In the Floods by Thakazhi Sivasankara Pillai: Summary and Analysis
In the Floods - Introduction
“In the Floods” (originally “Vellapokkathil”),
written in 1935 and translated
into English by P.P. Raveendran, is a powerful short story
by Thakazhi Sivasankara Pillai, one of the most prominent writers of Malayalam
literature. The story based is based on the author's personal experiences
during the Great Flood of 1924 in Kerala. The story is set in the flood-prone rural areas of Kerala
and vividly portrays the devastating impact of natural disasters on human life.
Through a simple yet deeply moving narrative, the author highlights themes
of survival, human suffering, and social inequality. The story is especially
known for its emotional focus on a helpless dog that is left behind during the
flood, symbolizing abandonment and the harsh realities of life.
Thakazhi uses realism and sensitivity to depict not only the physical
destruction caused by floods but also the moral and emotional dilemmas faced by
people in times of crisis. The story stands as a critique of social hierarchy
and human selfishness, making it both a humanitarian and socially relevant
work.
In the Floods - Summary
The temple stands on the highest ground in the town, yet even there the
deity is submerged up to the neck in floodwater. Water stretches endlessly in
every direction. The villagers have all fled in search of safer land, and those
with boats have left someone behind to watch over their homes. At the temple,
three upper rooms shelter 67 children, 356 adults, and domestic animals—dogs,
cats, goats, hens, and more. Despite the overcrowding and crisis, all of them
remain together in remarkable harmony, without any quarrel.
Chenanparayan had been standing in
water for an entire day and night, as he had no boat to escape. It had already
been three days since his master fled to safety, leaving him behind. As evening
fell and water began seeping into the hut, Chenan hastily constructed a small
platform using coconut fronds and wooden splints. Sitting there, he hoped the
floodwaters would subside within a couple of days. He did not dare abandon the
house, fearing that everything would be stolen in his absence.
But the situation worsened. Water
rose to his knees even on the platform, while the thatched hut lay submerged
under two feet of water. In desperation, Chenan shouted for help, but there was
no one to hear him. With him were a pregnant woman, four children, a cat, and a
dog—all relying entirely on him for survival. A frightening realization struck
him: if the rain continued and water poured down further, the hut would soon be
completely submerged, sealing their fate. The relentless downpour had not
ceased for three days.
Summoning courage, Chenan tore open
a small section of the thatched roof, climbed up, and scanned the surroundings.
At a distance, he spotted a boat moving along the northern side. He shouted
loudly to attract attention. Fortunately, the boatman noticed his plight and
steered towards the hut. One by one, Chenan carefully lifted the children, the
woman, the dog, and the cat into the boat, rescuing them from the rising
floodwaters.
By the time the boat reached the
hut, the children were being helped aboard when a voice called out, “Chenacha…
Hooii!” It was Madianthara Kunjappan shouting from a nearby rooftop. Chenan
quickly assisted his wife into the boat, and the cat leapt in just in time. In
the confusion, however, the dog was forgotten. It wandered restlessly over the
thatched roof, sniffing here and there, as the boat drifted away and soon
disappeared from sight.
The dog returned to the highest
point of the roof and watched as the boat moved farther and farther away.
Realizing it had been left behind, it began to howl—a cry filled with anguish,
almost human in its helplessness. There was no one to hear it. It ran from one
end of the roof to the other, sniffing and whining in distress.
A frog that had been sitting on the
hut, startled by the dog’s cries, leapt into the water. The dog watched the
ripples for a long moment, then resumed its restless searching, perhaps for
food. At one point, a frog brushed past its nose and slipped back into the
water, causing the dog to sneeze and shake its head before rubbing its face
with its hind leg.
Soon, heavy rain began again. The
dog crouched low, enduring the relentless downpour. Its master had already
reached safety at Ambalapuzha, while the abandoned animal remained stranded. As
night fell, a large crocodile drifted near the hut. Terrified, the dog barked
with its tail tucked between its legs, but the crocodile paid no attention and
moved on. Hungry and thirsty, the dog looked up at the dark, clouded sky and
whimpered, its cries echoing across the floodwaters.
Carried by the wind, its mournful
howls might have reached a few compassionate people guarding their homes from
afar. Meanwhile, on safer ground, its master was perhaps preparing his evening
meal, as he used to share a handful of food with the dog. The animal continued
to howl for a long time before gradually quieting down.
From a nearby house to the east, a
man’s voice reciting the Ramayana drifted across the water. The dog grew
still and turned in that direction, as if listening intently. For a while, it remained silent, soothed by the human
voice. But soon, its pain returned, and it began to howl again until its throat
ached. The voice of the recitation mingled with the sounds of the wind and the
waves, creating a haunting stillness.
