Novembers are rainy months. Dark clouds. Gloomy days. Cold nights. Dull song of the birds. Chilly wind. Yet a pleasant melancholy feeling. Staying inside;sitting by the window; wrapped in blankets with a cup of sweetened black tea or boiled peanuts; enjoying the sound of the rain. The plants in the front yard garden are fresh and colour-ful, as if they had a shower in the morning. Dews on the tip of the leaves. The love of the cool warm sunlight melted them into nothing. Dripping droplets of water glittered like diamonds making soft heavenly sound. The seven sisters beautifully shake their body to drain the water away. The Gardenias glisten bright and white washed by the rain difusing their heavenly perfume in the air.
Not any more.
Today has a special darkness to it. There was an aerial attack last night. Most of the night was spent in the bunkers. Screeching sound of the rocket launcher and blinding light scared us to death. We could hear the screams from a distance. Nobody knows where it was, how scary it was, how many people died, how many injured. Were there any kids killed? Were there any children who lost their mothers? Were there any wives who lost their husbands? Has anyone lost their house? No body knows. These news took time to reach people through news papers or word of mouth.
We, three families from the neighbourhood, built the bunker together. It is a lot of hard work. You have to dig at least a six feet deep pit. The width would differ depending on the number of people. Our bunker has six feet width as there were ten of us. The bunker on the top was covered with stack of palmyrah trunks and sand bags on top of them.
Being together in the dark bunker with a small candle at the back of the bunker, so no one would see from outside, gives us some strength. Having others next to you prevent you from dark imaginations. Crawling scorpions, slime snakes, disgusting leeches, army throwing a hand grenade into the bunker, some thieves entering the house. All sort of imaginations are screened and blocked by holding the hands, whispering to each other, praying together, sharing the cookies, bread and banana.
Waves will continue to crash….