The Lost Home — An Odyssey For Survival

Short Climate Fiction

Words — 4736

Synopsis — Nestled in the Indian Ocean, an Indigenous tribe on an archipelago faces an existential crisis. When their homeland is encroached by rising sea water, they confront a dilemma between an attachment to land of forefathers and an urge to survive the race. Will the young generation wield the helm to protect their people against the menace?

Note — Reviews even brutal ones and suggestions are welcome!

It’s 2100. An Indigenous tribe on an archipelago somewhere in an Indian ocean…

The noon sky was mellow, with scattered clouds as white as snow. The rough sea waves crashed at the foot of the giant, rocky cliffs that spread across the northern shore of Kerubi Island, ceaselessly and brutally.

The trio of camaraderie, Ruhaab, Drasil, and Yakuma, clambered up the treacherous cliff, overlooking the sprawling pale blue sea. The salty smell of the breeze tickled their nostrils as it wafted inside. It had been their fun and secret spot since childhood, a place where they could hide, avoid unpleasant work, or dodge their master.

“Earlier, it used to have a sprawled beach where we caught oysters, prawns and fish,” Ruhaab said in a nostalgic tone.

“Indeed,” Drasil approved. “Things are changing are so fast. The water level is rising rapidly as only a small portion of the beach has been left not under the water now.”

“Alas!” Yakuma took a sigh of exasperation. “I eavesdropped elders yesterday’s night that they were talking about the some prophecy of doom that might destroy this island, our home.”

“Yes,” Ruhaab interrupted. “I tried to ask Ba but he shrugged off calling it a mere figment of legend.”

The pack of seagulls were hovering over the shallow sea at the foot of the cliffs, looking for prey. One of them dived at a blitz speed, lost into the water, and repapered with having a writhing fish in the beak. It flew afar inside the island. The moment had peace and wonderment. They were talking their precious childhood, the increasing responsibility and perceptible growing existential threat.

“Looked over there”, Ruhaab said abruptly as he stood on the brink of the cliff pointing his fingers towards a large boulder at the cliff’s foot. “There’s someone lying there on the shore, not moving a bit.”

All of them gawked their eyes towards the boulder and found it — a lone figure lay on the sand, face down and chest down. They clambered down from the rocky cliff, ran towards the beach and found strange figure.

“It’s fauhaz,” Drasil shrieked and retracted a bit.

“What’s fauhaz?” Yakuma asked curiously.

“People from a faraway land,” Ruhaab explained him. “Ba once told that there are the faraway lands where people who look like us live and thrive. They are very advanced ones who can fly in the air, walk on water, and control wind.”

“Ok, what should we do now?” Drasil asked, more to himself than them.

“He’s alive but has suffered severe wounds, probably from the crash,” Yakuma repeated.

“He might have been dangerous. What if he attacks us once he becomes conscious?” Drasil asked and looked into the eyes of Ruhaab and Yakuma.

“We can’t leave him as it is. Let’s take him to the physician. He must have something to heal his wounds and regain his consciousness,” Yakuma said while taking his hands over the fauhaz’s chest.

“You two take him to the old physician while I will inform the chief and other people,” Ruhaab instructed them and ran away to the village saddled inside the island.

Ruhaab was running breathlessly through the forest, with a gigantic wave chasing him like a shark to its prey. The wave, alive and resembling the king of the sea, with pointy, razor-like teeth and elongated eyes, looked down at him with insidious intent and emitted a pungent foul odor. He tried to hide behind a rock, which was shattered to bits by the monstrous wave with a single splash. Gasping for breath on the brink of a bottomless pit, he came to a halt. With no other option but to turn around, he spun and locked eyes with the devilish wave. The wave devil pounced forcefully, hurling him into the bottomless pit as if blowing away chaff from the paddy. He screamed silently, flailing his limbs mindlessly…

Ruhaab woke up, drenched in sweat. It had been a nightmare, one of many that made him feel trapped in a surreal world, where suffering, tears, and pain seemed endless. It was dawn in the summer, and the sun’s rays pierced through the dissipating darkness.

His ba, his grandmother, was weaving a basket made of coir and bird feathers on the verandah. It marked the preparations for a special event that would take place that night.

On the third full moon night of the summer, the members of the Hanuba tribe would gather together to pray to the supreme gods, Serom and Verom, for blessings, abundant food, and rain. They would sacrifice a giant shark and distribute its meat. The balance of fragile nature was very important and imbalance signed that gods were unpleasant.

Gods desired offerings and sacrifices. To accomplish that purpose, they adorned the entire island, their homes with festoons made up with coir, colourful plumage of birds and foliage. Women worked day and night for a fortnight to prepare all the items that would be utilized to make the night beautiful.

