Take the Power Back

Here we are now. I turned thirty. I'm losing my powers. One of my office mates noticed. It's been bothering me.

Yes, I really do mean powers. When I was still quite happy and self-confident, I could often command both the weather and the convenient arrival of taxi cabs to wherever I happened to be standing. Soon after certain realities dawned, all I had was the flimsy ability to zap people with static at the office. And I don't even attribute that to my charming, guileless mess of a person but to my long, unmanaged but manageable hair.

It reflected much.

But yesterday, something snapped. The rains, which only reminded me too well of tragedies that were not really tragedies but spirit-toughening exercises, grew too strong for comfort yesterday. Going home in the cab, in paths that were once alien and hostile during those days of extreme grief, made me hate the fear that would well up inside me when I'd see the raging waters of the hometown river. There now, close to 18.

The thing is, I am a person of faith. Faith in something, that's for sure, faith in the collective desire of people to assert their sovereignty over all forces in the known universe in the face of growing terror. In the end, it is the misplaced arrogance of being the only thinking entities on this planet. But what the hell, I am human. I like being alive.

So when I think back at it now, here's what I recall. I pass by the river, too close for safety, as four wide lanes are now a single passable road, overpowered by the river spilling over onto the concrete. People with umbrellas are actually watching the water rise. Watching for the water level to reach 18 meters, which tells them all hell is about to break loose. Only hell in the form of water, and we all know what that means.

It is 6PM, the water had just hit 17 meters. In the AM radios they say the other dams have started giving out.

When I reach home everything is up at shelves my father made for precisely this purpose. My mother is slicing a hand across her chest, indicating that's how far it went up before, and so we should try and salvage what we could. Ironically, the double deck, my tiny personal space, would probably be the safest place to put important stuff. I try to make light of things. Surely a storm that strong would not happen again in the next ten, twenty years.

Time passes by slowly and quickly, we don't know anymore. We were waiting for we don't know what, really. We analyzed how things felt like the first time, and what should be our signal to evacuate. The rains get stronger. The sound is louder because my father had removed some patches of ceiling for a re-roofing project. There is water inside the house but because of leaks. I wish I could move us to a better-feeling place.

Forced to a standstill, my brother invents good vibes by ordering crispy pata. They would not deliver. I volunteer to get the food with him. We go out to fetch the food and try to ease myself by thinking hey the roads aren't flooded, there's nothing to worry about. But then I remember what flash floods mean and grow somber throughout the trip to the restaurant.

People were singing inside. Some ballad, I don't remember anymore. I happily shell out money the equivalent of three modest meals for a family of five. We return and eat and my brother and I have a laugh about this being very much like our last supper. In any case, we ravaged the poor things.

By 9PM the water was a little past 17.5m. I did a rough calculation and thought, at the rate the water was climbing, it would be at 18m by midnight. And I was growing sleepy. I could not be too sleepy for my impending demise. I struggle to stay awake. The rain grows stronger.

And then there it was, an invitation to pray.

Remember I was no longer doing the things that felt so natural to me a decade ago. I still had the books but more to remind myself that I could go back to it whenever I wanted to. But that they were vestiges of the past, too, and that none of these beliefs had been sturdy enough to sustain me. But I did, mostly because I believed my mother had a secret passcode to the heart of the universe whenever it was crunch time.

And so there, at what could only be at this point a little less than half a metre towards the 18 meter mark, the rain stopped.

Not completely, no, it was still raining intermittently this morning. But it was enough to buy us some reassurance that while we were all going to die some day, it was not going to be this night.

I slept on the sofa just in case.

In the morning, I thought about a lot of things but of one thing in particular. That we do belittle the power we have over this universe. And it is certainly appalling. I finished reading the book I read yesterday and made plans for the future. Stupid plans, really, but goals are at the core of getting anywhere in this world.