As a person stranded in the Mumbai floods, I experienced human spirit that was taking on the Gods. Here is a chronicle of the same.
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Fools rush in where angels fear to tread. I guess that should sum up my experience of Tuesday, 26th July, 2005. But nonetheless, I am happy that the journey I made did not go waste.
I was below my office at Vile Parle, East at 3:00pm trying to catch a taxi to go and meet a client at Fort. Almost one hour of trying and still no vacant taxi was visible. What were visible though, were heavily falling rain, the slowly flooding streets, and a steadily increasing traffic jam on the Western Express Highway. Still, being new to Mumbai, I was unbothered – this is normal in rains in Mumbai, and would ease off.
Around 4:00 pm, my administration manager phoned me to inform me that he had just heard that the trains had been stopped. Time to act: I being the Mumbai branch head of my organization had the responsibility of all my employees, most importantly of the 30-odd female members of the staff. I returned to the office and told him to check with the railways whether what he had heard was true. And, I asked all the ladies to proceed home immediately – the strong rain was enough to tell me that this was no place for girls. Just then, there was a power blackout.
At 5:30 pm, having cleared out almost everybody, I decided to leave for home. By that time the phones had stopped functioning, and I had no news of how things were at home. I got my car out and drove for around 200 meters – when suddenly I hit almost 2 feet deep water. The car started to misbehave, and I somehow managed to reverse and come back to office. Just then my phone rang.
“Where are you?” Anshu, my wife, on the phone, asked in a near-panicked voice.
“I’m at the office trying to come home. But there is a lot of water-logging here; will take some time.”
“Don’t. The road outside our complex is flooded. And Shaurya’s (my 5-year old son’s) school phones are not responding. And the 2 o’clock bus hasn’t reached here yet. We’re very worried. Sujata’s (Anshu’s friend) 4-year old younger daughter, Ayushi, hasn’t reached yet. And Shaurya’s bus starts at 6:00. But since the first bus hasn’t even reached here, it won’t be able to go back and fetch the other children. And Shaurya & Anushri (Sujata’s elder daughter, and my son’s classmate) must still be at school.”
“Oh God! Really? Keep trying the school number. I’ll also try.”
“I will. But you go to the school. Else, the children will be very scared. Sujata’s husband is here trying to locate the younger one. You must go to school now, because you are mid-way, and only you can reach there.”
“Mid-way yes, but I’m still a good 6-7 kms. away from school (Podar’s CBSE at Santa Cruz, West). And there’s no cab on the road, and the roads are flooded. How do I go there?”
“Walk.”
“Walk? 6-7 kms.? In this rain and flood?”
“Yes, walk. I guess that’s the only way. You have to walk, Shailesh. There’s no other way – we’re scared; the kids will be even more scared. You have to reach the school somehow; anyhow.”
The one second of self-doubt changed into fierce determination in half-a-second. Walk, I must, and walk I will.
Just then one of my colleagues suggested that I go with him on his bike. I sat behind him. But fate had something else in mind – we’d just got out of my office complex, when the bike developed a flat tyre. I got off and started walking.
In Vile Parle, the water was just up to the knee, at the highest point reaching my thighs. The vehicles were still moving but there was no taxi or auto-rickshaw in sight. Those that were, were stalled.
Walking at a fairly brisk pace despite the water, I crossed the Hanuman Mandir Road, and moved across the railway track from over-bridge to the western side. Water suddenly started rising and reached my waist by the time I reached S.V. Road. I phoned home to tell that, having reached towards the western side, I had conquered half the battle. How wrong I was. From there on began an ordeal that I shall not forget to my dying day.
I joined thousands of people trudging through waist high water towards Santa Cruz. More people were coming from the other side, and they did not look very happy. Everybody kept checking with the people coming from the opposite direction about how high the water was on the other side. And nobody got an encouraging reply.
By the time I reached the Juhu flying club, the water was almost chest high. Now, I must admit that at 5 feet 3 inches, I am not a tall guy. But even those who were taller were beginning to look worried – the water had been consistently rising all this walk, and with the skies pouring down, there was no hope that the situation would improve.
Someplace, between the Juhu flying club and Podar School, the water touched my chin. “Why”, I thought, “was I taking such a huge risk? Another 2 inches and I could drown. It was so foolish going against nature in its extremely ferocious state. Would I survive? Would I reach to see my son? Or…”
I tried the phone; I had to call my wife and let her know that I may not be able to reach after all. The battery was dead. Not that it would have helped; others – whose phones were alive – were just unable to connect to anyone. So, I decided to put my panic to rest and continued to walk. Thankfully, the water level started reducing from there on, and after a short while was again at waist level – nothing to be worried about, after what one had just been through.
