"Rains wreak havoc in city" , "Milan Subway submerged" , "Mithi river overflows" , "Highest rainfall recorded in city's history....."Sounds familiar , doesn't it ?? That used to be the front page story of every newspaper since the historic 994 mm rainfall in Mumbai city on 26th July , 2005. The Milans and the Mithis of the city finally got their due attention.
The city witnessed unusually torrential rains lashing it left, right and centre since 2005. Yes we blamed the government and municipal authorities for their laissez-faire. Yes we wrote petitions to sue the authorities for their shoddy preparedness for the monsoons. Yes we got the Municipal Commissioner and Chief Minister to intervene and make Monsoon Management a priority. Yes we forced communal and disruptive political parties to raise issues of civic concern. So much for those rains. But it seems that wasn't enough.
They say nobody prays more devoutly for the rains than the poor farmers of our country. But if at all prayers have been answered, those were of the crooked lazy babus who feared for their jobs in case the rainfall caused a major infrastructural collapse.
We were already witness to one of the most scorching summers of this decade and if there was one reason why we patiently put up with it was the mere thought of the approaching monsoons that would bring a welcome relief. And lo behold ! look what a cruel joke Mother Nature has played with us. Those slight showers seem less as signs that indicate a normal monsoon but more so a reminder that this is all we will get , all that we deserve. Thats the cruel joke I am talking about.
For someone who remembers 26th July floods not for its devastation but for the sheer fun of walking 8 km from college to home totally drenched with friends for company, for seeing spirited young men helping the elderly & complete strangers trapped in difficult situations, for seeing a friend running to save a little kitten taking shelter under a kick-started auto-rickshaw caring less for the books and journals in his bag, for having hot pakodas and coffee after a hot-water bath ; memories that have nothing to do with the intellectual garbage like Disaster management , Brihan Mumbai Storm-water drainage system, Municipal negligence, self-aggrandizing govt. stats & figures on improvements and the lack of it etc.
All I ever want is to hear the thundering clouds in the coziness of my house and then seriously discussing with friends if college were to be closed the next day, we all could go for a movie instead. I still recollect my first heavy rainfall experience almost 10 yrs back when I was in the fourth grade and it was raining cats and dogs while I was already in school. The school authorities announced that school buses won't be able to ferry us back home due to water-logging and we were supposed to stay put till someone from our family came over to pick us up. These developments actually excited me. For some reason I was sure that parents and guardians would find it extremely difficult to find access and pick us up and would prefer letting the school authorities arrange for our one-night stay till the rains subside. I was pretty sure no one from my family would be able to turn up as it was only my mom , granny and grandpa who were present at home. My mom never ventured out much on her own and granny and grandpa were in their early-seventies. I certainly had no issues with that.
The mere thought of spending the remaining day (and night) enjoying with classmates in the security of our classroom and class teachers was enough to ward off any infantile fears that fourth graders are known for.
But that was not to be. Sooner than anyone expected, harried and anxious parents came along one by one to take my friends away from me unknowingly crushing my small little hopes of enjoying the day in a different way. Yes some offered to drop me home too but the teachers won't allow (neither would I). The desolate classroom acted as slow poison. I wished my dad was in the city. I still wasn't angry on my mom though. I understood her problem. Grandparents? Physically impossible!! I reconciled to the fact of staying with the remaining classmates with whom I never talked much. A boring hour or two passed and teachers kept calling names of students whose parents had come to pick them up. It was 5.30pm and I started feeling like an islander. At 6pm another name was called (as if I cared). But to my surprise , it was my name on which my teacher was straining her vocal chords. I sincerely wondered -- 'Who The Hell....?' ;)
Guess Who ???
---> My 73 year old grandpa
Not even in my wildest dreams did I expect him to come for me. To try and explain in words my feelings the moment I saw him would be sheer injustice on the innocence of a fourth grader. His presence felt so reassuring. From that day he was no longer my septuagenarian grand-father but my Superman. The dress wasn't exactly Superman-like but his guts were. It was only when he was walking me back home hand held firmly did I realize the enormity of the rainfall, the floods and the challenges he faced while coming to receive me. The flood water was waist-length for him but for me, at 3 feet 10 inches, it was imminent death due to drowning if not for his firm grip. His coolness about the entire journey made me fearless. I could even see other people trapped in the same situation admiring him for his nerve. My grandpa was a Rockstar. The rains gave me an opportunity to understand the meaning behind words like love, care, concern, guts, innocence, admiration and the futility behind the word Age. This Rockstar lived his last 10 years loving me to the fullest with minimum words and maximum doting actions.
And that is what these rains mean for me. That is why I so eagerly wait for them. That is why I can't tolerate news that says we will have poor rainfall this year. I can't even understand the basic logic behind the song 'Rains Rains Go Away , Come Again Another Day...'. Maybe it suits the land of the poet but not the land of Rockstars. Hence the liberty in conveniently changing it to 'Rains Rains Come Again , Go Away Another Day....!!'
