THE EMERALD ISLAND

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Remembering Tsunami is traumatic; one would always try to forget that. But how does one do that? Especially for those who have seen the beauty ravaged. Campbell Bay is no more the same island I saw then; The Pygmallion Point is now submerged. It is a place I had to pedal my way up to, ignoring the leaking sky and the rivulets in spate, the scree hurdles and the sea walls treacherously eroded, and at the end of the day when I could make it, it was an experience to recount. The same island is now lost much of its beauty. I'd love to revisit the island for the third time in my life.

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THE EMERALD ISLAND

W here cuckoos sing in November

Between thin spells of tickling drizzle,

The sky bends to whisper

Her endless sweet gossips,

The hungry waves rush in columns

To lick and relish the sparkling pebbles,

The shadow saunters by in lazy lull

Playing peek-a-boo with one and all,

There, the cool emerald island

Sings and sways

Just under the charcoal sky,

Call her just Campbell Bay.

She loves to be in close embrace

Of everyone that really matters—

The naughty surf and goody sand

The sylvan errand on leafy bed;

The moon hides her powdered face

Shy, behind the cloud blankets;

The moist smell wanders aimless

Building moods of delightful languor,

There, the enchanting island

Keeps humming the mellifluous tunes

In moments of ever contentment,

Call her just Campbell Bay.

The vast playground of fun and frolic

Where turtles rush for baby-sitting,

Building a sand castle in dexterous mould

Where megapode awaits her cheery offspring,

Banishing anxiety from worldly trifles

Where dolphins somersault playfully smiling,

Hopping crazily from branch to branch

Where primates rule the surroundings,

There, the enthralling island of the Bay

Lives on and on since the prehistoric days

Afloat on the ageless waves

Call her just Campbell Bay.

Away from darling home

A thousand of miles behind,

Hungry poor sells his sweat

For a bowlful of smelly rice,

Saves through his untiring years

A score of hundreds pies together,

His longing eyes fail to fathom

The length of waiting- endless forever,

There, the enigmatic island

Sobs for ages —every day

Singing songs of inspiring melancholy

Call her just Campbell Bay.

Here God gracious lives in jungle

On tumultuous surface of the Bay of Bengal,

In the sweat and tear of a toiling soul

Who had left Jharkhand before years a score,

Still slogging for a thousand bucks

Content with his Handi* a Rupee a mug,

A day would soon dawn in his life

He would foot the bill for his homecoming,

Here lies the Emerald Island

A little beyond the scary channel

Braving wave after wave

Call her just Campbell Bay.

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ON BOARD M . V . SENTINEL FROM CAMPBELL BAY TO PORT BLAIR

27 / 11 / 1996

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By

A. N. Nanda

Muzaffarpur

27-12-2009

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