“There! There!” Somebody in neon reflectors showed them their hands, directing their car to the only brick and mortar structure. Samar revved the engine through the flood, with the headlights and foglight on high, and drove up the ramp and into the construction site. The maddening noise of the rain quietened.
He parked the car among the only two others and Atharva got out.
“Atharva sir,” Vikram came running, reflector raincoat on, soaking all over. He carried a torch to light up the dark space even as the sun was supposed to be high up out at this point.
“There’s food and medicines in the car. Clothes and some baby things. Do you have people to take it?”
“There are people but we will have to trek uphill.”
“No pulleys? Cable cars?” Samar came striding, pulling the dickey open.
“We suspended everything,” he panted, men slowly running into the lot in raincoats and plastic bag kaftans.
“Is everyone evacuated?” Atharva asked the most important question.
“Everyone but one family of seven,” Vikram reported. “They are stuck on their roof on their farm outside the village. We can see them from the highest point here but cannot reach them. Kacche raste have been swept away and the roads are closed. When I spoke last to a Captain on radio, he said an airlift is being arranged.”
“From the NDRF?”
“He said he was a Captain from Kashmir.”
Samar’s satellite phone rang. Atharva eyed him take it and talk. Listen more than talk.
“Adil has gotten the nod to send J&K Disaster Management Force,” Samar finally informed him, still talking into the phone.
“Is the family ok?” Atharva turned to Vikram. “Any way of communicating?”
“Nothing. They keep waving now and then, but the water level has risen and the sky is foggy. We can’t see much. Once the sun sets, even that will go out.”
“Did he dispatch the force?” Atharva asked Samar.
“The clearance is not coming…”
“From where?”
Samar gave him a look.The CMO.
“Why?”
“Paperwork. It’s cross-state. May take another hour to come through… haan, yes,” he went back to talking.
“Here’s what we will do,” Atharva gathered the men around Vikram. “A team of two will take the high ground with binoculars and a portable ham set,” he pointed at the oldest of the lot, who didn’t look like they could do much physically.
“Who can swim the best among you?”
A young man put his hand up, followed by another of around the same age. Followed by a third.
“One among you. Vikram, pick. Get a life vest and a rope system.” Atharva turned and shuffled in the bag of equipment he had carried. It had been his backpack since his SFF days, updated every year. From flashlights to alumina balls, mylar blankets to GoPro camera, binoculars to medicines and suturing set — it was a lifesaver. He pulled out the GoPro and turned it on.
“Take this and swim away, but only as far as you can to make sure you can return safely,” he handed the camera with its band ready to fit around the man’s forehead. “Tie a reflector band on your wrist and get as much visibility as you can. Wave at them, show a thumbs up. Keep your head above water, try to capture as much as you can. What’s your name?”
“Jagga.”
“Jagga, the team on the high ground will keep their eyes on you. They will alert us if you need help.”
“Sir, even if we see they are all ok, we can’t do anything,” Vikram pointed, his tone practical.
“Do you know these people?”
