The day after 26/7: Part III: My struggle to reach home

It's been ages since I wrote the first two parts of the story of my date with death in the dirty waters when Mumbai overflowed. For those who haven't read, and others who want to take a quick look through it, here are the links: Part I and Part II

According to Lini's instructions, I took off my mobile phone's battery cover and battery and allowed the insides to dry. In the meantime, I went to take a bath. Lini gave me clothes to wear. Getting into dry clothes after so long was a relief. Since there was no electricity, the water pump wasn't functioning, and the residents had to carry water from the tank to their respective houses. But for now, there was enough water in the house. After Lini also got fresh, we had breakfast. I was eating after 19 hours and acidity had begun to act on me. A skipped meal usually gives me a killer headache which responds to no medicine whatsoever, and goes away only after I throw up. Now, a headache had begun, and I sure did not want to create a scene. Lini's aunt gave me a Crocin and I prayed that I'd be silently cured. Lini and I then went to bed, tired and famished, for a much needed sleep. I was woken up at 3pm by excited voices of men talking.

The relatives had returned. Thank God! They were alive after all. Unlike Lini's aunt assumed, the men had NOT stayed back at office. They were stuck on some flyover. Good place to get stuck in the rains. At least it doesn't get flooded over there. I realized later that my headache had gone and I had not thrown up. And I hadn't even caught a cold after so many wet hours! Miracles!

The day went by slowly, while I kept thinking about mom. How worried my mom must be! As if reading my mind, Lini's aunt came to me and said, "Your parents must be worried, no?"
I looked down and nodded. "Dad will be cool. It's mom that I'm worried about. She gets tensed very fast", I said and wondered how much my brother must be contributing to the emotions at home.

Night fell, finally. I really wanted the next 12 hours to go by in 12 minutes. It was surprising that in spite of all the apprehension, I slept like a baby.

Day 3: 28/7: The struggle to reach home

I woke up only when Lini shook me. The first thing that came to my mind was that I could only think of going home to my worried family if the roads were clear. I rushed to the window and stared with wide eyes at what I saw.

There was no water, there was no rain either. Yippie! I could now go home!!

Lini and I had our breakfast; I thanked and bid farewell to her family and then the two of us set out to find out whether taxis and auto rickshaws had started commuting. Also, since my phone wasn't working and everyone else's phone batteries had been discharged and landlines dead, we also went searching for open public telephone booths so that I could call home and tell my parents that I was alive.
We learnt that people, like us, were only beginning to explore waterless lands in awe. But there was not a single public telephone booth. So, we went to Lini's friend's house to see if we could get help there to make a call. No luck!
Next, we went to look for transport. Something had to take me home. If I could walk, I would. But it was too far and I did not know the way.

We saw a few auto rickshaws and asked each driver if he could take me home. When they heard where I wanted to go, they said, "You better wait before you go there. Too many landslides in that area. The roads are blocked and it's not safe. I asked them to take a different route but all of them kept refusing. Couldn't blame them. They loved their lives too!

Just before we lost hope, we spotted a halted taxi. Even though there was already a passenger in it, we asked the driver if he could take me home. He first hesitated and said that he already had a customer - a man. But after a few seconds of God-knows-what-went-through-his-head, he told the passenger, "Your location is nearby. Let me take this madam to her place. Please allow her." And the passenger willingly stepped out!

HUH? Doesn't this guy want to go home? Do I still have "HELP!!!" stuck on my forehead?

I was happy and wary at the same time. Why would this driver suddenly bend the first-come-first-served rule and offer to help me instead? It was no time for suspicion, but it is always safe to be sure. So, I took out a pen and paper and in a tone that was audible to the driver, I told Lini, "Here is the taxi's registration number." I copied it from the number plate and gave it to her saying aloud, "I'll call you when I reach home. If I don't call you even after one hour from now, you know what to do. You have the taxi number." I winked at her and I know she understood. (Her landline was dead but the driver didn’t know that.)

And there began my journey home. It took 20 minutes of driving through clear roads with hardly any vehicles commuting, to reach home. I thanked the driver and paid him more than the meter fare. I was full of apprehension while I climbed the stairs to my house. I could imagine the hugs and words of relief that would be showered on me by my family.

I was at my doorstep. I sighed home sweet home and rang the bell. Aha! The bell rang, there was electricity at my place!

My mom opened the door and loudly announced without a smile, "She's here." My brother came rushing to the door and gave me an angry stare and told mom, "Give a call to Kurla Police station."

...to be continued...

*** For Part IV, click here ***

The day after 26/7: Part II: Homeward journey continues

Continued from the previous post... (I really did not mean to delay this post so much. I was just too occupied with other things.)


