COLUMN

GOOD WORD

Sabin Iqbal sabin.iqbal@gmail.com

It was a nightmare. The worst floods we have had for a long while. I mean, not in 100 years!

THE SHAPE OF WATER: FROM CLARA’S EYELASHES TO SURGING PERIYAR?

For me, personally, a significant bubble has burst. The bubble of Kerala being insulated from any form of devastating natural calamity, making it a unique place to live, which in the long bargain makes its people a tad lazy, cosy, potbellied rice-eaters of good-weather fellows.

Rains and Malayalis always have a romantic relationship—be it the monsoon showers keeping its date with the reopening of the schools after the summer break or with Clara, with slender beauty with dark, dreamy eyes dripping raindrops, Padmarajan’s creative contribution to augment Malayali’s hidden notions of amorous fantasy.

We have never looked at the rains as a monster, forget the floods in 1924 or the mighty deluge in the 14th century which is believed to have wiped out Muziris and caused Kochi to emerge. For us, the rains are part of our being alive. The rains, in a way, are our whipping boys. We blame them for everything—we have always found fault with either too much of it or too little of it.

We have long stopped our habit of cultivation. We have found better, albeit more menacing, use for our agricultural tools. We have contributed willingly to the long line of migrant workers—a

THE RAINS, IN A WAY, ARE OUR WHIPPING BOYS. WE BLAME THEM FOR EVERYTHING.

unique set of labour force who turn their blood into sweat once they cross their borders but seldom work at home. Let’s blame it on the rains—for making us a luxuriant people, a temporary people, an incorrigibly argumentative, politically hyperactive, conservatively

progressive people, who love any degree of pointless discussion, debates and deliberations of party politics. The rains have also made us imbeciles and wool-gatherers who have been hoodwinked by the unscrupulous for their habitual acts of looting.

In fact, what’s Kerala, especially in comparison with other states beyond the Ghatts? A sliver of fragile land, tucked between the Sahyadri range and the coast of the Arabian Sea. Do we matter, if not for our globetrotting adventures? It has to be assumed that when the Yavanas and the Chinese travellers came more than 3000 years ago, our geographical shape would have been different. We as a people would have been different in our behavioural patterns and cultural moorings. As some one wrote, we are more of water than of land. We are a patina of people on the water. One of the books which have fascinated me recently is Deepak Unnikrishnan’s Temporary People, a spellbinding account of the lives of non-

resident Malayalis in the Gulf. The book won many awards for its diction and daring attempt to redefine novel as a form. Having lived in the Gulf for more 15 years, I have always held Malayalis in the Gulf as a unique set of people. Nowhere in the world will you find such a community of selfless people who are neither there nor here. Truly, temporary people.

The floods have proved that we are ‘temporary people’ even in our own land. It takes just a couple of weeks of nonstop rains, and we are a goner! No home, no food, not even drinking water. And, not even a ‘national disaster’ recognition. We’re just persona non WE HAVE PUSHED OURSELVES TO THE EDGE OF THE PRECIPICE. WE HAVE FILLED THE AIR WITH THE HOLLOW DECIBELS OF VAINGLORY AND PUFFED UP PRIDE.

grata in our own land.

As we say, it is crises that bring forth character. In the wake of the worst natural calamity to wreak havoc in the state, we have stood together, lending a helping hand. Not to forget, the millions of Indians across the country and the globe, including the Indian cricket team, who have shown that even though man has fallen on many counts, there is still a place in his heart where the light of the divine is preserved. Never to miss, the hundreds of fishermen who came in with their boats and rescued hundreds, if not thousands. It’s a story worth global publication.

It is not easy months that lie ahead. For the government and for the people, there are manifold challenges. A general election is looming large, and let’s see how the cunning turn the situations around for their benefit.

Or, should we run an introspection? Isn’t right that we have gone too far in our games of hatred and polarisation? Haven’t we stretched ourselves in our affronts to common good, to harmony. Haven’t we begun to celebrate hate, violence and murder? Haven’t we, somehow, begun to judge our neighbour, and hate him or her? Beef killing, honour killing, party killing, freedom killing…?

Yes, we have. Yes, yes. We have pushed ourselves to the edge of the precipice. We have filled the air with the hollow decibels of vainglory and puffed up pride.

Sorry. It took only a couple of weeks of torrential rains to make us realise that the distance between Clara’s desirous eyelashes and the surging waters of Periyar is just a blink.

But we will come back. We have shown the resolve and resilience to fight the odds, and kill the snakes that creep in after the floods. We will wipe our houses clean. The only wish is, in the process can we scrub our hearts clean of all hatred? Say, yes!

Sabin Iqbal is a Thiruvananthapurambased senior journalist. He writes on culture, sports and business.