SHE sat waiting vigil on the seashore for her parents to return. But the angry waves only returned a fraying cream skirt that 13-year-old Tamarashi now wears at the relief camp that was once a marriage hall.

Every day, now, ends with a sting in its tail. For Tamarashi there is just one scene that opens and shuts and then plays again in her mind - how the waves swallowed her mother and father both of who were sitting under a coconut palm trying to sell their catch of fish.

From the thatched grille of her kitchen, Tamarashi saw the seas suddenly erupt taller than the coconut palm on the shore. "It just took me a second to land on the beach front screaming loudly. My mother, who was in a red saree was lifted off the beach about six feet high, and was getting folded into the raging waves that receded back as quickly as it had advanced," said Tamarashi crying softly into the palm of her hand.

It was only after three days that relief workers could coax Tamarashi to leave the beach.

Now she sits with her head bowed on black marble top of table that is generally filled with a marriage feast.