Rain fell in thick sheets, as if the sky was releasing anger held back for centuries.
Above on the toll road, the sound of thousands of vehicle wheels hitting puddles created a giant hissing noise.
That hissing competed with the thunder that boomed every few minutes.
Under the toll road, the situation turned chaotic.
The canal water that usually flowed slowly was now rising fast.
Dark brown water carried all kinds of trash.
Tree branches.
Old mattresses.
Dead rats and cats.
Everything flowed at terrifying speed.
The current overflowed past the concrete banks and started licking the asphalt path at the edge of the space under the bridge.
The fish catchers panicked.
They ran along the water’s edge, trying to save their anchored nets.
Heavy rain was their main enemy.
The strong current swept nets away and destroyed them.
The plecostomus that usually hid at the muddy bottom were carried downstream or into unreachable drainpipes.
Ali stood at the edge of the canal.
The thin plastic jacket he wore couldn’t hold back the heavy rain.
His body was soaked through.
His teeth chattered from the cold.
He held the nylon rope tied to his net.
The rope was taut.
The knot was already loose.
“Damn it!” Ali shouted.
The rope snapped in his hands.
He watched his net get dragged away by the current.
His favorite nylon net, his only good piece of equipment, disappeared into that dark brown water.
Ali could only stand there, staring blankly, while the rain soaked his whole body.
Ali’s friends had the same fate.
One by one their nets were damaged or swept away.
They gathered under a tin roof near Mpok Lela’s stall.
Their faces were dull, eyes red from cold and frustration.
“My net broke,” said one man with a hoarse voice.
“I don’t have money to buy a new net.”
“Me too.
All the fish are gone.
Not even trash got caught,” another replied.
Ali didn’t speak.
He just sat on the wet floor, staring at his empty palms.
…
Inside the shack, Anom sat cross-legged.
He was just quiet, listening to the sound of rain hitting the tarpaulin roof of his shack.
Not a single drop came through the ceiling.
As if there was an invisible wall refusing to let the fiercest rain splash in.
Inem sat beside him with her eyes closed.
Her face was turned toward the roaring water only a few meters from the shack door.
She looked very calm.
As if she was listening to music in her head.
“You’re not worried, Nem?” Anom asked.
His voice was soft, almost swallowed by the rumbling thunder.
“The water’s already risen high.
My net must be destroyed or buried in trash by now.”
Inem didn’t open her eyes.
She just smiled slightly.
“The water doesn’t want to hurt you, Anom.
The water knows you.”
Anom frowned.
The water knows you.
A sentence that sounded crazy to anyone who heard it.
How could a flood that could knock down bridges know a man like him?
But Anom didn’t argue.
Because since he met Inem, he had learned that logic didn’t always apply.
So he just stayed quiet.
Feeling the vibration of the concrete pillar against his back.
…
By late afternoon, the rain had eased into a light drizzle.
The canal current started to stabilize.
The water was still milky brown and the surface was covered in dirty foam.
The other fish catchers started going down to the water’s edge.
But their faces showed despair.
They were looking for whatever equipment might still be salvageable.
Anom stood up.
He took two blue plastic buckets.
He walked toward the spot where he had set his net the night before.
His bare feet stepped on muddy ground.
Brown mud squirted between his toes.
Ali watched from a distance with narrowed eyes.
He had just lost his best net.
His heart burned.
Anger held in his chest like embers that wouldn’t go out as he saw that familiar figure again.
Anom reached the water’s edge.
He looked at his net’s anchor rope.
Something was strange because the rope wasn’t tight like it was being pulled by strong current.
It looked a little loose.
Anom pulled slowly.
The weight at the end of the rope felt solid.
Heavy.
He pulled harder.
The net surfaced.
Anom was stunned.
His net was intact.
Not a single hole.
No tears.
And inside that net, hundreds of plecostomus were gathered.
They swam in the cramped space, jostling.
Those fish didn’t look weak.
They were fresh.
Big.