The city witnessed unusually torrential rains lashing it left, right and centre since 2005. Yes we blamed the government and municipal authorities for their laissez-faire. Yes we wrote petitions to sue the authorities for their shoddy preparedness for the monsoons. Yes we got the Municipal Commissioner and Chief Minister to intervene and make Monsoon Management a priority. Yes we forced communal and disruptive political parties to raise issues of civic concern. So much for those rains. But it seems that wasn't enough.
They say nobody prays more devoutly for the rains than the poor farmers of our country. But if at all prayers have been answered, those were of the crooked lazy babus who feared for their jobs in case the rainfall caused a major infrastructural collapse.
We were already witness to one of the most scorching summers of this decade and if there was one reason why we patiently put up with it was the mere thought of the approaching monsoons that would bring a welcome relief. And lo behold ! look what a cruel joke Mother Nature has played with us. Those slight showers seem less as signs that indicate a normal monsoon but more so a reminder that this is all we will get , all that we deserve. Thats the cruel joke I am talking about.
For someone who remembers 26th July floods not for its devastation but for the sheer fun of walking 8 km from college to home totally drenched with friends for company, for seeing spirited young men helping the elderly & complete strangers trapped in difficult situations, for seeing a friend running to save a little kitten taking shelter under a kick-started auto-rickshaw caring less for the books and journals in his bag, for having hot pakodas and coffee after a hot-water bath ; memories that have nothing to do with the intellectual garbage like Disaster management , Brihan Mumbai Storm-water drainage system, Municipal negligence, self-aggrandizing govt. stats & figures on improvements and the lack of it etc.
All I ever want is to hear the thundering clouds in the coziness of my house and then seriously discussing with friends if college were to be closed the next day, we all could go for a movie instead. I still recollect my first heavy rainfall experience almost 10 yrs back when I was in the fourth grade and it was raining cats and dogs while I was already in school. The school authorities announced that school buses won't be able to ferry us back home due to water-logging and we were supposed to stay put till someone from our family came over to pick us up. These developments actually excited me. For some reason I was sure that parents and guardians would find it extremely difficult to find access and pick us up and would prefer letting the school authorities arrange for our one-night stay till the rains subside. I was pretty sure no one from my family would be able to turn up as it was only my mom , granny and grandpa who were present at home. My mom never ventured out much on her own and granny and grandpa were in their early-seventies. I certainly had no issues with that.
The mere thought of spending the remaining day (and night) enjoying with classmates in the security of our classroom and class teachers was enough to ward off any infantile fears that fourth graders are known for.
But that was not to be. Sooner than anyone expected, harried and anxious parents came along one by one to take my friends away from me unknowingly crushing my small little hopes of enjoying the day in a different way. Yes some offered to drop me home too but the teachers won't allow (neither would I). The desolate classroom acted as slow poison. I wished my dad was in the city. I still wasn't angry on my mom though. I understood her problem. Grandparents? Physically impossible!! I reconciled to the fact of staying with the remaining classmates with whom I never talked much. A boring hour or two passed and teachers kept calling names of students whose parents had come to pick them up. It was 5.30pm and I started feeling like an islander. At 6pm another name was called (as if I cared). But to my surprise , it was my name on which my teacher was straining her vocal chords. I sincerely wondered -- 'Who The Hell....?' ;)
Guess Who ???
---> My 73 year old grandpa
Not even in my wildest dreams did I expect him to come for me. To try and explain in words my feelings the moment I saw him would be sheer injustice on the innocence of a fourth grader. His presence felt so reassuring. From that day he was no longer my septuagenarian grand-father but my Superman. The dress wasn't exactly Superman-like but his guts were. It was only when he was walking me back home hand held firmly did I realize the enormity of the rainfall, the floods and the challenges he faced while coming to receive me. The flood water was waist-length for him but for me, at 3 feet 10 inches, it was imminent death due to drowning if not for his firm grip. His coolness about the entire journey made me fearless. I could even see other people trapped in the same situation admiring him for his nerve. My grandpa was a Rockstar. The rains gave me an opportunity to understand the meaning behind words like love, care, concern, guts, innocence, admiration and the futility behind the word Age. This Rockstar lived his last 10 years loving me to the fullest with minimum words and maximum doting actions.
And that is what these rains mean for me. That is why I so eagerly wait for them. That is why I can't tolerate news that says we will have poor rainfall this year. I can't even understand the basic logic behind the song 'Rains Rains Go Away , Come Again Another Day...'. Maybe it suits the land of the poet but not the land of Rockstars. Hence the liberty in conveniently changing it to 'Rains Rains Come Again , Go Away Another Day....!!'
My Grandpa wid my nephew
Just too good.Great expression of reverence we have for our elders but seldom realise how much.
ReplyDeleteRenu Gupta