A month back I had left Bangkok on two day’s notice. The flood waters were flowing towards Bangkok. As it engulfed the old airport area, the government complex, the already tense Bangkok-ians panicked. I was advised by my colleagues to stock up on dry food and water. The shelves at the super-markets emptied at a very fast rate. Next, the government announced a five day holiday to enable the people in Bangkok to prepare for the floods. All people who could take refuge in other provinces were advised to do so. My colleagues advised me to leave and within the next 48 hours I was on a flight to Delhi.
I returned yesterday. As I glanced down from the airplane, I could still see water everywhere. Sandbags are still outside the houses. Today as I entered my office, the first person I met was my senior colleague, a very senior lawyer who on a week day is always in formal attire – dressed very casually, with his shirt not tucked in and a salt and pepper beard on his chin. His office and house is still under water. He and his family have been living out of an apartment since the last one month. One of the first things he said to me was – that his collection of around 200 books had got destroyed. The shelves that he had stacked them on could not bear the weight and had crashed into the water. He has decided to grow a beard till he can return to his home. Other friends have temporarily moved in with other colleagues. Some are busy cleaning up after the waters receded from their homes. The stagnant water has left behind residue that is not easy to wash away. Colleagues who had temporarily migrated to other provinces to escape the floods are slowly returning to the city.
Today someone said that our office and apartment were saved from the floods because a well known nightclub cum hotel happens to be located nearby. The hotel is supposedly owned by some powerful people. The flood waters had reached the intersection but did not cross the traffic lights and advance towards the hotel.
I opened the door of my apartment and was reminded of the condition in which I had left for Delhi. The mental exhaustion of the past weeks had expressed itself in fever. I was shivering and sweating the same time I was packing. Things that I had planned to take with me to Delhi were still waiting in neat piles. I had omitted to pack them. There was a bowl of cooked rice in the fridge – now covered with a thick layer of feathery fungus. A packet of tomatoes had somehow turned into a red liquid. Leafy vegetables were – no longer leafy. And there was lots of stored water.
My ‘flood supplies’ of wheat biscuits, corn-flakes and soy milk came to my rescue as I cleaned and scrubbed.
Today, there were other colleagues as well who returned to office after a long time. So, it was back to flood talk – recounting experiences, exchanging news. But the worst has passed. The tension was not there. We celebrated our return with dinner and wine and stories about work, broken hearts and … floods. After dinner we went to the super-market but did not buy anything – the price of vegetables and fruits seemed very high, much higher than usual. It would be cheaper to buy from the street vendor.
Such is life – its different shades woven together so intricately. And to live it – one just has to accept it all…
Was it Mr. Somchai, in mourning? How sad . I am really sorry for him. Are we heading for survival against nature’s fury? Why couldn’t the water be not released into the sea. When our maid sunanda lamented that floods destroyed her daughter’s trousseau, I thought that was the fate of the poor, but you see no one is spared.
Awwwwwwwwwwwwww.