Sea – A Raw Force of Nature

26^th 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.

My Pity Parotta Story

Every time I see a parotta on my plate, its yummy-gummy smell invokes a wet, unfortunate, yet enlightening incident in my life that introduced me to this practical world. It happened on a fine afternoon when I was enthusiastically returning home from my college. I boarded the bus and reached the first stop from which I had to walk to the next stop to board another bus to my home. This is where the story begins….

 After getting smashed by an unreasonably hasty crowd on an unsurprisingly overcrowded city bus, I somehow managed to get out, battling my way through the onslaught of the on-boarders, who vigorously compete for the bus seat as it is strictly occupied on a first-come-first-basis – corruption not tolerated!

As I started to walk through the fruit market to the next bus stand, a droopy old man approached me. He was in terrible clothes, had a shabby old yellow bag in between his armpit, and stared with half-closed blackish eyes – almost looked as if he had forgotten to sleep for some hundred years. The moment I saw him, it invoked the utmost pity in me. Then he pleaded to me in a feeble old voice, “Child, I have not eaten for days. I came here from a nearby city in search of a job and ended up with none. I don't want your money. Buy me some food, child. You will be blessed. Please, please….”

Definitely, he touched my heart. That moment, Mother Teresa, Gandhi, and many national leaders flew across my mind, tingling my skin. So, I decided to help him and took him to a nearby hotel. I asked him to sit while I was standing near the counter to pay.

As I turned, I watched him approaching the food table. To my surprise, the once shaky legs and drooping body vanished. He strutted like a peacock towards the table. As he sat on the chair, his sleepless eyes got brightened. His shaky hands became steady. He just stylishly swung his wrist with a swagger of a superstar, making a trishul mudra showing three fingers. And with a firm voice, he ordered, “Three parottas.” For a moment, I wondered, “Was this the same feeble, saggy old man I met a few moments ago?” Little dazzled and confused, I paid for him and left for my home.

Then, I slowly narrated this whole incident to my father. I pointed out how that old man's sudden change in body language inside that hotel shocked me. I wasn't sure if I was deceived for showing mercy. Hearing all this, my father calmly replied, “My child, I'm glad you weren't kind enough to donate your clothes to him.” With a grin, he continued, “Welcome to the real world. You have a long way to go!”

My Costly Overrated Witty Plan

After a long, warm meet-up with my no-time-wasting, Insta-scrolling friends, it was time for me to go back home. Bidding a half-hearted bye-bye to my mates, I got onto my half-rusted, semi-braked, fully battle-tested bicycle. Just a few steps from the gate, I started to feel as if I was pulling a rickshaw loaded with a polygamic nuclear family. Puzzled, I looked down at my back tyre. Yes, you guessed it right, a typical, ever-re-laid road problem of our smart cities – a flat tire.

But, when you're standing near a parking lot where your friend's scooty is parked, this is not really a real problem. But calling a friend for help is an old, usual, and an obvious option. I’m a clever-witted youth with firing neurons running across my exceptional brain. How can a nerd like me choose a commoner’s obvious route when my wit is dying to devise for me an extraordinarily genius plan?

So, I obeyed my brain, cast out the casual outdated idea to call for help, and prepared a perfect plan. The plan was to go find the nearest repair shop to fix my punctured wheel at that time, 10 o'clock on Sunday night. Clever, isn't it? So I started walking my bicycle towards the repair shop in the end of the street. Surprisingly, the shop was closed. How in the world can they close a shop in this ever-awake, sleepless city? They must know they are losing sincere customers like me.

Alright, plan B in action. My nudging brain advised me to find the nearest petrol bunk to refill the punctured tyre. Again, I abided by it. Continuing my intelligently-adventurous journey, I walked my bicycle a few more steps. Suddenly, my neurons tingled me. It suggested, ‘why not ride the cycle? Just one flat tyre. Still have an intact steel rim, right?’ Abiding to its words without a second thought, I sat on my cycle and started pedaling. Despite the friction between the road and the rim signaling me with its sparks, my unwavering commitment to my witty brain kept me focused. But just a few meters from there, unexpectedly, my front tyre burst off.

What an unfortunate misfortune! What exploded more aggressively than the tyre was my witty brain. What went wrong? I hoped that the repair shop would be open. I hoped that the petrol pump had an air pump. I hoped they would accept to air up my bicycle tyre with that, which I know, was very risky. I also hoped it would inflate my punctured tyre without leaks. It was deeply depressing to see how such a hopeful, smart and sophisticated plan splattered apart in no time.

While all these thoughts and emotions were battering my mind, my genius brain pricked me, yet again. This time, it asked me to jog my cycle in search of the next nearest tyre shop. If closed, it asked me to jog home. But, I am not falling for its sugary stupidity, yet again. I abruptly shut it off and revived the traditional, casual and common option – to call my friend for help. So, I parked my bicycle back in the parking lot. Then, my friend drove me home in scooty and promised to get my bicycle repaired.

The next day, I got a call from my friend that the cycle was ready and continued, ‘the puncture costs Rs. 50. But the replacement of the burst off tyre costs Rs. 450 more. Total Rs. 500.’ I thanked my mate and cut off the call. Staring at the slow-rotating ceiling fan, I grinned at how my brilliant brain had just cost me 10 times more than a simple phone call!

If you have similar experiences in life, do share them in the comments section below!