Exhausted, the dog finally lay down
on the roof, its breathing heavy and uneven. At the slightest movement—a fish
leaping or a frog splashing—it would jump up and bark, then settle again,
restless and uneasy.
At dawn, the dog began to whine
softly once more, its voice filled with longing. Frogs hopped about in the
water, and it watched them absently. The deserted surroundings offered no sign
of life—no smoke rose from any house. Tormented by hunger, the dog snapped at
flies on its body, scratching and shaking itself, trying in vain to drive them
away as it waited helplessly amid the endless flood.
For a brief while, the sun appeared,
and the exhausted dog managed to snatch a little sleep. The shadow of a
plantain leaf swayed gently on the floodwaters. Suddenly, the dog woke and
barked. The sunlight faded again, and in the distance, a boat struggled against
the current. The dog rose, wagging its tail eagerly, watching with desperate
hope. It whimpered softly, but soon the boat disappeared into the coconut
groves.
Rain returned. The dog sat down,
bending its hind legs, glancing helplessly from side to side. Its eyes
reflected its misery. When the rain stopped, a small boat emerged from a nearby
house and paused under a coconut tree. The dog wagged its tail, yawned, and
made faint sounds of anticipation. The boatman climbed the tree, plucked tender
coconuts, split them open, drank the water, and left without a second glance.
A crow soon flew down and settled on
the floating carcass of a buffalo. The dog barked hungrily, but the crow
ignored it, tearing at the flesh before flying away. A green bird perched on a
plantain leaf and began to chirp, but the restless dog barked again,
frightening it off. Nearby, a cluster of ants floated on the water. Mistaking
them for food, the dog sniffed at them, only to sneeze as its nose became
swollen and irritated.
Later in the afternoon, two men
approached in a small boat. The dog wagged its tail gratefully, making sounds
almost like human speech, and prepared to climb aboard. “Look, there’s a dog,”
one of them remarked. The animal, as if understanding the concern, whimpered
with hope. But the other man replied indifferently, “Let it be.”
The dog seemed to choke back its
despair, letting out a painful cry. It hesitated, as if ready to leap into the
water, but held back. The boat slowly drifted away. The dog moaned again. One
of the men glanced back and said, “Oh! That isn’t a boatman’s call—it’s the
dog.”
Its sorrowful cries echoed across
the wind and water, yet no one returned. The dog watched until the boat
vanished from sight. Then it climbed back onto the thatched roof, as though
bidding farewell to the world—perhaps resigning itself to a lonely end, and to
a life where it would never again trust humans.
The dog lapped up some of the floodwater and looked helplessly at the birds
flying overhead. Suddenly, a water snake approached swiftly. Startled, the dog
leapt onto the roof. The snake slipped through the hole in the thatch—the same
opening through which Chenan and his family had escaped. Peering into the hole,
the dog barked and whimpered, torn between hunger and fear. Its cries carried a
raw, universal meaning—one that anyone, human or otherwise, could have
understood.
Night fell, bringing heavy rain and strong winds. The upper part of the
fragile hut trembled as waves crashed against it. Twice, the dog nearly lost
its footing. Then, a long, dark shape appeared in the water—a crocodile. The
terrified animal howled miserably. From somewhere nearby came the frightened
cries of hens.
A boat loaded with hay, coconuts, and bananas drifted near and stopped under
a plantain tree. “There’s a dog barking somewhere. Haven’t people left this
place?” someone in the boat remarked. The dog, noticing them, stood alert with
its tail raised and barked loudly, as if warning them away. One of the men
climbed onto the plantain tree.
“Koove, be careful—it might jump!” the other warned. At once, the dog lunged
forward. Startled, the man lost his balance and fell into the water. His
companion quickly pulled him back into the boat. Meanwhile, the dog swam back
to the hut, climbed onto the roof, shook itself, and barked fiercely. The men,
however, continued their work and stole the bananas.
“Some are left for you,” they mockingly told the dog, which kept barking
relentlessly. They then began loading hay into the boat. Finally, one of them
climbed onto the thatched roof. This time, the dog attacked, biting his leg and
tearing away a piece of flesh. The man screamed in pain and jumped back into
the boat. In retaliation, the other man struck the dog hard in the stomach with
a pole. The dog whimpered, its voice fading into a weak cry.
The injured man groaned in pain while the other tried to calm him,
whispering, “Keep quiet—someone might hear.” Soon after, they rowed away,
leaving the wounded and helpless dog alone once again amidst the floodwaters.
