Lost to Sea

Lost to Sea

By Bharati Rose

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My father and elder brother were the pride of our small fishing community that was situated near the sea. We lived in a small hut made by my father and his kin. It wasn’t the best place to live, but it was home. Most of our meals consisted of the leftover fish stock my father could not sell to the buyer. In our spare time my mother and I made necklaces out of the seashells we collected on the banks to bring in a bit more money.

My father and brother would ritually head out at dawn each week with their band of fellow fishermen to score the seas for fine fish that we could sell to feed our stomachs. I always awoke up extra early to wish them luck and a safe journey and waited at the same dock to receive them in a warm embrace. I envied the privilege my brother had to travel out to sea with my father in his massive fishing boat. I could only imagine his elation at being by our father’s side. Father was a remarkable man liked by everyone in the community. He was the fairest of the fisherman when it came to business. Very few could beat his prices without suffering a loss themselves. To those who did not know him he would appear only as a dark skinned, wrinkled old man with a balding head. Those who loved him never missed the glint of mirth in his eyes and youthfulness in his stride. He was my hero. The vast sea was his treasure.

The sea was everything to us mostly because it was everything to him. I still remember the tales he would tell us of his adventures with his own father, learning to fish. Reeling his first fish in had been the most unforgettable moment of his life in his eyes. My mother’s anxiousness every time my father set out to sea was only dispelled by the boyish grin my father wore as he would wave to us.

My father managed to pass done his affection for the sea to me. Sitting near the bedrocks, watching the gentle waves crash against the boulders was one of my favorite activities during the day. Like the natives of North America who revered the sun and the earth, we worshiped the sea, our greatest provider. In my eyes there, nothing could surpass the abundance of love the gentle sea showed to our fishing community.

So I was perplexed when everything I believed to be true was called into question. Like every other day my father had set out, not in the least finding anything amiss with the sea. The sea was calm as a sleeping infant when he departed. I had not yet risen when he did depart and could not wish him farewell. I was informed by my mother that he had left. I mourned the lost opportunity to wish him luck. Helping my mother in cooking our morning meal I was alarmed at the high pitched squeal of a fisherman’s wife. Sticking my head out to see what all the commotion was about I was able to witness the sea in one of its biggest tantrums. Water had risen well above our height and advancing towards everyone in a vicious bound. I couldn't tear my eyes from the seas waves as they surged forward threatening to annihilate everyone and everything in its path.

In the distance I could hear the endless wail of a small infant. I could vaguely sense someone tugging at my arm to get me out of the hut. My mother clutched my hand and began to run towards a rich buyer’s house that was nearby. Stopping at the foot of a massive tree she demanded that I climb. I climbed the tree with great difficulty, scraping my knee against the bark in the attempt. At the top of the tree I sat on a sturdy branch hugging the trunk for balance. Looking down I could not see my mother. I felt like crying. She could not be seen anywhere.

Then it was all over before I could blink. I felt moisture seep into the seams of my dress at the ridges. I could feel it surround my legs in passing. Water was all around us. I closed my eyes in fright.

I don’t recall who found me in that tree several hours later or how I got sent to a tsunami relief camp in Rameshwaram, India. Yet I can vividly paint you a picture of the sea II had worshiped in a fit of rage. It took away my home. It took away my family. It took away my very identity.

No one understood my anger with the sea. They thought I had lost my sanity as I ran along the edge of the sea throwing verbal abuses at it, flinging everything in my path into the water. Yet they did not know the betrayal I felt at having a trusted friend take away from me everything that I possessed. I was penniless, homeless and pitied by others. With the help of the tsunami relief fund I had cremated my mother’s lifeless body and delivered the passage of rights but refused to immerse her ashes into the sea. My community thought me odd. The sea devil had already taken the bodies of my father and elder brother which were forever lost to me. I would not give it the satisfaction of claiming my mother as well.

Being adopted by an elderly couple I was able to shift to Colombo. I left the life of the fishing community behind me entirely. The pain from having lost every last member of my family has still not lessened any even today.

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Publication Date: 11-20-2012

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