"Suppose you want to know my story?"

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. Of course I was here for his story! I didn't travel all the way to Sumatra, to have some tea with an old man!

I am the reporter of the People Gazette. In year 1883, at Java and Sumatra, there was the explosion of Krakatoa. Some 36,000 lives lost in that disaster. There were only a few survivors, and one of them was the idiotic babbling man in front of me.

"I guess I shall tell you my story too." He sighed.

Right then, I felt I was going to explode with impatience. But instead I gestured for him to continue.

"Ah, so you want to hear the story then? Very well then I shall tell you."

"The story started when I was an itty-bitty boy in the small town in Sumatra. I don't recall its name but never mind that."

My name was Sakti Bhagavadgītā. As a boy, I was quiet and loved to watch the butterflies as they would flutter past my fingertips, just inches away. There, under the sun as I muttered their scientific names.

"Graphium evemon, Delias pasithoe."

My parents would often laugh and joke on my future as a scientist. I would smile and go into my backyard to watch for more butterflies.

At school, kids would laugh at me, a reason that is unknown to me. They would pick on me leaving me feeling ashamed of the unknown deed I did. There was this one particular kid, Katika. His eyes were always squinty and he was a merciless teaser to me. I often avoided him as much as I could.

"Now we shall skip to the part of the Explosion you see? If I told you my life time story waiting for the explosion, that shall take a lifetime yes?"

I rolled my eyes mentally at the senile man while furiously writing notes in my notebook.

"Yes, please continue."

Then it happened. The BOOM sound and the world was crumbling right before my eyes. I looked for somewhere to take shelter. Then I saw a boat. I raced toward it with my head spinning. The boat was rocking back and forth and I pushed it into the chaotic ocean near my village. The boat was very heavy! After I pushed the boat into the ocean, I sank down on one of the benches, massaging my sore arms. After a split second, I registered something in my dim mind. Mamma and Papa were left behind! But it was too late for that. I watched sadly at the screaming people in my hometown as my boat rocked away from Sumatra. My home.

I cried behind a metal bench as the boat floated away slowly. Soon I fell asleep.

When I woke up, the sky was a gray color. I sighed with relief that I was safe, then reality hit me, my family dead, my home town gone, all the things and people I loved and cared for were now gone forever.

"Why are you here?" A gruff voice snarled out of the blue.

Then voice shook me, I looked around wildly. Who could possibly be on the boat too? Was I imagining things? The voice had a menacing tone; only one person would be like that, Katika.

Katika? The bully at my school? The one who I forever hated? Slowly, I replayed how I got on board the boat. Katika must have gotten on first but when I got on I was too busy to notice him and he could have been sleeping.

Suddenly a violent wave shook the boat and with a cry I got smashed against the metal bench. When the waves past, I surveyed the boat, I didn't see Katika there.

What took me by surprise was the sudden remorse that swept over me. I knew I was supposed to feel relief, even joy that my worst enemy was off the boat. Still, I knelt down on my knees and started crying.

Then I saw a boy rocking in the waves.

"Hey, you sitting stone! How about you try to rescue me instead of crying about me like I am already dead or something!"

I looked up. Katika was there paddling towards the boat. I quickly looked around for something to rescue Katika with. I knew I had to do something, another wave was coming and I knew Katika would drown this time. I propped up my paddle. I poked him attempting to lug him back into the boat. No that would not work, he was too heavy.

Thinking quickly, I overturned a barrel of sardines that was next to a couple of bread loaves , which was left inside the boat into the sea. I let out a sigh of relief seeing the barrel floating against the angry sea. I had not realized that I was holding my breath.

"Katika! Climb onto this barrel and hop into the boat!" I shouted desperately from the edge of the boat.

No reply.

Suddenly, I became frantic. Did he drown?

"Katika. Katika! KATIKA!"

"Hey, I am right here brat."

I squinted, peering closely at the rough sea. Salt water sprayed at my contorted face. Where was Katika? Suddenly, I saw a bobbing brown mop. Leaning of the edge of my boat, I peered furiously at the mop, hoping desperately it was what I thought it was.

"Hey, stop staring at me!"

It was Katika! I quickly yelled at him to get on the sardine barrel that was still bobbing on the other side of the boat with waves crashing into it.

As Katika drew closer to the boat, I heaved him up using the sardine barrel. As Katika and I finally tumbled into the boat, the huge wave crashed down on to us. Luckily, none of us were hurt. But as I looked over the boat the sardine barrel was gone. I mumbled sadly. Now we only had a few bread loaves left. Suddenly, I felt a big wet hand clamp onto my shoulder.

"It is okay, right kiddo? I hated sardines anyway."

Startled, I turned around. It was Katika!

"I mean, if we can survive giant waves and an explosion, we can survive the sea right?" he asked with a smile on his face.

I smiled back weakly.

"But what about the food?" I whispered worriedly.

"Don't worry kiddo! We are the survivors of Krakatoa!" he laughed.

I laughed with him as I tried to think positive about the situation.

"Bread?" asked Katika as he handed a loaf of soggy bread into my weak hand.

"Yes, sure, I would like that." I mumbled uncertainly as Katika wrestled the loaf into my cold wet hand.

"Don't worry survivor! Let's eat some bread as a toast for surviving outrfirst day at sea!"

As we laughed together, our boat slowly drifted toward the setting sun. It will take some time, I thought, but Katika and I will survive! I know we will! With that, I gazed up at the sun, at the distant string of future that only fate knew what would happen.

"And that was it."

"It is? What about the next part? How did you arrive back to Sumatra? What happened to Katika?"

"You wanted to hear a hero's story correct?" the man laughed, "and I gave you one! A nice story to tell your boss! The rest of my story is all boring! Katika eventually got a new name and we now like to stay in touch even though he is quite busy!"

"What was is his name?" I enquired.

"John Coldech!" He mumbled. "Yes, yes, I remember! It is indeed John Coldech!" He exclaimed excitedly.

That took me by surprise.

"You mean the internationally famous author of Stolen by the Sea?" I cried. "I am a fan of his book!"

"Yes, that is the one I would believe." He laughed happily.

And that is how I left him, laughing gleefully with his head in who knows where. With a magnificent story written meticulously on a notebook in my pocket, I walked happily to my office to proclaim the news of a million dollar worth story of two unlikely friends who braved Mother Nature for survival.