The sun was beginning to set, and my energy was also totally sapped. As it became completely dark (there was no electricity, and thousands of vehicles marooned on the roads also had no lights on), it was sheer willpower that kept me going on. Slowly, but surely, I was nearing my destination – my kid’s school.
Wading through almost chest-high water, I entered the school at 8:15pm. Right place, but the wrong school – I had reached the Podar ICSE wing. There must have been close to 2,000 students in the various Podar schools – so I was informed by the guard, who directed me to the CBSE school in pitch dark.
I reached the right school, and God knows what gave me so much energy suddenly – I raced to the 4th floor, where the 1st standard kids were being kept. Both my son and his friend were fine. Tears would have surely flown down my cheeks on seeing them, were it not for the presence of the class teacher bravely holding fort there. I could not thank her enough, when she asked me, “Are there any other kids from your complex who you can take with you; we’ve around a thousand kids here and most of them are very scared – their parents are unable to reach us.”
Before I could think, my son said, “Ritika. She’s in class 2. Let’s take her too.” Ritika is another one of my wife’s friends’ daughter and lives in the same complex as us.
“And what about Ayushi? Which class is your sister in?” I asked Anushri.
“Sr. K.G.”
I turned to the teacher with an inquisitive look.
“The Sr. K.G. students left at two o’clock.”
“But they hadn’t reached till seven, when I was able to last speak with my home.”
“I don’t know; the buses haven’t come back. But don’t worry; the drivers will definitely drop the kids home.”
Then she called a senior student (must be a 9th or 10th class student), and asked him to go and fetch Ritika.
He returned after a short while. “Uncle, Ritika was taken away around 6:00 pm by her mother’s friend.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, you can check with the teacher – she told me that.”
Not wanting to not be sure, I walked to her class. “Sir, Ritika left at 6:00”, informed her classteacher.
“Thanks.”
I tried to switch on my phone. There is a God after all; the phone sprung to life, and the call home also got connected.
I told my wife that the kids were safe. She heaved a sigh of relief and told me that Ayushi had also just landed up. “Are you bringing them home?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve waded through 4 feet high water, and I just can’t risk it with the kids.”
“I agree; stay at the school tonight.”
“Yes, but do send Anushri’s dad in the morning. I can’t fetch two children in such conditions – it is still raining heavily and I suspect things will only get worse.”
“Yes, he will…”. And the phone died. But I was alive, and the kids were safe, and my wife and her friends were relieved. That’s what mattered.
Then, what I saw is an example of discipline and dedication that as a parent will always be imbibed in my heart. The school, though extremely badly affected itself, refused to let its spirit die. All the teachers looked as fresh as ever – they were busy controlling the kids, most of who thought it was some kind of a picnic or slumber party to be staying with their friends in total darkness barring a lone candle in each classroom. The children were as energetic as ever, and despite being very tired themselves, the teachers looked cheerful and exemplarily active. The senior students were also pitching in taking care of children almost 10 years younger to them. And all of them were extremely fresh, courteous, and loving towards the young ones. That’s when I thought I could relax – my kid was in the right hands.
I spent the night with other parents in the physics laboratory. At 10:30 pm, out of nowhere, food packets (fresh hot veg. fried rice) arrived for all the kids and the parents! Imagine – it must have been over a thousand food packets delivered in a flood. Some people refuse to bow down to even the greatest of difficulties.
“How did the school manage this miracle?” I wondered. “And how very thoughtful and caring?” All the parents were very uneasy at this hospitality shown by the school in such circumstances – one just does not expect it – and refused to eat. But the senior kids would have none of it, and almost pampered us into eating our dinner. Surely, the school was giving the right values to these kids. As a parent, it gave me great joy and pride.
In the morning, Anushri’s dad arrived after having walked 12 long kilometers. And then we began our journey back home – on foot – with our 5-year old kids, who walked more than half the distance themselves knowing that their fathers were extremely tired. Surely, I had no idea that my kid had that kind of character and strength. My wife and I must have done some good in bringing him up. And his school would have made an equal contribution.
Finally, after hours, we reached home, much to the joy of everyone. It was a journey worth taking, after all; and the human spirit had conquered the nature’s fury. On a day when it rained almost 100 cms. in barely 3 hours (more than ever anywhere in India in a single day – even surpassing Cherrapunji, the wettest place, by a good 10 cms.), not just me; many, many others like me had defied the forces of nature to emerge victorious.
