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The power of the cyclones is concentrated into a narrow path by the bay's triangular shape. Wide at the bottom and narrow at the top, it funnels the cyclones as they rumble northward from the Indian Ocean, building up ferocious tides. Generally born during the hottest time of the year (which around the Bay of Bengal is in the spring or fall), a storm system begins to build as heated, moist air is sucked north into the bay. The hot-air mass rises, creating an updraft. When the air inside the system cools, its moisture condenses into rain, releasing heat, which in turn sends more hot air upward with ever greater velocity.
As the process continues, the earth's rotation causes the column of rising air to spiral. Fueled by a constant supply of hot tropical air, the storm feeds on itself, generating roaring winds that swirl around its "eye." When the system reaches cooler and dryer air on land, it begins to lose force. By then, however, the storm may have released energy equivalent to that of about 9 million Hiroshima-type atom bombs.
Despite the ever present threat of raging cyclones, poor farmers from Bangladesh's overpopulated mainland have continued streaming onto the little islands in the Ganges delta in the hope of finding cultivable land. So far, the government has been reluctant to turn back the human tide, and unable to evacuate the chars before a cyclone roars through. Government advisories, officials in Dhaka claimed last week, enabled thousands of peasants to scramble to safety before the most recent cyclone struck. Yet at least 1.2 million of those caught in the maelstrom had no idea in advance that the whirlwind was on its way.
The government also failed to inspire confidence in the immediate aftermath of the catastrophe. Even as local newspapers were estimating the death toll at more than 15,000, Dhaka by week's end officially reported just over 2,000 fatal- ities. At the national cyclone center in the capital, authorities simply said that they had lost touch with many of the islands and that there was little hope for their residents.
As the weather began to clear, rescue teams managed at last to take to the waters and pick up survivors. At least 4,000 men, women and children were saved; many of them had clung to floating bamboo rooftops or pieces of driftwood. One 14-year-old girl clutched a piece of timber for 18 hours before she was pulled to safety. A man was said to have held on to his wooden bed for two days before a vessel found him.
For every person saved, however, several others were lost. "We fear that many bodies may have drifted out to sea, making it impossible to recover them," said a navy spokesman. Some of those who were rescued died later of exposure or shock. Even those who endured every one of the dangers found scant relief after the storm had passed. In a relief camp in Urirchar, Taslim Ali wished to do nothing but mourn his lost son. "How can I live in this world?" he asked again and again and again. Elsewhere, a boy, saved after he had seen both his parents and his younger sister drowned, lost his mind.