Arrest Zulfi--Rescue from high water!
By: Rajbir Deswal
The Yamuna was in spate. The ravaging fury of gushing and gurgling waters presented an awesome sight. The spill had inundated areas even beyond the man-made banks and, for miles around it was nothing short of a sea in itself.
Incessant rains made matters worse. Anxious villagers had gathered on a comparatively safer lagoon. A female voice vyed with thundering clouds in wailing, for her husband (and my friend) Zulfi who was marooned two kilometers down the swollen river. How to save Zulfi and bring him ashore, was the question.
It was a dark night. In the normal course of its flow, the Yamuna maintained a definite channel and on either side were the fields with standing crops. Zulfi’s six bigha plot was their with a thatch roof hut, a buffalo, two goats, a dog, a cat and some half-a-dozen chickens.
For months altogether, Zulfi wouldn’t come to the village and preferred staying on his plot. On that fateful evening, the water started engulfing the surrounding area, beyond the normal course. Zulfi could have fled to safety, but he stayed put like a sinking ship’s captain, to be with his buffalo, cat, goats, dog and chickens, without their being even aware of Zulfi’s camaraderie. Fleeing farmers around beckoned Zulfi, but to no avail.
As SOS was sent through the flood station wireless and the District Magistrate himself reached the spot with his Superintendent of Police. No standard rescue operation strategies seemed to work when a couple of cops offered to go in deep currents. Two more volunteers opted to run the risk with an equal number of villagers.
The DM sent for long ropes, torches, life-buoys and a walkie-talkie. A make-shift boat was prepared, with an inflated tractor-tyre tube on which a huge cow dung cake basket was kept and tied. Half the village youths exhausted their lungs in inflating the tube. The rescue party left amid ‘bon voyage’ from those present there. For sometime, the voices of the eight rescuers were heard but later on, it was only the rattling currents, spelling disastrous moods in the ‘boiling’ river that were heard.
The villagers arranged for cots and hot milk for the DM and SP. Everyone had his fingers crossed and Zulfi’s wife became a little calmer. Yet, with every lightning flash, scribbling ‘doom’ on the dark skies, her heart filled with gloom.
One full hour of anxious wait and none spoke except whispering once in a while, “Isn’t it too late! They should’ve returned by now.” Although putting their hearts to the operation of rescuing Zulfi, the villagers were engaged in cursing him. The DM and the SP, in their rain-coats, looked more worried since they had risked eight more lives.
Suddenly a light surfaced, twinkling on the waves. A villager shouted, “They are there!” More joined him yelling, “Yes, it’s them all right!” but just as suddenly, the light disappeared. Those on the shore were crest-fallen. Again some sounds were heard. This time, more clearly. Lanterns started glowing with lengthened wicks and torch beams were focused horizontally on the water surface. The group was in sight returning to the shore.
Many villagers plunged in knee-deep water and patted the rescuers on their backs. In the state-of-the art, boat, was sitting, sheepish Zulfi with his goats, dog, cat, and chicks—all seemingly frozen. The buffalo looked on nonchalantly! The DM and the SP hugged each other, “A hundred pet cent successful operation!” the DM exclaimed and the SP said, “Bravo, my boys!” Then all of a sudden, the villagers gheraoed the officers, shouting “Huzoor, whenever there is a flood warning in future, please arrest warning in future, please arrest Zulfi in advance.
The Yamuna was in spate. The ravaging fury of gushing and gurgling waters presented an awesome sight. The spill had inundated areas even beyond the man-made banks and, for miles around it was nothing short of a sea in itself.
Incessant rains made matters worse. Anxious villagers had gathered on a comparatively safer lagoon. A female voice vyed with thundering clouds in wailing, for her husband (and my friend) Zulfi who was marooned two kilometers down the swollen river. How to save Zulfi and bring him ashore, was the question.
It was a dark night. In the normal course of its flow, the Yamuna maintained a definite channel and on either side were the fields with standing crops. Zulfi’s six bigha plot was their with a thatch roof hut, a buffalo, two goats, a dog, a cat and some half-a-dozen chickens.
For months altogether, Zulfi wouldn’t come to the village and preferred staying on his plot. On that fateful evening, the water started engulfing the surrounding area, beyond the normal course. Zulfi could have fled to safety, but he stayed put like a sinking ship’s captain, to be with his buffalo, cat, goats, dog and chickens, without their being even aware of Zulfi’s camaraderie. Fleeing farmers around beckoned Zulfi, but to no avail.
As SOS was sent through the flood station wireless and the District Magistrate himself reached the spot with his Superintendent of Police. No standard rescue operation strategies seemed to work when a couple of cops offered to go in deep currents. Two more volunteers opted to run the risk with an equal number of villagers.
The DM sent for long ropes, torches, life-buoys and a walkie-talkie. A make-shift boat was prepared, with an inflated tractor-tyre tube on which a huge cow dung cake basket was kept and tied. Half the village youths exhausted their lungs in inflating the tube. The rescue party left amid ‘bon voyage’ from those present there. For sometime, the voices of the eight rescuers were heard but later on, it was only the rattling currents, spelling disastrous moods in the ‘boiling’ river that were heard.
The villagers arranged for cots and hot milk for the DM and SP. Everyone had his fingers crossed and Zulfi’s wife became a little calmer. Yet, with every lightning flash, scribbling ‘doom’ on the dark skies, her heart filled with gloom.
One full hour of anxious wait and none spoke except whispering once in a while, “Isn’t it too late! They should’ve returned by now.” Although putting their hearts to the operation of rescuing Zulfi, the villagers were engaged in cursing him. The DM and the SP, in their rain-coats, looked more worried since they had risked eight more lives.
Suddenly a light surfaced, twinkling on the waves. A villager shouted, “They are there!” More joined him yelling, “Yes, it’s them all right!” but just as suddenly, the light disappeared. Those on the shore were crest-fallen. Again some sounds were heard. This time, more clearly. Lanterns started glowing with lengthened wicks and torch beams were focused horizontally on the water surface. The group was in sight returning to the shore.
Many villagers plunged in knee-deep water and patted the rescuers on their backs. In the state-of-the art, boat, was sitting, sheepish Zulfi with his goats, dog, cat, and chicks—all seemingly frozen. The buffalo looked on nonchalantly! The DM and the SP hugged each other, “A hundred pet cent successful operation!” the DM exclaimed and the SP said, “Bravo, my boys!” Then all of a sudden, the villagers gheraoed the officers, shouting “Huzoor, whenever there is a flood warning in future, please arrest warning in future, please arrest Zulfi in advance.
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