6 and a half years ago, I prayed, "pls no, not today."

Breakfast was biscuits from the top shelf because the basement kitchen was flooded and our cook couldn't commute. We had no electricity like the rest of Kerala, and the overhead tank was running dangerously low for the 50 of us in the building. We waded through the water to school with the principal who was also our warden to shift what was left of the lab equipment and CPUs to the library upstairs. I remember the feeble jokes we cracked to lighten the mood. "Watch out for snakes" one of them said chuckling and my mind thought in terror, "yes, watch out!" I was also wondering if the stray dog that chased me everyday on my way to school had found shelter from the rain. All of us thought the same thing, "will I get to see my family again?" By noon, we knew we wouldn't if we didn't start the journey home soon. Our warden phoned our local guardians one by one. As worried as I was about my own safety, I wondered if our warden would be ok there. After two more days of rain, my aunt left my mother a message about how she had only enough to feed her children and my brother and me one more meal. I had also left her a message the previous day before my phone died cribbing in all my pettiness that my cousin sister had yelled at me for using too much shampoo. Despite financial strain and impossible logistics, my mother booked us tickets home after an hour of frantic research and arranged for a friend to drive us to Karipur. In that anger, no goodbyes were said, no food was had. After a harrowing journey, the uncle who drove us there ate some chapatis with us and dropped us off at the gate. In the dire situation, some staff tried to scam our short ass to pay to be 'allowed' to check in. Until my brother and I reached home the next day, we prayed. For the safety of our friends and the strangers we left behind. For the safety of the airplane. I have never enjoyed breakfast more than the one I had after I got home. My mother showed us videos of our hometown under water. We phoned our cousin brother to check in on them and was told about how he a 5'9 tall man had to wade in chest-deep water to get grocery. I learned that emergencies bring out sides to people we didn't know they had and that people can put themselves first despite the huge amount of love they have each other. I saw another personality that both my aunt and I had. I think what matters ultimately is how we make up for it. Months later I woke up dreading how my first birthday away from my family would turn out. At school, around the first break, the principal called me to her office. When I reached the foot of the stairs, I stopped in my tracks when I saw my aunt waiting in front of the office with a box of cake in her hands. She spotted me stand still like an idiot, and came towards me. I saw her for who she truly was then and loved everything about her in that moment, from that pink shawl to her very presence. She said, "happy birthday" and I felt so overwhelmed that I could only manage to choke, "I was sad my family would not be with me today." And she said, the most beautiful thing ever, "wdym, I'm family, why wouldn't I come over today?" I hugged her tight and sobbed, feeling sorry about not saying goodbye that day and for harboring all those bad feelings about her. Every second saturday after that, she picked me up from hostel and would commute with me to Elthuruth to pick my brother and take the auto all the way back to her home for us to stay with her. On those days, I'd wake up to doordarshan on the radio, the gayatri mantra chants from next door and the smell of fresh dosa and sambhar. That's how Dosa and Sambhar became my comfort food. I am by nature very introverted. But no matter what, to this day, I leave her texts and she calls me when she can. Her voice feels like a hug to me and gives me hope. I felt like sharing this story with you all. Take care!