~By Shobha Diwakar

The night was gloomy; the night was dark. Outside, the streetlights as usual had walked away into the silent gloom. Somewhere an owl hooted to claim its presence while the little chirpy birds silently tucked  themselves up to nap softly in their precious nests that held them cozily in their warmth. In the distant, somewhere a donkey, let loose by its masters, brayed and broke the silence once again. The wise owl seated on the windowsill twisted its owlish big eyes penetrating into the ever- growing darkness. The moon and the stars slyly watched the natural events of the earth beneath but stealthily crept back behind the thundering clouds as though afraid to be swallowed up by these nasty roaring clouds that threatened to overpower the entire sky and proclaim their superiority over them.

Param was fast asleep under the cool breeze of the AC that dulled all the noise from outside. Since he worked aggressively for his family and rarely got time to relax, he switched on the TV to watch the happenings of the day. Since the next day was a Sunday, he spent time watching the news about the flooding across the country. The heavy shattering rains  had devoured houses and villages, animals had been swept away by the bulging waves, people struggled to save themselves by seeking refuge on rooftops  while the brave jawans*  who despite danger to their own life were rescuing men, women and children in more than knee deep water. Around midnight he fell asleep in his armchair until a screechy sound woke him up with a start. He looked around but in the raging darkness and spluttering rain outside, and the pattering on the glass panes of the windows, he could see nothing. Thinking that some rat must be busy at his antics, he jumped into his bed, covered himself with a light quilt, as it was now cold, fell asleep once again.

Outside the wild wind howled banging at the doors and windows, lashing its fangs on the trees as the sturdy branches bowed homage to its ferocious anger, yet the relentless efforts of the trembling trees to pacify the temper of the tempestuous wind did not seize. It dug its teeth into them, crashed them to the earth, and harshly trotted away for more destruction. Suddenly with aloud shriek an age- old huge banyan tree croaked and with a wild thud collapsed on the ground with an agonizing groan. The sheltering birds in its large branches crazily chirped and fluttered away in madness to safer zones of the area, finally seeking refuge under the roof tiles. The barking dogs, sensing the danger, curled under their master’s beds while the stray ones took shelter in garages that lay open, perhaps some people had forgotten to close them.

The rains did not stop in fact it pelted down as never before. Param who was asleep woke up with a start. He was sure something was amiss so he got up and flashed the torch, as the silly power was not restored. He murmured, ‘hats off,’ to the power department that was happily cutting off power for days and  months unending under pretence of maintenance, which was never maintained. A slight gush of the wind and there you faced eternal darkness whether day or night. Your efforts to reach them and lodge complaints about power failure always remained futile. If you were lucky to dial the number inevitably  either the phone was engaged or no one bothered to pick it up. The system seemed to have died a un- natural death under incompetent supervision.

Finding his way in the dim light of the torch, Param crept near the window trying to get a hazy glimpse of the outside weather; the rains had not seized although the pattering had softened. He drew aside the curtain and was perplexed; he was sure he had locked the gate but now it stood invitingly open for intruders to walk in. He scratched his head, puzzled whether he had forgotten to latch it after he had parked the car. He put his face against the pane and stared into the gloom. He felt he saw a figure move. Param was now tense. His mind ran a mad race, what should he do, not do? He was alone and there was no hope to see or call anyone in this mad night of pelting rain. He withdrew himself from the window and decided to call the police headquarters. The phone rang incessantly but no one picked it up. He banged it on the cradle and decided to call a next- door neighbor. In hushed tones, Param whispered he suspected someone loitering in the front yard. Harsh (the neighbor), assured him he was coming with a rod and he would give him a signal when he was there.

It was a tense situation as Param waited what seemed to be hours before Harsh signaled. In the meantime, the loitering figure had managed to drag aside a huge pot of croton that was sheltered under the window and had somehow pulled it out of the gate, perhaps in the hope to break open the latch. As he was about to escape Param and Harsh caught him off guard and held him tight but not before, he had got a taste of the rod on his back. By now, the third neighbor had also joined the two and given him a few punches. Once again, they dialed the police and this time the patrolling van shrieked and halted. Of course, the fellow got a bout of hard hammering but to no effect; he would not confess his motive and was handcuffed and locked up to deal with next morning.

Hardened criminals never confess… he pretended he was mad and a drug addict. He created hell in the lock up, however, someone located the fellow’s parents who vouched he was insane and was therefore let off after a severe warning.

Folks beware and remain on guard. Keep safety measures near at hand in case of such emergency.

This is based on a recent true incident

* jawans… soldiers

About the Author:  Dr. Shobha Diwakar lives in Jabalpur, India and retired as the head of English department at C.P. Mahila Mahavidhyalaya, Jabalpur. She has published many research papers, stories, poems and essays in national, international and online journals. She contributes regularly to writerslifeline and Indian Periodical.