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The distant tsunami
 Boxing Day, as the day after
Christmas Day is called in the UK, is traditionally the day in which the
much-awaited winter sales start. People come out in droves to shop to their
heart's content. It is a shopaholic's dream come true, with every store, big and
small, slashing its prices and things once dear available for up to 70 per cent
less.
Not this year.
Boxing Day 2004. As we sat in
the comfort of our homes in far off UK, we watched in horror while a massive
wall of water rolled in from the sea and swallowed hapless people and their
homes. Our immediate concern was for our families and we called India to speak
to them and reassure ourselves that the disaster hadn't touched our lives.
As days went by and the
situation seemed to become clearer, we could only watch in absolute stupefaction
at the scale of this catastrophe. Whole villages seemed to have been wiped off
the earth. News was flooding in from all directions about Banda Aceh, Indonesia
and Sri Lanka, which were said to be the worst-hit areas.
We simply couldn't wrap our
minds around this. It just seemed too much to comprehend - the distance from our
homeland and people seemed to make it worse rather than better. We felt rather
guilty, to be out in our car on a nice and clear day, when so much of Asia was
in utter chaos.
 Our meanderings led us into
East Ham, the heart of the Sri Lankan community in the UK. It was a totally
different sight. Black flags were hoisted everywhere, as were black balloons.
Our friendly shop-keepers had faces that told a thousand stories of grief. There
were posters proclaiming 'kanneer anjali' and those that begged for urgent
support.
Even though it was the day
after the disaster, East Ham had rallied around brilliantly. We saw appeals for
funds in every window. One gentleman had even cleared out his mini market
shelves of goods, his livelihood and had filled his store with donations from
everyone. There were bales and bales of black bin bags, filled with clothes,
toys for children, tinned food and medicines. That sight touched my heart.
Since then, prayers have been
held daily in temples, mosques, churches and gurdwaras. Our local Murugan temple
had a special jyothi lit in memory of all those who perished when the waves came
in. Buddhists have set up a centre wherein people can visit and drop in their
donations. There was even a special service held in Westminster (http://www.westminster-abbey.org/).
 And that's not all. Every High
Street shop, bank and post office, sported a flyer for tsunami relief. There
were buckets for collection in every shop window. Oxfam had a long line of
people flocking in to drop off clothes and whatever else they could. It seemed
that Britain had taken the plight of the tsunami victims to her heart and its
people didn't hesitate to contribute to its relief efforts.
To this date, the British
public have donated £ 76 million. And counting.
If the disaster has struck so
close to home for the Desi population, the other members of the British nation
haven't actually escaped scot-free. Around 440 Britons are dead and/or are
missing. Though these numbers seem small next to the loss of the countries
pummeled by the killer waves, it still makes those suffering feel the pain of
the millions left bereft of everything.
We may be miles away, in
apparent comfort and safety, but our thoughts are with every single one of the
victims of the tsunami.
Map picture courtesy Yahoo!
Beach indiavarta.com
Relief efforts AFP and yahoo.com
Lavanya
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