Kolkata: Four days before Amphan hit us, a colleague at Odisha Bytes forwarded me a WhatsApp post.
It said — Stay Safe Kolkata: Joint Typhoon Warning Centre (JTWC) says Cyclonic Storm will make landfall “just southeast of Kolkata”. It sounded ominous, and I shared it with family members and some close friends. But truth be told, none of us took that warning too seriously.
We had experienced Cyclone Aila 11 years ago and Bulbul last year, both of which had caused substantial damage in East Medinipur, South 24 Parganas and North 24 Parganas. Kolkata, too, had been affected, but took them in stride and got back on its feet before long. This Amphan couldn’t possibly be more severe than Aila and Bulbul!
How wrong we were.
The wake-up call came when the state government, acting on the advice of the Meteorological department, ordered all shops and offices to be closed on May 20 and advised people to strictly stay indoors.
It was then that the spine-chilling realization dawned on us. This monster, after making landfall near Sundarbans at a wind speed touching up to 180 kmph, was predicted to pass through Kolkata, lashing the capital city with heavy rain and gales ranging from 110-125 kmph.
And so it did!
For the first time in more than two centuries, Kolkata directly bore the brunt of a very severe cyclonic storm. From around 6 pm to 11.30 pm, Amphan unleashed its fury and terrorized Kolkata.
Glass panes and windows were the first casualty. As the intensity increased, roof shades of smaller buildings flew all over the place, trees and lightposts swayed as if they were dancing in the rain.
I was worried stiff about the corrugated sheets which had been installed a few years ago to cover our terrace. What if they got blown off by this super cyclone and caused damage to life and others’ property?
It was early evening, and the television screen had still not gone blank, internet was working, albeit sporadically, and WhatsApp messages were coming through, conveying bizarre experiences of acquaintances around the city.
A distressed former colleague wrote about a ‘sinking’ feeling as her 15-storied office building swayed with the raging wind. A cousin couldn’t believe his eyes when a tree fell on a car and reduced it to rubble in front of his own eyes.
And then, around 8 pm, everything snapped. We were plunged into darkness, mobile and internet connectivity were lost, the howling wind picked up again after a lull and the rain came down heavier. It made for an eerie setting — something I had never experienced before.
By the time the cyclone had passed, it was close to midnight. We were among the fortunate few to have electricity restored that very night, but that was the only solace.
If Amphan’s fury shook us up on Wednesday, the after-effects hit us just as hard the day after.
Newspapers weren’t delivered, the television remained ‘dead’, mobile phones didn’t work and internet was down. The four ‘pillars’ of communication had been disabled and we were well and truly cut off from the world.
The consequences were discomforting and frustrating — I couldn’t log in for work, my son missed back-to-back college online exams, not to mention inquiring about the safety of near and dear ones either through WhatsApp or by calling.
The terrace presented a glimmer of hope, as the mobile towers got partially activated and a few calls got through, with some luck. But no further ‘luxuries’.
The only way to get an idea of how badly Amphan had impacted the city was to venture out. It was indeed a rude awakening.
There was not a single lane, bylane or main thoroughfare, that I covered by foot, where trees and lightposts had not been uprooted. Wires and cables dangled precariously from almost every nook and corner, temporary shops and party offices had collapsed, boundary walls of standalone houses lay flat, debris of unrecognizable structures blocked roads.
If this was the scenario in an area covering 3 km, I shuddered to visualize the enormity of destruction in the entire city and other affected districts.
A day later, it was heartening to see local volunteers lend a helping hand to Kolkata Municipal Corporation staff and NDRF teams as they engaged in cutting trees and clearing debris. They all had masks on, but coronavirus was far from their mind. Suddenly, it seemed COVID-19 was the lesser of two curses.
