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Then came the terrible day. The whole day it had been raining as if the heavens were descending upon us in the form of water, and from our house we could see the swollen river coursing rapidly along, and as far as the eye could see there was nothing but water everywhere. The familiar islands and the fields were gone–there was only one great mass water, reflecting the dull grey of the sky. The little fishing boats that were our delight lay for a while in the midst of the waters, tossing about aimlessly and were soon gone, for they had been cut adrift from their moorings. My old grandfather, who had witnessed just such a flood years ago when he was a little boy, shook his head and anxiously said that the Ravi would play us false, if we did not take care.
That night we sat up for a long time listening anxiously to the reverlry of frogs and the pitter-patter of the rain as it fell on the roof of the house. The cattle had been brought to the verandah for safety. We went to bed, but lay awake, waiting for the breaking of grey dawn. Then we all started up in a mad hurry, for suddenly the alarm had been raised and the whole village was in a panic. The water had risen beyond all bounds, and it appeared as village would be washed away.
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