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Looking back

Intolerable pain is worthy of what I lost

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The tsunami took everything - her husband, her two sons, her parents. Sonali Deraniyagala contemplated suicide, turned briefly to alcohol, and then began to write. 'Wave' was her raft to survival.

By the time I heard Sonali Deraniyagala's voice on Skype, I had been waiting for months to talk to her. In that interval, I had read and re-read her unbearably poignant memoir Wave while watching the reviews proliferate online. Praise abounded (Michael Ondaatje dubbed it "the most powerful and haunting book" he had read in years). It had been launched in March without fanfare, its author having previously reached an agreement with her American publishers that she would do only a few interviews and no TV talk shows. Still Wave didn't seem to need much promotion - almost effortlessly, the slender tome has become one of the most extraordinary accounts of the 2004 tsunami.

That December, Deraniyagala, then a lecturer in economics at the School of Oriental and African Studies in London, and her husband Steve were vacationing with her parents and her children in Yala on the south-eastern coast of Sri Lanka. Eight-year-old Vikram who "knew heaps about birds", loved the whitebellied sea eagles that soared in the skies above the national park. Nikhil, whom everyone called Malli or younger brother thanks to Vikram, was equally at home. They were "blissfully happy" as a family, Deraniyagala recalls. As Boxing Day dawned, she and her close friend Orlantha stood watching Malli playing with his present on the veranda. She remembers Orlantha turning to her and saying simply, 'What you guys have is a dream. '

Less than an hour later, when the thought occurred again to Deraniyagala, its context was unimaginably different. A tsunami had torn through their hotel, overturned the jeep in which they were attempting to escape and separated her from her husband and children. As she looked up, a flock of painted storks flew in perfect formation across a clear, blue sky. A strange, suspended moment of calm and then Deraniyagala was dragged back into a reality where she was helplessly adrift, being carried by a giant wave far inland, her body being whipped back and forth by this inconceivably powerful force.

Looking back, Deraniyagala says: "That was the very first thing which I wrote about - being in the water itself;how utterly bewildering an experience it was, as well as being terrifying and mostly being extremely painful physically. " These first pages and most of what would become Wave were written in New York, where Deraniyagala is a lecturer at Columbia University. Perhaps because she never imagined the book being read by a larger audience, Deraniyagala spared herself nothing, writing about that day and the years that followed with a raw honesty. "In a way I started writing just to make sense of it for myself...I was really trying to work things out. Here was the unfathomable and I was trying to kind of make it comprehensible to myself, by dealing with little bits of it at a time. "

So she proceeded chronologically, through the chaos that followed the tsunami where hundreds upon hundreds were missing or unaccounted for in Sri Lanka alone. Vikram's body and those of his grandparents were identified in January but Steve and Nikhil were yet to be found - that news would take four months and the help of a lab in Austria to identify them from bodies exhumed from a mass grave.

While Deraniyagala waited for confirmation of what she already knew to be true, she planned her suicide, shied away from all recollections of her family and for a brief spell became alcoholic. She has lost everything - her past, her present and her future - to the wave. "If your whole life vanishes in an instant, at that point you can't even really feel the grief, the main thing is just terror, " she says. "If I was alone in a room for two seconds I felt like I was going to pass out. "

Deraniyagala has since braved nearly a decade without her family. Having built a new life for herself in another country she had grown accustomed to evading questions about her past. For the longest time, new colleagues, casual acquaintances and even her neighbours in New York didn't have a clue. That's all changed with Wave. People approach her in supermarket queues and out on the street. "They mostly just want to talk, " says Deraniyagala, sharing her "relief that people know and I don't have this false identity ...On the other hand I'm not at ease with the details that people do know. I don't know, I have to work that one out. "

Readers are finding that Wave is as much about love as it is about loss;it is not one but two stories. One is the deliberate and unflinching examination of her own grief and her passage through it and the other the story of the life she once had. Though it started out as an exercise suggested by her therapist, Deraniyagala did not consider her writing cathartic. She wasn't working her family out of her system - she was drawing them in. She brought her two beautiful boys to life, painstakingly recording all she could of them and then she began on her husband and her parents. They are all there on the page, alive with detail, thrumming with life.

In Wave, Deraniyagala has an extraordinary memorial to the people she loved, allowing us first to know and then to care for these strangers through her words. The book feels like an invitation into their home in Friern Barnet, which Deraniyagala keeps much as it was. She imagines that her boys would cringe to know their playroom was the same, their notes and unopened Christmas presents still intact. She loves that people stepping in can imagine that Vik and Malli are in the other room, her husband perhaps out at the store.

Explaining her instinct to stockpile her memories, she writes: "I can only recover myself when I keep them near. If I distance myself from them, and their absence, I am fractured. I am left feeling I've blundered into a stranger's life. " Deraniyagala doesn't shy away from the pain these recollections bring. "We were gloriously happy as a family and that makes the loss even more devastating ...but to feel intolerable pain is worthy of what I lost. That's the way I look at it, " she tells me now. Counter intuitively, living fully with her loss has allowed her to really embrace life. "It's very enriching, " she says, "it opens you to joy and it keeps you alight."

Reader's opinion (1)

Lita MishraJul 28th, 2013 at 19:46 PM

Ooh.. that's the ugly face of life for Deraniyagala!

 
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