Angels on the streets
It was like any other clear morning as I leave home for work waving to known faces on my way. Its 26th July, 2005. A day full of the regular morning humdrum of Mumbai life.
By afternoon its raining heavily with regular outbursts of thunder & lightening & yet we all dispel it as Mumbai’s monsoon at its best. And then nature’s unpredictable streak unfolds. By 4pm most of Mumbai’s conveyance comes to a stand still. The cell phones connectivity is at God’s mercy that allows an occasional SMS to leave the cell phone with no promises to deliver it to the recipient.
I leave office at 4.30pm along with my colleagues & we all disintegrate in different directions at Andheri Station. The local trains, Mumbai’s very backbone is grounded. As hoards of people resign themselves to walking home, I board a BEST bus that is probably headed towards Dadar. I feel lucky as I get a seat in the back of the bus. As the bus proceeds, it gets caught in a crippling traffic jam. There are cars ahead that have got submerged in the water & abandoned by its owners. Due to the abandoned vehicles, the rest of the traffic is immovable. The girl sitting next to me is going in the same direction as me & hence we decide to stick together.
We wait for 2 hrs in the bus for a miracle. The water level’s rising & looks like a mini river by now with forceful currents. Around 7.45pm when the bus seems redundant, we decide to leave the bus. We step out in thigh deep water & suddenly realize that venturing this way was a lot tougher than it looked. Due to the strong currents I take off my shoes & start walking bare feet feeling the ground where I realize the presence of potholes. Thousands walk the path along with us like headless chickens.
As we trudge in the murky water in the dark for about a km, a sudden gush of strong current at a particular junction throws us all in a quandary disseminating all in different directions clutching on anything hard for dear life.
I get separated from my bus friend & look frantically for her, holding on to a car to avoid getting swept away. I hear someone screaming, “Where are you” & recognize her voice across the road a few feet away. I shout back in acknowledgement to let her know my exact position & ask her name. In the chaos we had forgotten to introduce ourselves. She shouts that she’s Shobha & I jokingly shout back that it was a pleasure meeting her.
I wonder how Pascal (from Pascal’s Law) would have calculated the pressure of water rising around. This was something I had seen happening to other people in other places on TV while sipping tea. This is Mumbai…how can this be possible?
Shobha & me stay close together alternately taking lead. Our cell phones ring on & off but we are unable to retrieve our cells from our bags & then my battery dies.
As we reach the Santa Cruz subway we realize that it’s totally submerged with the water’s depth to around 10-12 ft. Since we can’t get through, we walk further in search of another opening into the western part of the city & spot a few slum dwellers form a human chain. They are directing people through a short cut to reach the main street in the western side. We immediately follow instructions as they guide us on to a narrow wooden pier submerged in water. One wrong step shall plunge us into the nulah & sure death. These angels guide one person at a time holding our hands, pointing exactly where to land our feet, constantly warning us to be careful since this is a perilous crossing. Safely on the other side, we wade our way through a slum & buy some biscuits at a small joint quickly devouring it ravenously. Its 9.30pm. We are still about 7kms away from home. We walk in the middle of the road fearing an open manhole as well as gaping gutters.
Finally we reach Khar & I separate from Shobha who takes a by lane leading to her home. It’s around 10.30pm. The entire Linking road is full of an endless line of wearily walking people. As I approach Bandra, I have to take a by lane to reach home. The roads empty & flooded. A man beckons to me from the shadows of a small pan shop. He looks tough sporting a thick moustache & I’m spooked as he walks towards me. I fasten my pace & hear him shout, “Be careful of the 3 guys walking ahead. They are drunk”. I sigh in relief as I realize that I had failed to recognize this angel.
I start running oblivious of the sharp stones cutting my feet & finally reach home. My distraught family have perched themselves on the window waiting for me. As they crowd around me hugging me, I jokingly remind them to be good to me in future.
After a refreshing bath, I relate to my folks about the days adventure as my daughter sits tending my injured feet listening wide-eyed. I talk about the brave slum dwellers who we treat like the pariah’s of our society. They had risen above themselves to help people who would have otherwise met disastrous fates. Loads of people caught unawares walking the streets wearing gold ornaments etc but there was not a stray incident of robbery or street violence.
Some other angels offered food & water to weary people walking past Bandra Station. I consider myself lucky. Millions were stranded in crowded trains & buses for up to 12 hrs & reached home only the next day.
At all stages in our journey we came across angels helping / guiding people. There was no pathos in the eyes of anyone walking the street. Just guts & determination. Such strength in ordinary people was very heartening. Mother nature in this trying time brought out the philanthropist in all of us.
Mumbai recorded a whooping 944mm of rainfall in 24 hours toppling Chirapunji’s record of the place receiving the highest rainfall in India.
