26th December 2025, marks the completion of
21 years of the most horrific and traumatic tsunami in 2004. The old footage
showing glimpses of its wrath is more than enough to give one chills down the
spine. This catastrophe was not only a reminder of the raw force of nature, but
also a violent assertion of its authority in this world, where we humans
believe that we are inevitable.
While natural disasters like tsunami might put humans
on their knees, nature does not need a tsunami all the time to declare its
superiority. In fact, it always warns us of its power every time we try to toy
with it.
Once, on my tour to the eastern shores of India, I
witnessed its furious warnings right up close. I always had an adventurous
spirit that whenever I saw a natural scenic landscape, the adventurism in me spiked
up. I carried on the same enthusiastic spirit to the shores of the Manapad Sea
in Tamil Nadu. Manapad is a beautiful coastal scenery painted with a
magnificent, old, Portuguese era church; a tall, sturdy lighthouse; and some seductive
sand cliffs. Behind those, lies a calm, pleasant, and quiet-looking sea, waiting
to play with its tourists. Generally, you can enjoy its warmth by taking a dip.
But, if you intend to challenge its authority, it no longer remains calm.
After visiting the church and the lighthouse, I
reached the shores. And by that time, the dusk started to engulf the light in
the sky. I reached the breakwater where large boulders of rocks were lined up
along the seashore to prevent coastal erosion. They said, besides that, the
breakwater also acts as a seawall, preventing the seawater from flooding the fishermen’s
village.
Instantly, my adventurous spirit tingled me to begin my
journey to the tip of the breakwater. The path was obviously wet and at times,
slippery. The sea wall narrowed as we went forward. But beyond the middle of it,
people dared to walk further, given the night had almost begun to hide the dusk.
Still, I wanted to test my grit. I wanted to stand at the tip of the breakwater
and yell, “I am the best!” So, despite all their warnings, I marched forward
like a seasoned warrior alone into the battlefield.
I was now away from the shore by about hundred meters.
Suddenly, I stopped as I felt something different. The wind that hit me, felt like
it was blowing in a hurry, as if it was terrified of something, something that was
chasing it to the shores. It seemed like the wind rushed to take refuge behind
the church. What followed was not any ordinary hunter, but the Mother Ocean
herself.
Her mild love tap triggered a violent wave that hit those
boulders like a meteor and splashed the water across the sky. That roaring sound was
like a bomb blast which sent tremors across my heart. Slowly, the loud voices
of warnings by the people from the shores faded. A very deep, dense, and
dreadful voice, from the other side of the seawall, hit my ears. It was that of
the Mother Ocean. She assertively whispered in my ears, “STAY BACK!” I stood,
stunned like a deer in the headlights. Eventually, I retreated to the shores.
That was the moment I realized the true, raw,
unglamorous form of nature which is generally not captured by primitive photography.
To this day, whenever I hear some disasters on the news, I used to recall her
terrible voice that reminds me that I am no greater than nature.
However brave we are, whatever preparations we make,
whatsoever fancy technologies we may invent, when nature wants us down, it will
humble us in no time. I truly pray for all those who suffered in that terrible
2004 tsunami. While the dead rested in peace, we–the ones who survived–are destined
to live humbly, carrying the painful memory etched in our hearts.
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