Such a moment is an hour of reckoning for writers, intellectuals and all those men and women who listen to the dictates of their conscience. It presents a grim and terrible scenario of what the situation is. It will be as if there is a nuclear war, Arundhati Roy observes very succinctly “our cities and forests, our fields and villages will burn for days. The rivers will turn into poison. The air will become fire. The wind will spread the flames. When all there is to burn is burned and the fires go out, the smoke will rise and put out the sun. The earth will be shrouded in darkness. There will be no day, only an endless night. Temperatures will drop well below freezing and nuclear winter will begin. The water will turn into toxic ice. Radioactive fallout will seep through the earth and contaminate groundwater. Most living beings, animals and plants, fish and birds, will die. Only rats and cockroaches breed, multiply and compete with relict and foraging humans for what little food there is... Burnt and blind, bald and diseased, carrying the cancerous carcasses of our children in our arms, where will we go? What will we drink? What will we breathe? (The End of Imagination 62) . Besides, who will be sure who will survive? The author scoffs at the suggestion of some medical specialists to take iodine pills, stay indoors, consume only stored water and food, and avoid milk. She sadly laments that this is not the case. And so