The day that Vivathi’s beloved Auntie Ranna died the ocean began to wash over the floor of their house. With the island flooded it was not possible to give her a proper burial, so Vivathi loaded her tiny body into their old wooden rowboat, along with a tin container of fresh water and another with rice and fish. She then set out for the nearest piece of land, whose distance she did not know since the once neighboring islands were no longer within eyesight, because they too had been devoured by the sea.
Auntie Ranna had been Vivathi’s last living relative since her parents and brothers lost their lives two years earlier when the small Maldive atoll where she had lived since birth was swept by giant tidal waves that rolled across the Laccadive Sea due to an earthquake off the coast of India.
At the start of her journey the birds, which also had been forced to evacuate the sinking island, followed her as she rowed toward the empty horizon. The sandpipers, plovers, terns, and herons swooped and glided in the cloudless blue sky and she spoke to them as the friends they had always been. Also with her was the Bodubera her aunt had sung as Vivathi lamented the absence of a young man to court her.
“But you are only sixteen, my dearest niece,” replied Auntie Ranna, who would then wrap her willowy arms around her and softly sing.
Aadha hissa mere to dil ki kahani ka tu
half my heart’s story is you
Piya Mein baaki aadha
my beloved, I am another half
Poor Auntie Ranna, thought Vivathi, and tears fell from her eyes as she gazed at her still figure nestled in the narrow of the canoe’s hull. Until now she had not noticed that her aunt clutched a pale purple orchid in her hand. The sight made Vivathi’s chest heave in sorrow, because she remembered how much joy flowers gave her.
“Bread feeds the body, but flowers feed the soul,” proclaimed Auntie Ranna on more than one occasion.
Vivathi’s moist eyes then settled on her nearly vanished island, which now revealed only the tops of its towering palm trees. She wondered what happened to the breadfruit, taro, and banana plants that had so richly nourished them. Would the fish feed on them and love them as much as she did? She mourned the loss of the colorful geckos. The turtles would swim to land somewhere, but she doubted the skills of geckos in high waters. Vivathi wondered, too, about the survival of the cuckoo birds and the short-eared owls. Would they be able to fly to safety? She had not seen either among the flock that circled overhead.
Soon night was upon her and she watched the falling stars and scanned the dark horizon until she fell into an exhausted sleep. In her dreams she celebrated the feast of Kuda Eid with her lost family. Her auntie and mother sang as they prepared fried fish balls and Kira Sarbat, the sweet milk she so loved. Her father and brothers kicked around a football and chuckled when it landed on the table where the meal was being assembled.
“Silly men. You will eat this and not the Gula if it comes this way again,” shouted Auntie Ranna heaving the ball back, and her remark made her father and brothers laugh even more.
She awoke as the eastern sky was turning a soft blue and kneeled for prayer. As she did her bare foot touched the cold flesh of her aunt and she pulled away quickly causing the small boat to rock violently. It was then that her aunt spoke.
“Oh, my darling Vivathi, do not fear the dead. We live in spirit without need of earthly hosts. We are as the air, strong and everywhere.”
Vivathi stared at her aunt’s motionless lips now as pale as her face, and for the first time she noticed a pungent odor coming from her.
“The body turns to guano when the spirit leaves it. It is good for feeding the creatures of the deep. You must remove me from the canoe, but I will remain with you forever,” said Auntie Ranna in a near whisper.
“Dear Auntie, I cannot do as you ask. I must take you to land and bury you properly,” replied Vivathi, fighting back tears.
“That is not necessary, my child. The sea is no different than the soil. In either the body rejoins the cycle of energy. In its passing it sustains the living and in doing so returns to the realm of life itself.”
Vivathi knew she must do as her aunt requested, and it was with a heavy heart that she rolled her rigid body into the sea.
“I love you, my child,” said Auntie Ranna as she disappeared into the emerald brine that reached the four horizons.
“I love you, too, Auntie,” replied Vivathi feeling more alone than ever before.
For the rest of the day, Vivathi rowed in the direction of the gulls hoping they would lead her to land, but none was to be found. Still she remained hopeful of finding shore even as the sun began to burn her skin and cause her discomfort. By nightfall her face and arms felt on fire and she was thankful for the sun’s departure and the cooling breezes that followed.
Once again she dreamed of her family and the wonderful moments they shared, such as when her brothers rode her on their backs and her mother made her a beautiful sari that she wore to the Eid ul-Al’h’aa festival. Even in her sleep she smiled from the joy these images gave her, but in one dream she saw the on-rushing wave that took away her loved ones and she awoke crying.
On the third day at sea Vivathi’s food and water supply was gone, as were the gulls she had been following. The sea was like glass with not a single ripple disturbing its varnished surface. There was no movement of any sort to be seen. Even the oars did not churn the liquid they cut through. It was as if the earth and all the elements it possessed were frozen in a photograph.
Throughout the day Vivathi’s mind played other tricks on her. She saw men perform the Dhandi Jehun revels around her boat. They were replaced by a group of women dancing and singing the Thaara and children frolicking across the water in spirited games. These phantasms deflected the reality of her desperate situation and lifted her spirits for the time they lasted.
It was a deafening crack of thunder that broke the solace of Vivathi’s happy illusions. The sky was now black as pitch and the sea climbed and dropped in giant swells. The rowboat lurched and Vivathi prayed while clinging to its sides.
“You will endure,” declared Auntie Ranna’s voice from within the gales that blew so hard Vivathi could not sit up. “You will endure, my niece.”
“Auntie, help!” Vivathi pleaded as the boat tipped but then steadied despite the surging water.
The strong wind still kept Vivathi from rising to see what was happening, but she could tell the boat was moving quickly and that something was carrying it.
“Auntie!” Vivathi shouted, and her summons was answered by the sweet familiar laughter of her former guardian and protector.
Soon the storm abated and the sea calmed. The late day sun returned and Vivathi was able to sit upright. What had saved her, she wondered? She looked over the side of the rowboat to find a vast winged creature swimming away. She knew from the stories her father had told her when she was little that it was the Manta Ray. In his vivid accounts, it had saved many people from certain death.
“The great Havamasa is a friend of man and even saves pretty little girls, too” joked Vivathi’s father as he regaled her with wondrous tales about the Manta Ray before she went to sleep for the night. “It carries shipwrecked people on its broad wings. It is very strong and most kind.”
“Thank you, Manta Ray,” she whispered at its vanishing shadow.
The late day turned to night and then dawn arrived again bringing with it the hot sun. Vivathi’s strength had drained from her and her heart’s rhythm had slowed. Still she fixed her eyes on the horizon for any evidence of land, but it seemed as if the earth had become only water.
“Dear Auntie, I cannot endure as you said. There is no land to give me life, so I shall perish.”
As the last air streamed from Vivathi’s lungs, her Auntie Ranna rose from the sea on the back of the Manta Ray.
“You will endure, my dearest child. Come join me for we shall go to the most wonderful island of all.”
Vivathi’s aunt lifted her limp body from the rowboat and held her close as the Manta Ray carried them away. Soon Vivathi felt her strength restored and mood transformed. As they moved swiftly across the surface of the rising sea, they became one with the sky and Auntie Ranna sang.
Ishq Haaye Baithe bithaye
this love, just like that
Jannat dikhaye haan
showed me heaven, oh yes
O raama
o God