25-10-2025, 01:48 AM
Scene 1: The Morning After the Wave (First Day: Morning)
A thin sound of water moving through broken leaves woke Naveen.
For a few seconds, he thought he was still dreaming, the smell of salt, the uneven rocking beneath him, the chill in the air that felt heavier than any morning breeze. The world had an unreal stillness to it, like time had stopped breathing. Then he opened his eyes.
A sheet of grey light spread across what had once been land. The sky looked pale and tired, as if even the sun had lost courage. Everywhere he turned, there was water, quiet now, only sighing against fragments of walls and trees, whispering the remnants of chaos.
He was lying on a strip of damp earth, half-buried in sand and coconut fronds. His right shoulder ached sharply; his shirt was torn, and his skin was crusted with salt. When he tried to sit, the world tilted, and a low moan escaped his throat. The silence that followed felt enormous, an emptiness that hummed in his ears.
A crow circled overhead, its caw sharp and lonely before it drifted away toward the drowned horizon.
Naveen pressed his palms into the sand and forced himself upright. His fingers sank into the grainy wetness. The smell of brine and smoke clung to everything. Near him lay the remains of a wooden cart, a torn fishing net tangled with rope, and a plastic toy car, faded and ghostly. He stared at it for a long time, trying to remember who it might have belonged to. Then, quietly, he turned away.
His mind offered only fragments, a blur of screams, his wife’s voice calling his name, the small hand of his younger daughter slipping from his grasp, and the roar that came like a living wall. Then, black water.
Now there was only the soft gurgle of retreating waves and the ache in his chest that no breath could fill.
He coughed suddenly, choking as saltwater burned his throat. His palms dug into the sand for balance. “Anaya!” he shouted, his voice cracking in the heavy air. “Rishi!”
Nothing. Only the wind carrying the distant cry of a bird circling above.
A thin sound of water moving through broken leaves woke Naveen.
For a few seconds, he thought he was still dreaming, the smell of salt, the uneven rocking beneath him, the chill in the air that felt heavier than any morning breeze. The world had an unreal stillness to it, like time had stopped breathing. Then he opened his eyes.
A sheet of grey light spread across what had once been land. The sky looked pale and tired, as if even the sun had lost courage. Everywhere he turned, there was water, quiet now, only sighing against fragments of walls and trees, whispering the remnants of chaos.
He was lying on a strip of damp earth, half-buried in sand and coconut fronds. His right shoulder ached sharply; his shirt was torn, and his skin was crusted with salt. When he tried to sit, the world tilted, and a low moan escaped his throat. The silence that followed felt enormous, an emptiness that hummed in his ears.
A crow circled overhead, its caw sharp and lonely before it drifted away toward the drowned horizon.
Naveen pressed his palms into the sand and forced himself upright. His fingers sank into the grainy wetness. The smell of brine and smoke clung to everything. Near him lay the remains of a wooden cart, a torn fishing net tangled with rope, and a plastic toy car, faded and ghostly. He stared at it for a long time, trying to remember who it might have belonged to. Then, quietly, he turned away.
His mind offered only fragments, a blur of screams, his wife’s voice calling his name, the small hand of his younger daughter slipping from his grasp, and the roar that came like a living wall. Then, black water.
Now there was only the soft gurgle of retreating waves and the ache in his chest that no breath could fill.
He coughed suddenly, choking as saltwater burned his throat. His palms dug into the sand for balance. “Anaya!” he shouted, his voice cracking in the heavy air. “Rishi!”
Nothing. Only the wind carrying the distant cry of a bird circling above.
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