The trees started floating in. Sundari and Keora. Whole trees. Stumps with roots protruding in all directions. Leaves creating a long trail on the sea water. They streamed by BNS Modhumati, as the navy's patrol craft cruised for hours towards Dublar Char, the island first to receive the brunt of the hurricane.

On the shores, the trees had taken on a curious look they looked as if somebody had torched the whole forest, turning bronze. Grim reminders of what awaited ahead.

In the distance, a menacing black cloud had formed. Suddenly, the wind was blowing with a full force our caps and jackets flew in the air. In the distance the outline of an island was visible. A Navy ship anchored a bit to the right.

Then came the stench. Stench of fried fish that makes you almost sick. Through the binoculars came in view of boats, moored haphazardly by the shore. Then we saw the smokes rising and a few scrawny figures standing by the water.

This was Alor Koley, the part of the Dublar Char island that first faced the wind and was totally flattened.

It was already dark when a country boat took us to the shore. The picture that met us was even darker. Hundreds of fishermen are wandering on the island's sandy beach. Hardened by winds, blackened by daylong exposure to the sun, they looked at us vacantly. Only a few lamps burned timidly in the boats.

There we met Alamgir, a 29-year-old fisherman. His eyes are sunken. Limbs trembling.

“I had seen 35 bodies. Half buried in the sand. Some floating. All in this Dublar Char,” he said. “The actual number would be higher. I have heard that there are many more dead in Meher Ali.”

Meher Ali forms another part of this vast island, more famous for the Ras Mela, an annual festival under a full moon.

Commander GM Kawsar Alam, in charge of BNS Turag Offshore patrol vessel, briefing journalist on his ship moored off Dublar Char said so far 40 bodies have been recovered and buried in Dublar Char and there are still 200 missing.

“But there are likely to be more casualties,” Kawsar whose team was the first to start relief and rescue operation in this Island 110 km off Mongla said. “Office Kella and Majher Kella, the two other places of Dublar Char were the worst hit as they were just beside the sea. Nothing is left there of the homes.”

Mishir Ali standing in the middle of his devastated home looked even more desperate. “We are facing water crisis. We have to dig holes in the sand and collect whatever little fresh water gathers there. But that water is undrinkable too. Many of us are facing diarrhoea.”

A navy official said he saw a man sitting under the open sky and vomiting violently. The cry for water and saline is ringing loud on this forlorn place. We saw several such waterholes and people were crossing from one part of the island to another with pots, searching for water. Navy is supplying such necessities as much as possible. But the needs keep on growing.

Joynal Mia told us of another problem shortage of diesel. “We can't go out to sea for fishing as our diesel stocks were washed away. If we can't fish, we can't survive.”

“We assume there are some 25,000 fishermen here,” said Commander AZM Jalaluddin who commands BNS Modhumoti. “We have been supplying them some diesel from our ships so that they can start life anew.”

But life became too unbearable for these island people when the hurricane hit them on November 15 night. The tidal surge came as high as 20 feet and the boats stuck up high on the island and forest are a testimony to that.

“We heard the danger signal 4 and many of us had no where to go,” said Masum. “They just stayed put in their thatched houses. But when the wind started blowing hard, we took our boats inside the canals and forest.”

They slipped under the floor of the boats and holed up. But then the waves came and tipped the boats, crashing one to another.

“I was hiding under my boat's floor, but it just went on twirling,” said Masum. “The boat rose 10 feet up and crashed and the next moment I found myself in the roiling water. I was floating away, something was tugging me away with a violent force.”

But he hit something a Keora tree, and he clung to it for his dear life. The cold waves lashed him continuously, the trees and branches broken off by the winds hit him on the face. But Masum just would not let go of his life saving tree. Three hours later, the water went down and he started walking deeper in to the forest. Then he lay there panting, praying that the dear God would keep him alive to see his wife and sons again.

Those who come and stay in Dublar Char are all like Masum and Alamgir. They come from as far off places as Satkhira in November, leaving behind their families and fish until March before the storms come. They borrow money from local money lenders--one Kamal is the most influential of them all, and buy boats and nets and boat engines. They give their fish at throw away prices as little as Tk 2,000 for a maund (here in this island, the lenders count 60 kgs and not 40 to make a maund) to the money lenders until their loans are all repaid.

And when the hurricane Sidr hit them hard, they lost all their fish. Alamgir for example claimed he lost Tk 40,000 worth of dried fish. Santosh, trying to cook some rice under the open starry sky, said he had Tk 25,000 dried fish stacked on the shelves. All is lost now.

The villages of Dublar Char now look like some sticks and debris. The bamboos stick out to remind of houses once existed here. And there is no difference between the remainders of life and the trees in the island forest. As our boat entered a narrow canal and negotiated the sunken boats to chug forward in the evening, the trees looked like slanted toothpicks. Their leaves were one, only the scraggy branches remained.

And once the hurricane stopped, these godforsaken people started searching through such scraggy forests in search of their friends and relatives.

“We were all lost. We did not know who was washed away and who remained,” says Jamil. “We shouted out our names and when replies came we rushed. When the morning came, we roamed around and finally found our friends.”

But Moinul was one of the less unlucky ones. When the boat beside him capsized, all his three neighbours were washed away and were still missing. In the morning, Moinul found four bodies in the sand. Two could be identified and sent home. But the rest two were buried on the island.

However, Moni Sardar, a young boy in his teens, was too lucky to be alive and found alive. He has been new to this island only three years ago he came here to the Ras Mela, and then finally settled down to be a fisherman.

“I was inside my boat and then was washed away. I found a bamboo roof floating by in the high waves and grabbed it for my life,” he said. “I was bobbing and going for miles and then found a tree to grab. I tied myself to the tree and stayed there until morning.”

Would this boy still linger on this island of death and horror? Even after what he had gone through?

Moni smiled. “Where else could I go? This is my life, this is my destiny. God is there and also the sea.”