To go or not to go was the question. I had no time to stand and analyse. I wanted to reach home fast. Very fast. But my common sense knocked hard at me, or so I'd like to believe, and told me to believe in the majority of people who were coming back from the deep water warning us not to go any further. BUT I was being ruled majorly by my fear of the dark. Water or no water, I was sure as hell not walking into pitch darkness. Nah! I told them I'm not going any further, did not wait to see their reaction and like a few people around, got into the first bus in the line. It was a double decker and there was no place to sit. I saw there were some seats where a third person managed to squeeze in. I did the same. I saw a seat with two females, asked them to shift just a bit and tried to fit in there.

There was knee deep water all around and I was glad to be out of it for a while. Called mom and told her the situation. She agreed with my decision of spending the night in the bus. I was quite comfortable in my seat after a while of shifting and adjusting. The rain did not stop. The lights in the bus were on- by public demand. Every time the bus driver put the lights off, there'd be a loud 'AAAEEYYYYY!!' and the lights would be on again!

At around midnight, I noticed a Maruti 800 parked just outside the bus. The water had reached about 2 inches below the window of the car. That was my reference level for the night, to check how much the water level would change. I kept dozing off through the night. Mom called many times to make sure I was safe. I often checked the car window. Not an inch difference in the water level all through the night.

Day 2: The day after 26/7

It was 5:30 am when it was bright enough for anyone interested to start walking or swimming. I was wide awake listening to people's discussions about what they were planning to do. Many of them formed small groups and left the bus. Someone tapped on my shoulder. I turned around to see a girl who seemed to be my age.

"Where do you have to go?" she asked me.

"To the suburban side."

"Are you coming with us? My friend and I are going to start walking. We stay in Kurla. You can go ahead after that."

"Walking? In so much water? No, I rather wait in this bus for the water to recede. You carry on. Thanks! *smile* "

*no smile* My my! The girl was serious! "How long are you going to wait? You think this water is going to vanish? It’s going to take very long. I'm telling you. Join us."

She sounded convincing, but I wondered why everyone wanted me to go with them. Did I have a 'HELP ME!!!' written all over me or something? I called mom and we decided that I should go with her. Well, mom knows best!

I was sort of dry by then and shuddered at the thought of walking in water again. We stepped out. The water was sooo cold at that time of the morning. But we didn't step back. And there, once again, started my journey back home. We were about 6 or 7 people in the group. We held hands so that no one would fall and die... unnoticed! On our way, we met a man in his fifties and asked him the way. He was a local and had come to help people find their way.

"There is a short cut from here. Follow me."

"Uncle, is the water level high where we're going?"

"No, no, there's no water anywhere ahead," he assured us.

Yay!! We smiled at each other happily and followed him in knee deep water. It was still raining, but thankfully, not too heavily. After a while of walking in knee deep water (I can't really estimate right now for exactly how long I walked), we reached an area where the roads were just wet - not even any flowing water there. How very happy we were! After all, local uncleji was right!

Further ahead we walked, water rose, and this time we were in waist deep water. Felt so icky and funny walking in that!

Such a wavy road it must have been.

Knee deep - no water - waist deep - no water - chest deep - no water - neck deep - no water - knee deep again... and then... we saw a crowd of people ahead of us. And there was a lot of shouting and screaming too. Something was surely wrong there. We went ahead. (This time, only 3 of us from the group were left - the girl who called me (Lini), her friend and I. The others had gone their respective ways) As we neared the crowd, the men turned back to look at us.

"Females can go back. You cannot go any further. Go back."

!!! Go Back?? Ridiculous!! That's what I feel now. Back then my thoughts were: I have to go back. Must look for another way to go. Or will have to wait here till the water is all gone. I was so scared and sad at that time. I was so emotionally weak.
My brave companion came ahead. "Why can't we go?"

"You are short. There is 6 feet water here."

Even if I want to go, I cannot. 6 feet!!! Good lord!

"The men here aren't that tall either," she told me. "Let's go."

The men who were discouraging us were suddenly supportive and helpful. There were many locals out there who had come just to help people reach their homes safely.

With every step I took, I could feel myself getting submerged a little more. Soon, the water was touching my chin. We were on the tips of our toes trying hard to keep our noses above water. I was actually concentrating more on keeping my mouth above all that dirty water!

"Madam, chhaata bandh karo na!" (Close your umbrella)

Isshh! That's when I realised that I had my umbrella open all the while. As always, I did the best I could, to not catch a cold!

"Oh Jesus, oh Lord Jesus..." Lini kept chanting.

We were so worried, almost in tears when the water was just below the mouth. That's when someone yelled, "Hold the ropes" and then told us, "Here, here, hold this."

I held on to the thick, horizontal rope and as instructed, kept moving my legs in the water when I could feel my legs getting automatically lifted. We were made to hold bamboos too. I couldn't feel the ground for a few minutes there. It felt good... as if it was a swimming crash course. I didn't know how to swim, but still I managed to stay afloat. It felt great!

Soon, I felt my toes touching the ground and then I was walking on earth again and the water level kept decreasing. I was alive :) They had asked the females not to go further, and we had managed to cross that barrier. That was one part I really loved. Before going any further, I turned around to see where the bamboos and ropes suddenly appeared from.