Struggling with strong force.
As if they had deliberately taken shelter in Anom’s net to escape the flood current.
Anom lifted the net.
Heavy.
The fish flopped around, their silver scales glistening under the gray sky.
Ali watched everything from a distance, his mouth hanging open in disbelief.
…
Anom immediately brought the catch to the shack.
The filleting process today was more urgent than usual.
Too many fish for one person.
He started working fast.
The knife in his right hand sliced through the tough skin of the plecostomus.
The skin that usually stuck like cement now came off smoothly.
Inem sat beside him.
Her eyes watched every move Anom made.
Occasionally she touched the water in the bucket.
Not a single drop of brown mud got in.
Anom worked until both plastic buckets were full of shiny white fillets.
…
Anom walked toward the market.
Two buckets in his hands.
He had to pass through the crowd of fish catchers still mourning their fate at the edge of the pillars.
They saw Anom.
They saw two full buckets in his hands.
The atmosphere that was full of lament suddenly went silent.
An eerie silence.
Ali stepped closer.
His thin plastic jacket was still wet.
His face was pale.
Cold.
Stressed.
He stared into Anom’s buckets.
The contrast with the muddy world around them was stark.
“This is insane, Nom,” Ali said.
His voice was hoarse.
“A flood that high.
Everyone lost their nets.
Everyone failed to catch fish.
But those fish ended up in your net?
How?”
Anom paused for a moment, then looked at Ali again, and at the other friends.
Their eyes were red from cold and lack of sleep.
There was something in those gazes.
Envy starting to burn.
“I don’t know, Ali,” Anom answered.
His voice was soft.
“Maybe the position was just right at the bend.
The current wasn’t too strong there.
Maybe I’m just lucky.”
“Lucky?” Ali laughed a little.
A bitter laugh.
“There’s no such luck like this, Anom.
This isn’t luck.
This is something else.”
Ali looked toward Anom’s shack.
“What’s really going on with you, Anom?” Ali asked.
His voice was urgent.
“Why does this water seem to only feed you?
While the rest of us are starving?”
Anom didn’t answer.
He just kept walking.
Leaving Ali standing in the drizzle.
…
At Mpok Lela’s stall, Pak Haji Duloh was taking shelter.
His eyes went wide when he saw Anom come in with two full buckets.
“Crazy!” Pak Haji Duloh stood up.
“In the middle of a flood like this you still get this much?
How come there’s no mud on them at all?”
Anom put the buckets on the wooden table.
“I don’t know, Pak Haji Duloh.
The water just didn’t want to get into my buckets.”
Pak Haji Duloh took out his scale.
The needle swayed.
The numbers jumped.
He counted fast.
His thick hands put money into a plastic bag.
Two fifty-thousand bills.
Two twenty-thousand bills.
“This is more than usual,” Pak Haji Duloh said.
Anom took the money.
He didn’t count it.
He just put it in his pants pocket.
“Bring even more tomorrow,” Pak Haji Duloh said.
“Fish supply at the market is scarce because of the flood.
Everyone’s raising prices.
This is our time to profit.”
Anom nodded.
He turned around.
Left Mpok Lela’s stall.
…
That night, Anom went back to the shack.
He sat beside Inem.
The sound of the canal water was still roaring, but its intensity had decreased.
Anom put the money on top of the cardboard.
He didn’t count it.
“People are starting to hate me, Inem,” Anom said.
Inem opened her eyes.
In the darkness under the toll road, her eyes reflected light.
“They don’t hate you, Anom.
They hate their own fate.
You’re just a mirror of what they don’t have.”
“But this isn’t fair to them.” Anom’s voice was heavy.
“I used to starve, too.
I know what hunger feels like.”
“This world was never fair, Anom.
But the water only gives what’s deserved.
To someone willing to take care of one of those who were thrown away.”
Anom sighed.
He looked at his hands.
The scars on his palms were almost gone.
He was rich today.
But he felt more isolated than ever before.