A Final Wave
Mama rushed around us, lifting her sari as she trekked through the creeping water. Pictures floated along with pieces of soggy debris that fell from our fragile walls. One by one those memories–some of me building sand castles, others of mama with her enchanting, pearly smile– plunged into the water, splashing my face again and again. My feet sometimes bobbed up and I struggled to bring them back down. And then, came the racing beats of my heart, matching the constant pace of the drops from above. I didn’t know what to do. In fact, I couldn’t do much. Sweat dripped down my face–or was it the rain?
—
A man-sized opening on the roof provided a path for any incoming water droplets. At first, they didn’t seem so terrible, but one by one, they covered our ankles, knees, and then our waist. I mean, monsoon season usually wasn’t that bad; the water would barely come close to our ankles, too afraid to rise any further. But, this was something different.
I clung to my linen kurta, breezes of chilly air slicing through, it was the only thing I had. Again, I bobbed up, my Mama catching me and leading me out of the house. Even drenched, her smile almost washed away, I still admired her. I didn’t want to lose her.
“We’re heading there.” Mama pointed at a hill in the distance. It seemed quite hard to reach in such a condition.
“Why so far?” I said.
“It’s the only place left.”
Mama sent me first, following my lead while she carried soggy linen bags in her arms. My slippers splashed in the mud, but they still offered some protection from the cold. Mama wasn’t wearing any. I tried not to look back. I tried not to think about our home. I could do that once I was up on that hill.
—
Mama soon arrived and embraced me. Even in the freezing rain, her warmth was still there. Together, we looked down and back. My bones shivered. The ocean swept closer and closer to it – our tiny home, built on the strength of some mud and concrete.
It was our dream to have a little house of our own. Even though it was near Chowpatty Beach’s greedy tides, even though we were in the slums, it was still our dream.
One wave swept by, crashing into its walls.
Then, another wave.
I stuck closer and closer to Mama with each encroachment of water.
A crack rang across the sky as our once cozy home was taken away by the clutches of a single, final wave.
FROM THE AUTHOR:
“After experiencing a record-breaking winter in California, it was about time I worried about the state's upcoming summer weather and ultimately realized how real climate change is. Yet, it was not just me that I was worried about. It was everyone else. With my family's roots stemming from India, I couldn't help but wonder how climate change could affect the dreams of those around us; each one being swept by waves and waves of disaster, one after another.”
©2023 Adwik Chaturvedi
ADWIK CHATURVEDI is a fiction writer from San Gabriel, California. As a student and an Editor-In-Chief of his school's newspaper, he is captivated by the art of creativity and how it can be used to help those around us. Find him on Instagram @adwik_c.