SCALE (3)

It was still light by the time the storm died out. All their neighbours were outside, surveying the destruction. Part fearful and part wondering, they looked like those arrived on a new planet. 

Flowerpots in most balconies had turned into debris, a woman's nightdress had flown off the clothesline and now hung from an electricity pole. Vanquished trees lay on their sides, surrounded by the rubble of brick walls they had crashed against. Like any survivor, the earth looked exhausted but proud.

Soon, everyone learnt that not all localities had been as lucky as theirs. Somewhere, three people lay buried beneath a collapsed bus shelter. Several had been electrocuted by live wires while hurrying home to safety. This will make it to the evening news on television, the little girl's mother remarked to no one in particular. It made the little girl anxious, it had been two years since the mining disaster, the only time their dusty little town had made it to the news telecast from Calcutta. 

Once power was restored, she waited for the news bulletin. She felt a similar trepidation when question papers were handed out in her school's examination halls.

When those fifteen minutes came to an end, she sat with her mother and sulked. It was kind of last minute, her mother said, blaming the storm for its inconvenient timing. She felt they would have all the news by the next day, maybe some footage too. 

The next evening, the little girl felt more confident of the situation. Her hands were no longer clammy nor did her heart feel heavy and dull. She endured the speeches and meetings, road accidents and football matches. When the bulletin ended after the weather forecast, she stayed undefeated. 

She spent the next two hours waiting for the national news, where the logo of the news channel bounced across the map of the country to boisterous music. It was just a summer storm, not a big event, her father tried to reason. She sat through the bulletins in both Hindi and English, finding out about wars in distant lands and cricket in the Caribbeans.

By the third day of the vigil, her parents began to worry and consequently argue. Her father refused to believe the girl was unhappy. The mother sensed the disquiet but could not arrive at the reason. The girl responded to every kind of enticement but nothing could budge her while the news was on. 

Days turned into weeks. All through the day, the walls reverberated with the monotony of the news being read out. As evening crept in, the parents complained of nasty headaches. Fewer people visited now that the house had begun to reek of disappointment. Those that came preferred not to stay long.