Copyright © BuntysBanter 2005
By afternoon its raining heavily with regular outbursts of thunder & lightening & yet we all dispel it as Mumbai’s monsoon at its best. And then nature’s unpredictable streak unfolds. By 4pm most of Mumbai’s conveyance comes to a stand still. The cell phones connectivity is at God’s mercy that allows an occasional SMS to leave the cell phone with no promises to deliver it to the recipient.
I leave office at 4.30pm along with my colleagues & we all disintegrate in different directions at Andheri Station. The local trains, Mumbai’s very backbone is grounded. As hoards of people resign themselves to walking home, I board a BEST bus that is probably headed towards Dadar. I feel lucky as I get a seat in the back of the bus. As the bus proceeds, it gets caught in a crippling traffic jam. There are cars ahead that have got submerged in the water & abandoned by its owners. Due to the abandoned vehicles, the rest of the traffic is immovable. The girl sitting next to me is going in the same direction as me & hence we decide to stick together.
We wait for 2 hrs in the bus for a miracle. The water level’s rising & looks like a mini river by now with forceful currents. Around 7.45pm when the bus seems redundant, we decide to leave the bus. We step out in thigh deep water & suddenly realize that venturing this way was a lot tougher than it looked. Due to the strong currents I take off my shoes & start walking bare feet feeling the ground where I realize the presence of potholes. Thousands walk the path along with us like headless chickens.
As we trudge in the murky water in the dark for about a km, a sudden gush of strong current at a particular junction throws us all in a quandary disseminating all in different directions clutching on anything hard for dear life.
I get separated from my bus friend & look frantically for her, holding on to a car to avoid getting swept away. I hear someone screaming, “Where are you” & recognize her voice across the road a few feet away. I shout back in acknowledgement to let her know my exact position & ask her name. In the chaos we had forgotten to introduce ourselves. She shouts that she’s Shobha & I jokingly shout back that it was a pleasure meeting her.
I wonder how Pascal (from Pascal’s Law) would have calculated the pressure of water rising around. This was something I had seen happening to other people in other places on TV while sipping tea. This is Mumbai…how can this be possible?
Shobha & me stay close together alternately taking lead. Our cell phones ring on & off but we are unable to retrieve our cells from our bags & then my battery dies.
As we reach the Santa Cruz subway we realize that it’s totally submerged with the water’s depth to around 10-12 ft. Since we can’t get through, we walk further in search of another opening into the western part of the city & spot a few slum dwellers form a human chain. They are directing people through a short cut to reach the main street in the western side. We immediately follow instructions as they guide us on to a narrow wooden pier submerged in water. One wrong step shall plunge us into the nulah & sure death. These angels guide one person at a time holding our hands, pointing exactly where to land our feet, constantly warning us to be careful since this is a perilous crossing. Safely on the other side, we wade our way through a slum & buy some biscuits at a small joint quickly devouring it ravenously. Its 9.30pm. We are still about 7kms away from home. We walk in the middle of the road fearing an open manhole as well as gaping gutters.
Finally we reach Khar & I separate from Shobha who takes a by lane leading to her home. It’s around 10.30pm. The entire Linking road is full of an endless line of wearily walking people. As I approach Bandra, I have to take a by lane to reach home. The roads empty & flooded. A man beckons to me from the shadows of a small pan shop. He looks tough sporting a thick moustache & I’m spooked as he walks towards me. I fasten my pace & hear him shout, “Be careful of the 3 guys walking ahead. They are drunk”. I sigh in relief as I realize that I had failed to recognize this angel.
I start running oblivious of the sharp stones cutting my feet & finally reach home. My distraught family have perched themselves on the window waiting for me. As they crowd around me hugging me, I jokingly remind them to be good to me in future.
After a refreshing bath, I relate to my folks about the days adventure as my daughter sits tending my injured feet listening wide-eyed. I talk about the brave slum dwellers who we treat like the pariah’s of our society. They had risen above themselves to help people who would have otherwise met disastrous fates. Loads of people caught unawares walking the streets wearing gold ornaments etc but there was not a stray incident of robbery or street violence.
Some other angels offered food & water to weary people walking past Bandra Station. I consider myself lucky. Millions were stranded in crowded trains & buses for up to 12 hrs & reached home only the next day.
At all stages in our journey we came across angels helping / guiding people. There was no pathos in the eyes of anyone walking the street. Just guts & determination. Such strength in ordinary people was very heartening. Mother nature in this trying time brought out the philanthropist in all of us.
Mumbai recorded a whooping 944mm of rainfall in 24 hours toppling Chirapunji’s record of the place receiving the highest rainfall in India.
Copyright © BuntysBanter 2005
posted by Bunty's Banter at 11:39 PM
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