“Ba, it’s been 7 days since we encountered the fauhazh,” Ruhaab inquired to her inquisitively. The old physician said he would take another 6–7 days to regain his consciousness. What would we do thereafter? He not seem dangerous to me at all.”

“My moon, let your Pa, the chieftain of the tribe, decide the destiny of that fauhaz. We have to kill or send away if he is a threat.”

The eventful night arrived. The sun hid behind the horizon, allowing darkness to prevail as the moon and stars began their enchantment. The entire island, its houses, and its people were adorned with birds’ colorful plumage, foliage, and fish skeletons.

All members of the tribe huddled at the centre of the island where their totem stood. The fire was lit before it, and poured coconut oil to kindle its flames. The billowing smoke, black and gray, was believed to serve as a bridge connecting human forms with the divine.

A solemn silence enveloped the crowd, and the crackling sound of something splitting in the fire could be heard. The crowd split into two flanks, making way for the party led by the tribe’s only priest, who resided in the Mohatta mountains and appeared only on special occasions. The priest was followed by Chieftain Alamhans, his younger brother Nurmnaha, five prime elders who formed the supreme council, and a few others.

The shaman, with a sleek body, long limbs, pointed nose, and elongated eyes, prowled around the totem. A fish skeleton was caught in his long, twisted locks, emitting a pungent odour. The shaman’s mouth moved in silence, communicating with the gods.

Meanwhile, Ruhaab watched the spectacle with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. He knew that if the gods accepted the offerings, the wave devil that haunted him in his nightmares might be vanquished forever. The power of the gods was believed to be immense, capable of turning a catastrophe into an ordinary occurrence.

“The clouds of the doom are hovering over us,” the Shaman spoke in a grotesque voice when everyone sat in their place. “Ages ago, one great man prophesied that the Hanuba tribe’s doomsday would be brought by its own life-giving elements.”

Everyone was listening him quietly and raptly.

“Indeed, the waters that nourish and nurture us for ages have been turning against now. The water level is rising, drowning this beautiful island, our home. But we can pray to Gods to protect us against this prophecy. Gods are angry and we need to give a sacrifice in exchange.”

Half a couple of men brought the dead great white shark to the centre, near the fire. The Shaman pulled out a handheld fish skeleton having sharing edges, cut a large chunk of meat from the Shark and offered to the fire. The blood that oozed out from the body had been used by him to smear across his forehead and cheeks.

“Hurray! Sacrifice has been made, which probably decreased Gods’ wrath. It’s time for revelry.” Suddenly, the weather changed and rain droplets fell from the sky like nectar of Gods.

The people of Hanuba rejoiced, dancing in the rain, their prayers answered, their faith restored.

The cooked shark meat had been distributed in all members along with ‘Sheruba’ a sweet drink made of locally grown sea weeds and herbs. All of them ate, danced, and enjoyed the moment.

Next morning, the houses were quiet and calm as the exhaustion of late night revelry still hung over the tribesmen. Ruhaab sneaked off early to the physician’s house with his friend Drasil to check on the man of other world who had recovered from his wounds.

They called him ‘Fauhaz’ as they didn’t know his name. They had started spending spare time with him since he regained consciousness six days ago. The language was a barrier which was overcome by gestures and mouth expression. In the meantime, Ruhaab started understanding particular words of Fauhaz with the help of hand movements.

His wounds healed almost, although bruises remained. The lost strength of his body was returning and he could walk and run like others. He didn’t meet with other tribesmen until now except Ruhaab, the physician, and the chieftain. Ruhaab’s father after consulting with the physician allowed the man from the other world to stay on the island.

Ruhaab had not only taken care of him but also taught about the island’s geography, history of his tribe, his family, friends and his likes and dislikes, and fears and hopes, and most importantly the existential crisis they were facing.

The tribesmen having a solemn look huddled on the high hill overlooking the flooded ashore. The fear was coming true and the monster chasing them faster than ever. Things were getting worse more than expectation. The island was drowning.

“It used to be our home,” said a middle-aged man with vague eyes and desolate look, “Where do we live now? Water devour our entire house. His two small children clutched his legs and were crying hardly.

“Don’t cry,” another man with the same age was giving him faux promises. “Gods will come and save us”.

The chief of the tribe, Ruhaab’s father kept his serious countenance while watching the wail of misery of the man. He couldn’t have been more helpless than this. The archipelago, indeed, was drowning and so their home.

“We have to build a new house for Ramshin at the centre part of the island,” one among the crowd said. “If we don’t help them in times of badly need, Gods will not spare us.”