The dog stared in the direction of
the departing boat and barked loudly after it. It was close to midnight when a
large, dead cow drifted near the roof. The dog watched it from above at first,
hesitant to climb down. But as the carcass slowly began to float away, it grew
restless. Wagging its tail and tearing at the coconut leaves, as if sensing the
chance would soon pass, the dog finally climbed down, seized the carcass, and
began to eat greedily.
Suddenly, a heavy blow
struck—“Thud!”—and the dog disappeared. The carcass sank, resurfaced briefly,
and then drifted away. The storm raged on, with only the sounds of wind,
splashing waves, and the croaking of frogs breaking the silence. Everything
else fell eerily quiet.
Those guarding their homes no longer
heard the dog’s desperate cries. Decaying carcasses floated past, some pecked
at by crows who fed undisturbed. No one was there to stop the thieves or to
notice the suffering. The place had turned utterly desolate. Soon after, the
weakened hut gave way, collapsing into the water and disappearing beneath the
surface, leaving no trace behind.
The loyal animal had guarded its
master’s home until its very end. Though abandoned, it remained faithful. It
seemed as though the hut itself stayed afloat as long as the dog lived; once
the crocodile claimed it, the structure slowly sank beneath the floodwaters.
Gradually, the waters began to
recede.
When Chenan returned, he swam toward
the remains of the hut, searching for the dog. At last, he found its lifeless
body beneath a coconut tree, waves lapping against it. With his foot, he turned
the body over, uncertain if it was truly his. One ear was missing, the skin had
decayed, and the body was discolored beyond recognition.
In the Floods-Summary in Hindi
मंदिर नगर के सबसे ऊँचे स्थान
पर खड़ा है, फिर भी वहाँ देवता
की प्रतिमा गले तक बाढ़ के पानी में डूबी हुई है। चारों
ओर जहाँ तक नज़र जाती है, पानी ही पानी फैला हुआ है। गाँव के लोग सुरक्षित
स्थानों की तलाश में भाग चुके हैं,
और जिनके पास नावें थीं, वे अपने घरों की देखभाल
के लिए किसी को पीछे छोड़ गए हैं। मंदिर
के तीन ऊपरी कमरों में 67
बच्चे,
356 वयस्क और कई पालतू जानवर—कुत्ते, बिल्लियाँ, बकरियाँ, मुर्गियाँ आदि—शरण लिए हुए हैं। इतनी भीड़ और संकट के बावजूद, सब लोग आश्चर्यजनक रूप से बिना किसी झगड़े के शांति
से रह रहे हैं।
चेननपरायण एक पूरे दिन और रात से पानी में खड़ा था, क्योंकि उसके पास बच निकलने
के लिए कोई नाव नहीं थी। उसके मालिक को सुरक्षित स्थान पर गए तीन दिन हो चुके थे, और वह उसे पीछे छोड़ गया था। जैसे-जैसे शाम हुई और पानी झोपड़ी में घुसने
लगा,
चेनन ने जल्दी-जल्दी नारियल के पत्तों और लकड़ी
के टुकड़ों से एक छोटा मंच बना लिया। उस पर बैठकर वह उम्मीद कर रहा था कि दो-तीन दिनों में पानी उतर जाएगा।
वह घर छोड़ने
की हिम्मत नहीं कर पा रहा था,
क्योंकि उसे डर था कि उसके जाने पर सब कुछ चोरी हो जाएगा।
लेकिन स्थिति और बिगड़ गई। मंच पर खड़े होने के बावजूद पानी उसके घुटनों तक पहुँच गया, जबकि झोपड़ी
दो फीट पानी में डूब चुकी थी। निराश होकर उसने मदद के लिए पुकारा, लेकिन सुनने
