of water. The flood which has unnerved the adults, has obviously not touched the spirit of the very young who are playful. As if nothing has happened. The food in the relief material (flattened rice, halogen tablets to purify water and oral rehydration sachets in case of diarrhoea) that reaches the villagers infrequently has been given to the children first by their parents. So the children have nothing to worry about. What all of them do now in flood-ravaged Orissa is to enjoy running along the swirling waters and watch as trees are washed away and hyacinth clumps bob up and down as they vanish out of sight.