Others nodded in agreement. The fear could have been spotted in all of them, a sense of imminent doom that might perish their existence once and for all.

“But it’s not a solution,” the lean man with hard muscles shouted. “Today, it’s him. Who knows sooner or later our homes will be washed away along the waves. I don’t feel safe now.”

The whispering among the crowd erupted as soon as the truth spread mouth by mouth. The shudder of fear swept across, even the strongest ones could feel their limbs shivering and mouth drying.

“Enough,” the chief said in a thunderous voice. “Let’s call all-members meeting tonight to discuss the pressing concerns, call to action and decide our next strategy.”

Ruhaab was deeply disturbed about the tragedy yesterday. In his childhood, he used to go there for fishing and swimming. It was the best place to capture great amount of fresh water fish, prawns and oysters. Now, it was only a water graveyard with salt water infiltrated over the lands. He wanted to speak for him but he didn’t dare in front of the crowd.

Ruhaab and Fauhaz were walking on the eastern shore, which was having low-lying sandy beaches, both of them were quiet. He didn’t tell what the problem was. He was neither having courage nor energy to tell him.

Having nudged many times, he was forced to utter the misery. He made the drawing of his island on the beach and the portion which was flooded now. He communicated through hands about a man who had lost his home and farm as the sea waters flooded the portion.

The tears swelled up in his eyes, which he brushed away with the back of the right hand. “I fear to die, but seeing my people dying is more horrific. I want to do something.”

Fauhaz looked at him with empathy.

“We can save your people,” Fauhaz said in his language with eyes having hope. Ruhaab understood it well.

After a gloom of silence for a while, Fauhaz started drawing something on the sand. Intrigued to know what’s he was drawing, Ruhaab peered and a big object floating on the water. He then said, ‘boat’.

Once he saw this kind of object when he was playing with his friends on the shore passing through the waters of the archipelago, which they dubbed ‘Magical object from a faraway land’. Now, he knew what it called something a ‘boat’.

“How could it help us against the doom?” he gestured towards the huge waves drowning the island. ‘How’?

He then made a few more boats like the previous ones and put some dot on them. He then pointed at Ruhaab and then towards the boat. He then pointed towards himself and towards the boat.

“Ok, we all board the boats and they will take all of us a faraway place.”

The man moved his head up and down in a bliss of happiness. He thanked that he was able to communicate his message to him.

“Wow, do you know how to build it?” he said in a rapt movement.

He nodded.

All members of the tribe, be it male, female, children, and old ones gathered at the centre of the island around the totems of their gods. Ruhaab’s father sat in the middle with five prime elders hearing the pleas of people doomed in misery and existential crisis.

“As a leader, you have to do something. The Gods are angry and they are drowning us.” Nurmnaha, the main opponent of the chief, started ranting out the anger. “It’s time to step down if you can’t protect your people.”

His supporters yelled in unison, “Step Down…Step Down”.

“Stop!” The chief yelled in a heavy voice to put down all uproar. “It’s time to come together instead of being divided among us. Threat is perceptible and inching towards us every passing moment.”

“There’s no way we can stop it. It’s prophesised,” one prime member intervened.

“We can’t sit with hands in the pocket. What if we build huge walls of muds around the island to not let the sea waters in?” Nurmanaha spoke in a haughty way.

“Those waves won’t stop by your mud embankments. They will sweep down in one round.”

“The last option we have is to pray Gods showing upon us mercy and compassion. They won’t let to die, drown or starve their children,” the chief said.

There’s solemnity prevailed each and every countenance. No one spoke a word for a while. Then Ruhaab came forward, summoning up all his strength to confront his childhood fear of public speaking.

“We can’t give up,” he started. “It the trait of cowards to cower down and don’t do any actions. I have something that can save all of us.”

Every hopeless and vague eyes brighten up at seeing the young teenager showing a light in the dark cave. The chief narrowed his eyes over to his son, who was being courageous or fool, while glancing towards the other prime members.

Ruhaab called fauhaz and started speaking.

“This island, our home, is drowning. You, I… No one can stop it what’s written in the stars. But we can save ourselves, our people, and life.”

“What can we do if the entire island being drown under the sea?” one person raised the question.

“There’s the thing called ‘boat’, an object that not only can float on the water but also board all of us and to take us wherever we want, probably on a new island”

“How do you know how to create such thing?” he replied.

“This nice man of other world helped me to create a small version of it and it’s at the shore. We can build large boats that can take us to the faraway place, maybe an island like this.”

“That’s rubbish,” said the Shaman. “We can’t leave our ancestral home. Gods would kill us if we dare to even think about that.”

