The fish winked at him. Or so it seemed to him as he watched the silvery bundle of life work its way through the gaping hole in the net. Fuming with anger, Sunil reined in the sagging piece of equipment and threw it on the deck. He was getting too old for this, he thought, not for the first time. His tired eyes fell upon the lad at the wheel, whistling away carelessly. Sunil frowned at his son and a flurry of words flew forth that made a few seagulls squawk in alarm. The wind would turn soon, he knew, and he did not want his family going hungry again.

The boy had almost fixed the net when the little black radio onboard crackled to life. “Crrr-pfffff-catchaaa”, it declared importantly. Sunil glared at the radio suspiciously before kneeling to twist the knob around to make the gibberish more intelligible. A newscaster informed them of an earthquake in the Bay of Bengal in a controlled, professional tone that was yet lined with fear.  Too late to turn back, the father and son braced for whatever might come. A silent half-hour passed before the trawler was yanked further out to sea by an invisible hand. Then came the wave.

Slowly at first and then faster, a wall of sapphire blue paced toward the boat, growing taller as the sleeping sheets of water roused themselves to rally with their angry brethren. The eight-foot-high giant punched the bow with a force that would have capsized the vessel had it not been for the duo’s valiant efforts at the wheel. The wave swept the deck of the boat as it swayed drunkenly, resisting the urge to flip over and embrace the restless waters. Finding the broken net and Sunil’s secret stash of arrack insufficient to satisfy its hunger, the wave soon let them be, rushing towards shore in search of greater treasures.

*****

“1,2,3,4,5…”, she counted carefully in her head and then stopped. There were some windows left to be counted, but Radha’s skills in arithmetic were bounded by the fingers on her left hand. She rubbed her palm on the wet sand and ran it along the battlements to lay on the finishing touches. Stepping back, Radha looked at her creation appraisingly. It was the best one yet, she realized, with a tingle of exhilaration.

She shifted her gaze to her brother, standing a few feet away, talking to some girl he had just met. Typical. Radha rolled her eyes disapprovingly. Her only hope now was that her newest sandcastle would escape the fate of the ones that came before. The tide seemed to yield to her for once, as it crept away from her feet. She watched in wonder as the foamy strip of bubbles retreated far into the horizon, leaving behind an enormous expanse of pale sand. There were fish everywhere, she saw, looking as surprised as she was, struggling to find the ocean that had left them behind. All around her people were running toward the disappearing tide, eager to explore this uncharted territory.

Not long passed before one of the explorers came bolting back, fear etched all over his face. In hot pursuit of the man, was a giant black monster of water, so tall it turned the little beach to darkness under its shadow.  Out of nowhere, a pair of hands scooped her up and carried her off towards the grove of coconut trees that stood guard over the coastline. Radha’s brother was a born climber and had almost shinnied up one of the trees when a deafening sound pounded her eardrums. Radha thought it was like a million people who had held their breath for a minute, letting go all at once. Suddenly, there was water all around her. The sting of salt made her close her eyes as she felt her brother’s arms loosening. He was being pulled away, she realized with horror. It was all she could do to hug the tree tightly as the churning water swept him away, flailing helplessly. Radha opened her mouth to scream.

*****

“Hikkaduwa”, he muttered under his breath. What a weird name. John knew he would forget it, so he had written it down on the back of his hand. He watched the stations fly past, eyes peeled for the elusive Hikkaduwa. He had been lucky to get a seat and the leg space seemed a luxury after the cramped nightmare of economy class. The train was almost full, despite it being a Sunday morning on the day after Christmas. These Sri Lankans must be very busy people indeed.

A basket of snacks appeared over the heads of the jostling passengers and made its way along the aisle. “Isso wade?” inquired the vendor with a weather-beaten grin. Returning the smile, John fished for his wallet. Half an Isso wade later, the train jolted to a halt. A sudden deluge of water was pouring through the doors and into the carriage, swirling in murky black pools around the feet of its bewildered occupants.  It took a moment for understanding to dawn.

The crowd quickly shifted towards the exits, insults erupting with increasing intensity. John could smell the fear in the air as he stepped by to let an old man pass. A pair of feet appeared on the window sill and promptly disappeared, their owner propelling himself onto the roof. Many people followed suit, and soon the thuds of feet on the roof were only rivaled by the screams of passengers fighting to escape the flooding carriage.

John was facing seaward and his heart leaped in his throat as he saw the wave. Taller than the tallest of trees on the beach, it climbed into the sky effortlessly and with a thunderous roar, began its inevitable descent. For some mysterious reason, his parents’ faces flashed before his eyes, the home in Torquay he grew up in, and how the tide used to gobble up the perfect sandcastles his father made on the beach.

The next thing he knew, his world was toppling head over heels as the wave picked up the carriage like an angry child would pick up a toy train, and smashed it against the houses lining the track. Sweeping aside everything that dared to stand in its way, the tsunami marched inland. And, its hunger finally appeased, innocently oblivious to the carnage on the little island, the ocean gently lapped at the pebbles on the beach.

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