In between all the chemotherapy sessions and weekly blood tests, the most relaxing activity for Suri and me have been visits to the neighbourhood beach. We take a slow walk to the beach and walk (push the stroller!) up and down the esplanade. The sea breeze and the local kulfi icecream are some of the most effective relaxants in the world! Suri knows most of the regular visitors to the beach – we all go there at the same time, and share life stories. It is interesting that all of us have not-so-upbeat life stories to share.
Today was different. The beach we all love, turned a wee bit red I feel. There were tears everywhere. Even fear hung in the air. What if another tsunami comes along, right now, as it did 7 years ago? There were people like us, out for a morning jog / chit-chat / fresh air when the tsunami struck this very beach. We all know where the first wave crashed; we all know to which house on the other side of the esplanade the water reached; we all know there is no running to escape the waves if it struck; yet here we are, on our daily visits, hoping that it won’t happen again. (I have charted out the path of running and the highest points of the route if at all we need to make an escape – which will all be useless if a tsunami wave actually fell on us :))
Today, my heart goes out to all those who could not escape that wave on Boxing Day, 2004. People like us, who went about their daily relaxation routine at the neighbourhood beach. And also to those who saved hundreds with their quick thinking – without you, my neighbourhood would today be a ghost town.