THE HOPE THAT DIED

Indira Nityanandam

Abhijeet sat down on a road side boulder. He really sat down. Sat down after 365 days. Stopped running, stopped walking and really and truly sat down. Allowed himself the luxury of sitting. Something that he had vowed not to do till...

Today 26-01-2002, he finally admitted defeat. Admitted to himself that there was no hope. Hope was finally dead-after flickering for a whole year. 'Never say die' had always been 35-year old Abhijeet's motto. In a booming voice that had a ring of humour in it, he would intone: "Hope springs eternal in the human heart" or "If winter comes, can spring be far behind?" or "Every cloud has a silver lining". Platitudes, they may seem to some, cliched proverbs to others. But to Abhijeet, they were undeniable truisms. They were life's only truths. He spoke and lived them. He laughed through the ups and downs of life - the death of his father when Abhijeet was still at school, penury at home, his mother's rugged determination to educate him, his excellent scholastic career, prizes and medals galore, the years at IIT and IIM, the job offer at the campus interview, meeting Rujuta and marrying her at a fairytale wedding, the two bubbly kids - Ranjana and Sanjana. How the years had flown by! How much he had lived and loved, how much he had given and received! The happy family – his aged mother, his wife and daughters had seen him off at 8 a.m., waving till his car turned the corner and was taken away from their view. In just two days, Abhijeet would be back here at Bhuj form Bombay where he went ever so frequently on official work. Yet, he was always seen off with such affection and welcomed back each time like a war hero. As the plane took off, Abhijeet was still thinking of the miles, the eons that he had travelled to reach his present position. He was still smiling to himself as he dreamt about all that he still wished to achieve even as the plane landed at Santa Cruz airport. Just a 90 – minute flight, but Abhijeet was already missing his family. Picking up his briefcase, he walked down smartly to the IA coach that would take him to the Grand Hotel at Worli where he always stayed on his visits to Bombay.

Always organized in everything, Abhijeet was mentally preparing the points to be discussed at the meeting, the likely objections, the appropriate answers etc. as he reached the hotel. At the reception counter, he overheard some animated discussion. Not one to waste time in unnecessary and idle talk, he continued to make the necessary entries in the hotel register. But stray words assailed his ears, stopped him in his tracks, almost hypnotized him. Words that were to change Abhijeet’s life not just for today but forever and more. ‘Bhuj’ ‘7.7’ ‘terrible’ ‘unimaginable’ ‘severe’ ‘shocking’ ‘epicenter’ ‘hopeless’ ‘thousands’ ‘Bhuj’…. Abhijeet realized that he had to somehow know what it was all about. And then he did get some information in bits and pieces. Truth or lies, fact or fiction, rumours and hearsay – to Abhijeet they all seemed some mumbo-jumbo-jumbled meaningless words. He tried to make some sense of it all but could make no sense at all.

He tried dialing every number at Bhuj, but he could reach no one. He knew that he had to get back but the question was “how?”

The next 24 hours remain a blur: airport counters, travel agencies, car rentals, railway reservation – he tried them all. What he did, what transport helped him Abhijeet cannot recall. By the next morning, he was at Morbi on his way to Kutch but it seemed as if hundreds of thousands of others had the same idea. Every m.m of road space was occupied, every form of transport was heading towards Kutch. Finally, weary in body, heavy at heart, drained of all energy but with his usual optimism still intact, Abhijeet reached Vokhra Fali in the heart of the town. What met his eyes there was beyond his worst fears! Worse than what he had seen in so many war movies in his childhood! Devastation all around! An eerie silence enveloped the area even though so many people were standing there! People, he had known – some vaguely, some well. Some stood as if a magic wand had turned them all to statues! some with tears rolling down, non-stop! Some in hope, some in despair. The 5-storeyed Prem Nivas where he lived was reduced to rubble. He heard in shocked silence that the bodies of his mother and wife had been removed. Yet, he hoped Ranjana and Sanjana were safe. Thank God for that. Even that hope began to totter when everyone he spoke to disclaimed any knowledge of their whereabouts. Yet, Abhijeet was sure they were safe because no one said they were dead. And then began his search. He worked with the foreign rescue teams with their trained dogs, which could sniff out trapped live people. The joined the social workers engaged in the clearing of rubble. Each time a search was begun, he hoped to see one or both of his daughters. He went from one medical camp to another, hoping to see them. Each day he would set out on a new trail. Each new path led only to a dead-end. He walked, he ran, he visited, he searched, he hoped, he lived with just that hope – that he would meet Sanjana and Ranjana.

But today, 365 days later Abhijeet gave up and sat down. Early next morning, a couple of newspaper boys reported to the Bhuj City Police Station that a middle aged man seems to have frozen to death in the chill winter night “No wonder” said the passers by “Yesterday Bhuj recorded 2 degrees C – the coldest night in 50 years”.

Little did they realize that it was Hope that had Died.

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