The Tsunami-Tamer Of Nicobar Islands Poem by Rajendran Muthiah

On the southern tip of Great Nicobar Island
away from a hamlet of some highland,
they walked and saw a lot of nesting turtles
and slept there for the night in the breeze that hurtles.
A deadly earthquake of scale, massive
shook the beach that was in slumber passive;
Woke them up in that rising dawn
and made them feel dizzy in that fateful morn.
They clung to a Peepul tree
and saw the land sinking into the engulfing sea.

To browse the nesting patterns of the turtles giant,
a wildlife biologist came to that place quaint.
Assisted him, Agu of the Andaman tribe
and about four bird-watchers, no one would jibe;
and two forest guards in remote islands to guide
Were looking for the turtles, and made a stride.
The trees ahead by a high wall of water snapped
and with terrible speed and force, the land was wrapped.
It was twenty sixth December, two thousand four
and a muddy giant wave knocked down the Peepul ashore.

A swirling wave swept over Agu
and the whereabouts of his companions, he had no cue.
Swallowing muddy water, he gasped for breath.
Whisking away the trees, the sea loomed and seemed death.
Being pulled under water, he hit against the trees
and ripped off his clothes, for his body to freeze.
His collarbone and some ribs cracked and broke
yet clambered on to a flotsam looking for his folk.
Not a human soul there was in sight
and the hope of reaching home took to flight.
There was raining all the night
and the flating debris made him fright.
The jungle had turned into the sea.
Could He come down to heed his plea?
He rested and regained strength to swim to land
but it was off to reach without a magic wand.
He saw helicopters circling above
but his waving hands they didn't see somehow.
The crocodiles, lizards and snakes were on the free run.
but a monkey riding on a floating tree made some fun.
His prayers kept him hale and hearty
and to lose hope of survival, he wasn't a party.
Tiny sips of muddy water to him was the food
and to swim to the shore, he began to brood.

With several breaks, at last he crawled ashore
and waded into the forest with thoughts to live more.
He quenched his thirst at a freshwater spring
and trod for three days in the terrain to fling
himself on a highland village
after sixteen days, a meal to make a pillage.
Some known men there gave him parota and potato curry
and a search team airlifted him to Port Blair in a hurry.
From the clutches of tsunami, he has escaped
but he feels painful to speak of others entrapped.