“Agreed. We can’t hear a boy even he is the son of a chief,” Nurmnaha said as he tried to stoke the fire of critique. “I challenge the chief at the moment to make a way for me to become the chief and let you guide through this crisis. It seems our chief is incompetent and coward and being dependent on a teenage boy. It’s time for me to raise the stake.”

The supporters of Nurmnaha made noises in support to throw down the incumbent chief once and for all and place stead him. There was uproar and chaos. The situation seemed to getting out of the control.

“Enough of this.” The chief said in a thunderous voice to clamp down the small rebellion. “Let people to decide if they want me or you, my younger brother. And it’s now or never. Let’s have a vote of count to end this debate once and for all.”

One by one people raised their hands to show their support. Half way down the counting it became clear that the majority of them were still supporting their incumbent chief. Nurmnaha lost the vote by 2/3rd as he had very thin supporters.

He stormed out from the place as he couldn’t face the humiliation and Judgement. The assembly was dispersed inconclusively and it was assured to members that they would deliberatively think over the issue and try to find the solution including Ruhaab’s.

The same night, Ruhaab went over to his father chamber and persuaded him to once look at the boat they had created. He might have been inarticulate or offensive to suggest people to leave the ancestral home but there was no other best way.

“Pa, it’s our last hope. If we spend enough resources and start creating them by now, we will definitely create it before the situation gets out of control.”

“My son, I admire your courage today. But it’s been their home since ages. Their forefathers were born and died here. You can’t force them to leave it, can we?”

“Agreed. Just once come tomorrow at the eastern shore. The sample boat would definitely surprise you. We must have options if the danger comes upon us.”

He smiled looking at his son being more responsible, courageous and mature. “Ok, I will come.”

The next day, the weather was shallow and overcast. The Sun was hidden behind cotton like clouds.

The chief, Alamhans, Ruhaab, Fauhaz and most of tribe’s men reached to the eastern shore where the boat was kept. They all were excited to see how the object made of trees could save them from the doom. Ruhaab dragged the boat to the water and asked his father and prime elders to sit on it. They did as they were told with some apprehension.

Finally, Fauhaz loosed the rope made of husk to let away the boat on the water. With the help of guided planks, they made a round, feeling exuberant and blissful.

At last, they came back safely at the shore. The fear they had before clamped down and the hope replaced it. Thereafter, other members used the boat to float on the waters. They all seemed happy and satisfied.

“What did you say,” Ruhaab asked inquisitively to his Pa.

He smiled and said, “We shall commission building some of them for emergency.”

Hearing these words, he jumped into the air. Tribes’ men bowed down before Fuahaz as a mark of respect.

Four Full Moons Later…

The water had swallowed into the major part of the island and the stock of fresh water fish depleted substantially. It’s getting difficult to gather enough food for the tribe members. They all shifted to the highlands in expectation to get more time. But the speed of rising water was phenomenally faster.

10 big boats had been completed, and the remaining 3 were having the last touch. Most of them believed that these boats were the last hope they had. Fauhaz helped them to build these boat by providing guidance and necessary knowledge. Nothing could stop their home, this island, to be drowned under the waters. They were in dilemma.

A large portion of coconut trees had to cut down in order to build these large boats, whereas women prepared the thick ropes by coir and natural adhesive from plants to bind the wood planks.

Ruhaab had been given the responsibility to overlook the entire process and he was doing so bravely, overcoming his childhood fears of shyness and judgement. The waters had covered the lowlands of the entire archipelago, and swallowed one of the nearby islands. The sea water entered into the inland lake, destroying one of their sources of fresh water. Now, all of them had to walk several miles up to fetch the fresh water for drinking and irrigating for plants.

Meanwhile, Fauhaz learned the tribal language and could do long conversation instead of uttering a few words. He informed Ruhaab that he was a traveller who explored the countries. His boat had wrecked and capsized while travelling due to heavy storm and he was washed away to the island in the state of unconsciousness.

He explained him how the entire outer world was using the planet’s resources exponentially, causing the rising of its temperature. It had increased so much now that the blanket of heat was causing the planet’s ice-sheets to start melting down. The rising sea water that were drowning the islands happened due to melting of glaciers and ice.

“Our civilisation has developed tools and machines that can combat the vagaries of nature due to global warming,” Fauhaz said. “Being disappointed to see how indigenous tribes like you who don’t have means and knowledge as advanced as us are facing the existential threat. That’s very meanness from our side to let you fend off the human’s crisis alone.”

Ruhaab didn’t utter any word. He just heard all what Fauhaz said quietly but thoughtfully. He had always the hunch that there’s something else beyond the infinite waters, which came to true now.