Aah! That was a good arrangement they have there. Bamboos were fixed to the ground at about 20 feet from each other and ropes- very thick ropes- had been tied to them forming a link. There were people holding the bamboos to keep it in place. They even held some bamboo sticks horizontally. The purpose? To help people less than 6ft of height keep their heads above water!

"Come on. We're reaching. My house is just around the corner." Lini had already convinced me that trying to go home would be very dangerous for me and that I should stay at her place till things were manageable. I turned and we started going ahead. After a few minutes, we reached the last dangerous spot of our journey, where we all had to walk in a curve, follow the person just in front of us and not step to the sides. There were invisible boundary lines. Anyone who stepped to the sides were slipping and falling. Of course, the locals were there too, positioned and ready to help people out of any danger. Last barrier crossed successfully :)

We were again on a road with only ankle-deep water and reached Lini's building's gate. The compound was at a lower level than the road. So, through knee deep water we waded into her building. Inside, we saw the wet building walls and realised that the ground floor was totally submerged on the previous day. Lini stayed on the first floor.

She pressed the doorbell. Silence. No electricity. Knock knock! A smiling lady (Lini's young aunt) opened the door.

"Aah... you're the first one to come back. No one has reached yet."

"No one's back? Where are they?"

"They stayed back in office itself."

"Oh! They told you that?"

"No. I'm just assuming."

Assuming??? Good lord! Bring them back home, whoever they are!

After a few minutes of introduction and explanations for why the hall was full of things from the ground floor house (it was because the ground floor was submerged), I fished out my phone from my wet bag. Blank screen. Click click cluck cluck.. Not working. The last I spoke to mom was at around 5:35 am. Lini's phone? Blank. Landline? Dead.

Mom is a bag of worries. I just HAVE to let her know I'm safe. Have to find out if dad and brother reached. Hope that Lini's relatives will reach. Alive.

...to be continued... 

The next post is going to be really delayed because I'm caught up with life transforming procedures!)

*** For Part III, click here ***

The day after 26/7 : Part I

Coming up is a long narration - an account of the 26/7 floods in Mumbai, that almost killed me. I don't want to cut it short and miss details, so, I wrote it in parts. Each part is NOT one day.

Day 1: 26/7

It was around 4 pm and I was on my way back home from college. College is almost 50 kms away from home (rail route). It had been pouring since morning. I normally travel by train, but since it was flooded at most areas, the tracks were under water, and trains had stopped running. So, I had to take a bus home. Slowly and not so steadily, after reaching less than halfway, the bus stopped behind an uncountable number of other vehicles. Nothing was moving beyond this area. I was in Kurla, one of the most low lying regions in Mumbai. Guess the time. 9:30pm! Yeah, that's how much time it took for the bus to travel a distance it would normally cover in less than an hour.

As we all sat there wondering when the bus would move and praying hard that things would be normal soon, a well dressed, sensible looking young man climbed into the bus from the front door and made an announcement.

"Buses are not going to move till 12 noon tomorrow. The roads ahead are flooded, so vehicles will not move and trying to walk is very foolish and dangerous. So right now, you are in the safest place. Those of you who don't have place to sit, you can try the buses ahead of this one. There are seats vacant in there. Try calling up your people at home and tell them the situation. But remember, right now you are in the safest place possible."

He stepped out and walked to the bus behind. That was nice of him. But what I heard was not nice at all. 12 noon tomorrow??!! I was hoping to reach home by 10 pm. Today!

Dolphin (MTNL) network was still good while Hutch, Airtel and others did not work. I was a Dolphin user. So, for the next couple of hours, there were lots of people in the bus trying to call up at their homes from my cell. Some of them succeeded. I spoke to mom. She was at home. Our landline phone was one of the very few phones that worked in our area. Magic or God's grace - whatever you like to believe. Dad was on his way back home from work and my brother was walking back home in knee deep water with his college friends. A few people in the bus started getting off saying there were many more people walking and crossing the Kurla bridge. They called me too to join them. Now these 'people' were younger that the young announcer, not well dressed and not a bit sensible looking. But still, I saw a ray of hope. Reaching home was the only thing on my mind.
Once I cross Kurla bridge, I'll get a bus home. That would be fast.

So, I got down and followed these people. Bad crowd. Scary actually, thinking of it now. Walking, we reached the bus that was first in line. No vehicles ahead of it. Only darkness and lots of water. And oh yes, there were people, walking towards us as if they just came out of the water. All they had to say was - "Don't try to go ahead, water current is strong. Anyone could be pulled in. That's why we're coming back."

I wouldn't dare! I can't even swim :-(

"Come with us, we can try. All you need is to cross the bridge. Come with us."

Why do these people always have things to do, which everyone else is advising them not to? And why do they keep calling me with them? And why did I listen to them the first time? What should I do? Maybe they have good intentions? To go or not go to - was the question.

...to be continued...

 *** For Part II, click here ***