वाला कोई नहीं था। उसके साथ एक गर्भवती महिला, चार बच्चे,
एक बिल्ली और एक कुत्ता थे—सभी उसकी जिम्मेदारी पर निर्भर थे। उसे एहसास हुआ कि अगर बारिश जारी रही,
तो झोपड़ी पूरी तरह डूब जाएगी
और उनका अंत निश्चित हो जाएगा।
हिम्मत जुटाकर चेनन ने छत का एक हिस्सा फाड़ा, ऊपर चढ़ा और चारों
ओर देखा। दूर उसे एक नाव दिखाई दी। उसने जोर-जोर से आवाज़ लगाई। सौभाग्य
से नाविक ने उसे देख लिया और उसकी ओर बढ़ा। चेनन ने एक-एक करके बच्चों,
महिला,
कुत्ते और बिल्ली
को नाव में बैठा दिया।
जब नाव चलने लगी,
तभी पास की छत से आवाज़
आई—“चेनाचा…
होई!” यह मादियंथारा कुंजप्पन था। चेनन ने जल्दी
से अपनी पत्नी
को नाव में बैठाया और बिल्ली
भी कूदकर अंदर आ गई। लेकिन
इस हड़बड़ी में कुत्ता पीछे छूट गया।
कुत्ता छत पर इधर-उधर भटकता
रहा। उसने नाव को दूर जाते देखा और समझ गया कि उसे छोड़ दिया गया है। वह दर्दभरी
आवाज़ में रोने लगा—उसकी पुकार मानो इंसानी पीड़ा जैसी थी। वह छत पर दौड़ता, सूँघता और कराहता रहा।
एक मेंढक उसकी आवाज़ से डरकर पानी में कूद गया। कुत्ता कुछ देर तक पानी की लहरों को देखता रहा, फिर खाने की तलाश में भटकने लगा। अचानक
एक मेंढक उसके पास से निकला, जिससे
वह छींकने लगा और अपना चेहरा
पंजे से रगड़ने
लगा।
फिर तेज़ बारिश
शुरू हो गई। कुत्ता झुककर बैठ गया और बारिश
सहने लगा। उसका मालिक अंबलपुझा में सुरक्षित था, जबकि वह अकेला फँसा हुआ था। रात होते-होते एक बड़ा मगरमच्छ पास आ गया। कुत्ता डरकर भौंका,
लेकिन मगरमच्छ आगे बढ़ गया।
भूखा-प्यासा कुत्ता
आसमान की ओर देखकर कराहता रहा। उसकी आवाज़ हवा के साथ दूर तक फैल गई। शायद कुछ लोगों
ने उसे सुना होगा। दूसरी ओर उसका मालिक आराम से खाना बना रहा होगा, जैसा वह पहले कुत्ते के साथ बाँटता था।
पास के घर से रामायण का पाठ सुनाई देने लगा। कुत्ता कुछ देर शांत होकर उसे सुनता रहा, लेकिन
फिर दर्द से भरकर फिर रोने लगा।
सुबह होते ही वह फिर कराहने
लगा। चारों ओर वीरानी थी—कहीं जीवन का कोई संकेत
नहीं। भूख से परेशान होकर वह मक्खियों को काटने
की कोशिश करता, खुद को खुजलाता और बेचैन रहता।
थोड़ी देर के लिए धूप निकली
और वह सो गया। फिर एक नाव दिखाई दी—वह खुशी से पूँछ हिलाने लगा, लेकिन नाव दूर चली गई। एक आदमी पास आकर नारियल तोड़कर
चला गया, कुत्ते की ओर ध्यान नहीं दिया।
एक कौवा भैंस के शव पर बैठकर मांस खाने लगा। कुत्ता भौंका, लेकिन
कौवा उड़ गया। बाद में दो आदमी नाव में आए—कुत्ता उम्मीद से भर गया, लेकिन उन्होंने
उसे अनदेखा कर दिया।
शाम को एक साँप आया। कुत्ता
डरकर छत पर चढ़ गया। रात में तूफान आया। झोपड़ी हिलने लगी। मगरमच्छ फिर दिखाई
दिया।
कुछ लोग नाव में आए और केले चुराने लगे। कुत्ता भौंका और एक आदमी पर हमला कर दिया, जिससे
वह घायल हो गया। बदले में दूसरे आदमी ने कुत्ते को डंडे से मारा। कुत्ता
घायल होकर कराहता
रह गया।
आधी रात को एक मरी हुई गाय पास आई। कुत्ता नीचे उतरकर
उसे खाने लगा। तभी अचानक जोरदार
चोट लगी—और कुत्ता
गायब हो गया। शायद मगरमच्छ ने उसे पकड़ लिया।
अब केवल हवा, पानी और मेंढकों की आवाज़ बची थी। कुत्ते की पुकार
हमेशा के लिए शांत हो गई। झोपड़ी भी धीरे-धीरे डूब गई।
जब पानी घटा, चेनन वापस आया। उसने कुत्ते की तलाश की। आखिरकार उसे नारियल के पेड़ के नीचे उसका सड़ा हुआ शव मिला। वह पहचान
भी नहीं पा रहा था कि यह वही कुत्ता
है या नहीं।
वह वफादार जानवर
अंत तक अपने मालिक के घर की रक्षा करता रहा—भले ही उसे छोड़ दिया गया था।
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