Angels beware; the fools are ready to take you on!
__________________________________________________________________
Fools rush in where angels fear to tread. I guess that should sum up my experience of Tuesday, 26th July, 2005. But nonetheless, I am happy that the journey I made did not go waste.
I was below my office at Vile Parle, East at 3:00pm trying to catch a taxi to go and meet a client at Fort. Almost one hour of trying and still no vacant taxi was visible. What were visible though, were heavily falling rain, the slowly flooding streets, and a steadily increasing traffic jam on the Western Express Highway. Still, being new to Mumbai, I was unbothered – this is normal in rains in Mumbai, and would ease off.
Around 4:00 pm, my administration manager phoned me to inform me that he had just heard that the trains had been stopped. Time to act: I being the Mumbai branch head of my organization had the responsibility of all my employees, most importantly of the 30-odd female members of the staff. I returned to the office and told him to check with the railways whether what he had heard was true. And, I asked all the ladies to proceed home immediately – the strong rain was enough to tell me that this was no place for girls. Just then, there was a power blackout.
At 5:30 pm, having cleared out almost everybody, I decided to leave for home. By that time the phones had stopped functioning, and I had no news of how things were at home. I got my car out and drove for around 200 meters – when suddenly I hit almost 2 feet deep water. The car started to misbehave, and I somehow managed to reverse and come back to office. Just then my phone rang.
“Where are you?” Anshu, my wife, on the phone, asked in a near-panicked voice.
“I’m at the office trying to come home. But there is a lot of water-logging here; will take some time.”
“Don’t. The road outside our complex is flooded. And Shaurya’s (my 5-year old son’s) school phones are not responding. And the 2 o’clock bus hasn’t reached here yet. We’re very worried. Sujata’s (Anshu’s friend) 4-year old younger daughter, Ayushi, hasn’t reached yet. And Shaurya’s bus starts at 6:00. But since the first bus hasn’t even reached here, it won’t be able to go back and fetch the other children. And Shaurya & Anushri (Sujata’s elder daughter, and my son’s classmate) must still be at school.”
“Oh God! Really? Keep trying the school number. I’ll also try.”
“I will. But you go to the school. Else, the children will be very scared. Sujata’s husband is here trying to locate the younger one. You must go to school now, because you are mid-way, and only you can reach there.”
“Mid-way yes, but I’m still a good 6-7 kms. away from school (Podar’s CBSE at Santa Cruz, West). And there’s no cab on the road, and the roads are flooded. How do I go there?”
“Walk.”
“Walk? 6-7 kms.? In this rain and flood?”
“Yes, walk. I guess that’s the only way. You have to walk, Shailesh. There’s no other way – we’re scared; the kids will be even more scared. You have to reach the school somehow; anyhow.”
The one second of self-doubt changed into fierce determination in half-a-second. Walk, I must, and walk I will.
Just then one of my colleagues suggested that I go with him on his bike. I sat behind him. But fate had something else in mind – we’d just got out of my office complex, when the bike developed a flat tyre. I got off and started walking.
In Vile Parle, the water was just up to the knee, at the highest point reaching my thighs. The vehicles were still moving but there was no taxi or auto-rickshaw in sight. Those that were, were stalled.
Walking at a fairly brisk pace despite the water, I crossed the Hanuman Mandir Road, and moved across the railway track from over-bridge to the western side. Water suddenly started rising and reached my waist by the time I reached S.V. Road. I phoned home to tell that, having reached towards the western side, I had conquered half the battle. How wrong I was. From there on began an ordeal that I shall not forget to my dying day.
I joined thousands of people trudging through waist high water towards Santa Cruz. More people were coming from the other side, and they did not look very happy. Everybody kept checking with the people coming from the opposite direction about how high the water was on the other side. And nobody got an encouraging reply.
By the time I reached the Juhu flying club, the water was almost chest high. Now, I must admit that at 5 feet 3 inches, I am not a tall guy. But even those who were taller were beginning to look worried – the water had been consistently rising all this walk, and with the skies pouring down, there was no hope that the situation would improve.
Someplace, between the Juhu flying club and Podar School, the water touched my chin. “Why”, I thought, “was I taking such a huge risk? Another 2 inches and I could drown. It was so foolish going against nature in its extremely ferocious state. Would I survive? Would I reach to see my son? Or…”
I tried the phone; I had to call my wife and let her know that I may not be able to reach after all. The battery was dead. Not that it would have helped; others – whose phones were alive – were just unable to connect to anyone. So, I decided to put my panic to rest and continued to walk. Thankfully, the water level started reducing from there on, and after a short while was again at waist level – nothing to be worried about, after what one had just been through.
