A whole new world

This is my account of the Cyclone that hit Kolkata on Monday the 25th of May. Like every other Monday morning, I accompanied Nyasha to the HIV hospice in Arunima. Our brollies and anoraks kept us moderately dry as the rain began to fall in sheets.

According to Nyasha, co-ordinating the Arunima class of 15 children (ages 4-12) has not been the easiest of pursuits. Two months ago, none of the children at the hospice received any formal education. Since Nyasha's arrival, she has founded a classroom, - a previously derelict shack at the edge of the hospice's grounds, that she gutted with help from some of the hospice staff - and provided morning classes every weekday for 3 months. Although the childrens ' attendance is a little haphazard, she seems to have made an extremely positive impact and I can only see it progressing further.

We began the lesson with the habitual reading of a story - today's narrative was Jack and the Beanstalk - and swiftly moved on to the English alphabet. Meanwhile the weather was rapidly changing. The winds became more and more abusive, hammering the small shack from every direction; tree debris was being tossed around from right, left, centre; mangoes ripped from the overhanging canopy battered on the tin roof. The rain began to fall in torrents from every direction. Staff became concerned, insisting we come back to the main building. We made a run for it, braving the violent bursts of rain, while sheltering the children from flying twigs and fauna. There was a power cut by the time we huddled, drenched into the unlit, clammy hospice ward. We sat in the dark with the wind wrapping the shutters, waiting. Neither Nyasha and I knew how we were going to get home. In the midst of a frenzy of fretful calls from Volunteer coordinators, directors and friends urging us to stay in doors, the Arunima director organised a driver to escort us back to the apartment.

We darted through the battle field and clambered into the back of the jeep. Driving through the chaotic streets was terrifying - we instantly realised that this was no mere storm. Felled trees and telegraph poles were strewn lackadaisically over cars and side street shops. The driver accelerated through an electrical fire sparked by a bunch of loose pylon wires. We weaved through abandoned traffic and uprooted shrubs.We could only look on as pedestrians fought profusely against the elements; some had wrapped themselves in polythene bags, others ran to safety.

Not till that evening did we discover Cyclone Aila had simply brushed past the outskirts of Kolkata, hitting neighbouring Howrah. The death count was unconfirmed (one suspected hundreds), and several hundred residents in the low-lying areas were rendered homeless as their houses and hutments collapsed..........and we arrived home unscathed!!