July, the 26th

Genre: Real Life (2005)

'Mumbai will be made into a Shanghai' announced our PM back in 2004. A massive infrastructure boost was planned - flyovers, metro rails, monorails, freeways, skyscrapers, etc etc and finally a slum free Mumbai! I always hated these slums. They made my walk everyday to Andheri station into such a messy ordeal. The hypocritical Indian media had told me they steal my share of power, water and infrastructure without paying any taxes. So true I thought; Throw them back to their villages for spoiling my beautiful city.

It seemed just another day at college. Except that the calendar read 26/07/2005. Rains were deficient again for July. The Met Department had given out its customary 'Heavy rains in isolated areas likely' warning. Yawn… Around 10am, the sky was turning gloomy. I played Nostradamus and advised my friend who stayed far away to leave early as ‘there will be rain today like no other this season’. I thought I was just joking! But the assault started soon enough. A gallon of water fell from the stars exactly every 0.14 nanoseconds. We watched nature's awe from the comforts of our classroom. Rumours of trains getting delayed trickled in. Excitement built up with the prospects of a half-day. We wished for the rains to continue and then it would be a reality. But nature had other sinister plans..

The inevitable happened at 2.30pm. Emergency alarms asked us to evacuate immediately. But a self-proclaimed Hitler loyalist from Germany was specially imported to start lectures from that particular day itself. Obviously, lame entities like Mumbai rains and trains were too insignificant compared to her all-too-important lectures. The rest of the college vanished and finally we were released from the Nazi prison at 3pm after a long wait. So began the journey, to the Andheri railway station, a 15 min walk from college usually. We played in the rains splashing water from the small streams flowing on the sides of the road. The photographer in me rises from deep slumber with such adventures. I pulled out my proud Nokia 3200 and took shots with its princely 0.3mp camera. Everyone was awed by the only camera phone in the class back then. What clarity in the pictures dude..!

As we walked, we saw cars and bikes disappearing under water. More snaps were taken. We were now walking against waist deep water, hitting us at a great speed. We saw a 3ft long piece of tar road whizzing past us in the water. Meters away, a bike was flowing in the river, the rider trying desperately to balance himself on the seat. Great snaps they made. A woman was being swept away. We rushed to grab her. Three girls were standing on the sides of the road crying. We asked them to join us. They turned out to be first day freshers in College, travelling on their own in the ruthless Mumbai trains and rains for the very first time. Yeah, God was indeed being kind to them! Within minutes, the water had risen to our chests and manholes gushed out water with a ferocious force. Manhole covers went swirling around in the water, invisible from the surface. The reason, as we later found out later, was that the rivers (read gutters) of the city had overflown onto the streets during a 5m high tide due to which the sea water-gates were closed.

We were now holding hands to avoid falling over. And then suddenly, the 20 people strong human chain collapsed. The size 0 and size -ve girls had to be held tight to prevent them from being carried away with the water. A circle was created with these people being the centre. The guys in the circumference were facing the fury of the flood. Our legs moved zigzag as we could not balance against the angry flow. Across the road, an Auto had turned turtle and was hurling around hitting the totally submerged parked cars. For the next few moments, we just held hands, some shrieked, cried, prayed while the flood waters ferociously took us along at its will. Doomsday seemed seconds away.

In times of crisis, Life often throws the unthinkable. In the madness of the floods, a rope was being thrown across the road. A few men were tying the loose ends to trees on both sides. The first few ones amongst us being washed away with the water collided with a jerk. These men formed a human chain along the safer side of the chain and started pulling them to the sides. A few unlucky ones around flowed under the rope either to be rescued at the next rope 200m away or drown by then. Luckily all of us managed to hold onto either the ropes or to people who had already held onto these ropes. We walked along the rope and perpendicular to the flow direction, and finally to the side of the road, from where a Stairway (to Heaven) was visible.

As the waters rose still further, we were quickly led up a small hill which had slums stacked along its slope. The men who had thrown the rope turned out to be from these huts. We walked against the waterfall along the steps as we gained ground and were led to a dark room which was opened for us. Words were exchanged in Marathi and within minutes people converged with tea, biscuits, farsan and candles. Towels were arranged. Ladies from the slums invited us to stay in their huts as the night was fast approaching. We stood there speechless at their love..