No one had seen Nurmnaha and the Shaman since the defeat of that judgement day. Some believed they hid in the nooks of the craggy hills at the Mohattta Mountain with their supporters.

One evening when the setting sun appeared red burning globe on the horizon, the Shaman reappeared before the chief and the other members and said he had found a way to solve the doom crisis.

He further told that the chief and prime elders had to do a ritual at the peak of the Mohatta mountain in order for getting rid from the doom crisis.

“And it’s needed to happen today during the full moon of the autumn,” the Shaman concluded.

The chief was unsure about that but he couldn’t dare to challenge him when other prime elders supported. All of them along with a few ones walked up towards the peak of the Mohatta mountain. The pathway wasn’t linear, full of crags and trenches. Through the arduous journey, with having the Shaman in the lead, the entourage reached the somewhat plain space at the mountain. It’s a little cold here with the rough wind splashing on their face.

“What’s next?” the chief asked in a thunderous voice. “Where do we start now?”

Suddenly, Nurmnaha and his supporters appeared from behind and circled them. They had thick sticks in the hands.

“What do you want, my young brother?” the chief asked.

“You are a traitor,” Nurmnaha spoke. “You are not only leaving the land of forefathers and foremothers but also trusting a fauhaz. How shameful it is! This island is the identity of the Hanuba tribe.”

“You are wrong. These people, young ones and elder ones, are the identity of the Hanuba tribe. There’s nothing if they aren’t. The island is drowning, and it’s out of our control now. The Shaman couldn’t do anything apart from praying. Come with us, protect your people.

“Never.” Nurmnaha and his supported attacked them with the thick sticks atop the coconut shell. They grabbed and hammered brutally. The chief and his supporters tried to fight back but being outnumbered in the ambush along with having bare hands.

Nurmnaha hammered the thick stick brutally on the head of the chief whose force confounded him and he fell unconscious. The prime elders tried to attack Nurmnaha before the latter’s supporters grabbed and started beating with punches, sticks and stones.

Meanwhile, a few supporters slipped away from the battlefield so they could inform others in the plains. The massacred was heinous. The scenes that unfolded could bring a spirit of contempt, pity and hatred for the perpetrators.

Ruhaab couldn’t control his emotions and vented out his misery with fury. It’s hard to believe that his uncle had done such a crime. He yelled to kill his uncle but he was being stopped by his friends and Fauhaz. He was told that it’s more important to board the people fast and find a new suitable place for your people unless Nurmnaha and his supporters would burn the boats.

“Your Pa believed in you. He had the conviction that you would show these people a new light. Gods will punish Nurmnaha for his crimes but don’t let mistakes of others blind you to the right path,” his Ba consoled and suggested to go away with those who wish to come with you.

“The island is dying,” Ruhaab’s grandfather addressed to all members of the tribe. My son is dead in a nefarious conspiracy. It’s up to your wish if you want to come with us to find a new home or stay here. Everyone has a choice, although time is short.”

Soon the majority of people started streaming into the boats with some foods and items they could take. Ruhaab was in silence. His Ba was having a bittersweet emotion of watching his grandson becoming a leader following his son, the now dead chief.

Only few families decided to not go away with the convoy. Angered over the betrayal of the Shaman and his uncle, Ruhaab’ mind was heavy and remorseless. He wished to see them suffer and die all alone when the water would take the entire island.

The convoy had slipped away into the deep ocean from the ashore. Only the last boat remained to be boarded when Ruhaab’ grandmother denied to come with them.

“My life is almost over, my boy. My pa and ma, da and ba, your father all were born, grown up inhaling this sea air, eating fish around it and died over this soil. I don’t think I have something else to see somewhere. Even it could, I don’t want to see. Go my boy, live your life and be the torch of these innocent souls like your father.”

Ruhaab stopped. He was adamant to take his Ba with him. Suddenly, the island rumbled when Nurmnaha and his troop approached down the mountain towards the shore. His friends and Fauhaz grabbed him and took on the boat. He writhed, cried and groped. But one man couldn’t do much against the power of half a dozen.

They boarded on the boat before they could come to the shore. Nurmnaha warned him to return to the shore unless he would kill his grandmother. But things weren’t in his hands. They stabbed his grandmother who spread down on the floor instantly.

He yelled in an agony of pain. And the boat glided away from his home, his family, and his island.

Epilogue…

The convoy had sailed for almost a fortnight relentlessly. There was water at all corners, making them sick and nauseated. When hope wavered and dwindled, the spirit of people broke down, then Alamhans tried to invigorate the draining energy time to time.

After two full moons, they spotted the large island, full of vegetation. All of them smiled.