The sun was beginning to set, and my energy was also totally sapped. As it became completely dark (there was no electricity, and thousands of vehicles marooned on the roads also had no lights on), it was sheer willpower that kept me going on. Slowly, but surely, I was nearing my destination – my kid’s school.
Wading through almost chest-high water, I entered the school at 8:15pm. Right place, but the wrong school – I had reached the Podar ICSE wing. There must have been close to 2,000 students in the various Podar schools – so I was informed by the guard, who directed me to the CBSE school in pitch dark.
I reached the right school, and God knows what gave me so much energy suddenly – I raced to the 4th floor, where the 1st standard kids were being kept. Both my son and his friend were fine. Tears would have surely flown down my cheeks on seeing them, were it not for the presence of the class teacher bravely holding fort there. I could not thank her enough, when she asked me, “Are there any other kids from your complex who you can take with you; we’ve around a thousand kids here and most of them are very scared – their parents are unable to reach us.”
Before I could think, my son said, “Ritika. She’s in class 2. Let’s take her too.” Ritika is another one of my wife’s friends’ daughter and lives in the same complex as us.
“And what about Ayushi? Which class is your sister in?” I asked Anushri.
“Sr. K.G.”
I turned to the teacher with an inquisitive look.
“The Sr. K.G. students left at two o’clock.”
“But they hadn’t reached till seven, when I was able to last speak with my home.”
“I don’t know; the buses haven’t come back. But don’t worry; the drivers will definitely drop the kids home.”
Then she called a senior student (must be a 9th or 10th class student), and asked him to go and fetch Ritika.
He returned after a short while. “Uncle, Ritika was taken away around 6:00 pm by her mother’s friend.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, you can check with the teacher – she told me that.”
Not wanting to not be sure, I walked to her class. “Sir, Ritika left at 6:00”, informed her classteacher.
“Thanks.”
I tried to switch on my phone. There is a God after all; the phone sprung to life, and the call home also got connected.
I told my wife that the kids were safe. She heaved a sigh of relief and told me that Ayushi had also just landed up. “Are you bringing them home?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve waded through 4 feet high water, and I just can’t risk it with the kids.”
“I agree; stay at the school tonight.”
“Yes, but do send Anushri’s dad in the morning. I can’t fetch two children in such conditions – it is still raining heavily and I suspect things will only get worse.”
“Yes, he will…”. And the phone died. But I was alive, and the kids were safe, and my wife and her friends were relieved. That’s what mattered.
Then, what I saw is an example of discipline and dedication that as a parent will always be imbibed in my heart. The school, though extremely badly affected itself, refused to let its spirit die. All the teachers looked as fresh as ever – they were busy controlling the kids, most of who thought it was some kind of a picnic or slumber party to be staying with their friends in total darkness barring a lone candle in each classroom. The children were as energetic as ever, and despite being very tired themselves, the teachers looked cheerful and exemplarily active. The senior students were also pitching in taking care of children almost 10 years younger to them. And all of them were extremely fresh, courteous, and loving towards the young ones. That’s when I thought I could relax – my kid was in the right hands.
I spent the night with other parents in the physics laboratory. At 10:30 pm, out of nowhere, food packets (fresh hot veg. fried rice) arrived for all the kids and the parents! Imagine – it must have been over a thousand food packets delivered in a flood. Some people refuse to bow down to even the greatest of difficulties.
“How did the school manage this miracle?” I wondered. “And how very thoughtful and caring?” All the parents were very uneasy at this hospitality shown by the school in such circumstances – one just does not expect it – and refused to eat. But the senior kids would have none of it, and almost pampered us into eating our dinner. Surely, the school was giving the right values to these kids. As a parent, it gave me great joy and pride.
In the morning, Anushri’s dad arrived after having walked 12 long kilometers. And then we began our journey back home – on foot – with our 5-year old kids, who walked more than half the distance themselves knowing that their fathers were extremely tired. Surely, I had no idea that my kid had that kind of character and strength. My wife and I must have done some good in bringing him up. And his school would have made an equal contribution.
Finally, after hours, we reached home, much to the joy of everyone. It was a journey worth taking, after all; and the human spirit had conquered the nature’s fury. On a day when it rained almost 100 cms. in barely 3 hours (more than ever anywhere in India in a single day – even surpassing Cherrapunji, the wettest place, by a good 10 cms.), not just me; many, many others like me had defied the forces of nature to emerge victorious.
Angels beware; the fools are ready to take you on!