They started a game of Antakshari to liven up our traumatized minds. We were too exhausted to resist. As the tempo built up in the dark candle lit room, I saw a few men running upstairs to bring down a thicker rope. On enquiring I found out that the rope had given way, not before saving quite a few. But now, an auto driver from their own slum was just washed past the initial rope. The men frantically raced past us. The song being sung was 'Hum Rahe Ya Na Rahe, Yaad Aayenge Yeh Pal' by KK. I froze. Next to me, a friend had just overheard the whole conversation. Tears rolled down her eyes as she was humming the tune. Aah, life can be cruelly strange sometimes..

With no sign of the rains relenting, we decided to move on to the college for the night through the hills. The whole area was disappointed with our decision not to spend the night at their hospitality. We took a further supply of biscuits and candles for the night and tried paying the old man who sat at the 5x5ft shop. To our surprise he abused us in Marathi and asked us to take it back immediately. Stunned at his reaction, and at life in general, we placed a couple of 100 rupee notes and ran away shouting 'Thank You's to him. Never came to know what happened to those notes. Probably it ended up torn in a dustbin if his initial reactions were to be noted.

My college being at a higher ground, water levels were not above the waist level. We moved onto the hostel buildings through the dense greenery of the campus. It was already dark and the biggest fear was snakes crawling in the water. Thankfully we made it safely through. Later we waded through waist deep water and travelled to the mess nearby. Dal-Kitchdi was made in bulk and the floating chairs had to be 'caught' with the hands and sat upon. Sitting and eating with your waists above water should be added to the list of 100-things-to-be-done-before-you-die. Washing of the plates and spoons happened by dipping them in the flood water around.

In pitch dark conditions we again created a human chain and walked back to the rooms. A mini carnival was planned there. Hostelites called it a night to remember as otherwise localites are not allowed into the rooms. 15 people enjoyed the night in the 10x10ft room till 3am and later dispersed to unknown rooms for bed. My cell angered by the shabby treatment it received from its photographer refused to be my loyalist anymore. The photos of the day were lost forever along with all the data inside it. Nokia successfully increased its new 3250 sales later in the week!

At 8am, the girls and boys converged from their respective hostels and we moved to my place. Water had receded from the roads. Left behind were stray cars and bikes and huge craters in the road washed away. Garbage and plastic stuck on top of the stranded buses, indicating the water level had reached 10+ feet the previous evening. Smashed car windows and small rocks and silt greeted us all along. 8 deaths occurred in the area with one being inside the college campus.

By 5pm, a few trains started running with a frequency of one hour. Mumbai was now trying to rise from the catastrophe of the night before. It had rained 944mm in the suburbs in the past 24 hr and 360mm in the 3 hours from noon to 3pm when the water had risen ferociously. To put it in perspective, Mumbai usually gets 2000mm spread across 4.5 months. The negative counts increased. Around 450 were confirmed dead most of them drowned or washed away and some due to landslides in the hillside slums. In addition, nearly 4000 buffalos had drowned as the cattle owners did not want to untie these animals from the dairy farms.

Power was restored to some areas after 10 days in some areas. Flooding of 30 feet was reported at Air India colony. Stories of courage and tragedy dominated headlines for weeks. People had been carried along for hundreds of meters to be rescued by roadside samaritans. A classmate was taken to a flat by a lady and in the morning she woke up frightened that she was alone with a man, the lady's husband who then calmed her down saying aunty has just gone downstairs. Another friend reached his home 60 hours after the rains began. He walked 70km over 3 days. All along he could not even connect to his home. His mother collapsed at the door seeing him alive.

We remembered the heroes who had saved us. Why did they need to risk their lives to save us all? Some of them lost theirs in the process as was reported by the papers. Where does Mumbai get this habit from? No other city in this country or world would have come out in such a magnitude and lent out its hand in such times. The reason might be simple; Mumbai has 60% of its population in slums; People, for whom humanity and humility mean much more than wealth and status. People, for whom ego means nothing, love means everything.

Fittingly, at around the same time, the Congress high command (Sonia Gandhi) in a totally independent order asked all further encroachment demolition drives to be cancelled permanently. Obviously they played the vote bank card, but I was happy to see my city still remain Mumbai and not turn into a Shanghai. Both the cities have their own uniqueness which should not be fiddled with.

Quick Note:

1. This is also the same Mumbai which charges Rs.100 for a mineral water bottle for helping a victim when a bomb has just ripped apart 200 people nearby. Or where 200 ARMED policemen keep hiding outside CST railway station inside police vans because they were too afraid to face Ajmal Kasab and his accomplish one fine November night. Such is the idiosyncrasy of the City of dreams..