Tuesday, 26th July, 2005.
I woke up late compared to bygone two days for which I attended college. Still I managed to recuperate and was on the bus-stop right on time. As usual prime queue for our, “Exotic palace on wheels: 44” was as long as a 16 wheeler hauler and the second line up was just showing its glimpse. Hence we waited for our honey: 44 by queuing in ensuing line up. The atmosphere was murky as usual and the waiting moments were spent as usual discoursing with friends and sharing perception on academics, politics, economics, media and then some bland self made philosophy. At last our solitary carter, from Dombivli to Nerul arrived after not so long wait of an hour.
Everyone had a seat and just after taking up the piece of paper that makes one legal traveler i.e. ticket, I instantly went into hibernation period. The bus was just averting the road craters, providing the unusual fun of Essel World. The driver today was Michael Sakharam, which we named after F1 driver Schumacher, as he was almost analogous to him at least in driving. The boisterous rumble of our tarnished NMMT bus engine ruined my piece of peace and after a moment there was heart-break. The tire deflated and we had to end our journey at Turbhe naka. From here we got into another bus which was totally jam pack, but it didn’t fluster us as firstly we are adapted to this and secondly journey was a short one.
After reaching college almost an hour late in spite of starting as usual made me happy, as there was certainly no need of attending any sermon as that day we had a campus interview for which I was not eligible. Now do you get enigma of my ecstasy? The whole day I spent in library reading good books i.e. not relating to académico. I was reading the “Da Vinci Code” by Dan Brown which has hit the Indian readers only after the tidings that, Tom Hanks is acting in the film which is based on this novel. After reading the whole día, we secured permission for chucking practical in order to collect identity card from BARC for project. We left college happily ditching practical, utterly unaware of cataclysm ahead.
It was raining heavily outside and there was complete chaos about trains being out of order. We never paid any attention to that as all we were focusing right now was to reach BARC and collect the damn ID and reach home after eating wada pav at Vashi. We never knew that we might be meeting a catastrophe ahead. The bus 506 left us in pretty flooded road through which we maneuvered our way to BARC main gate. Gate was awfully under rain assault as it was surrounded by ocher water. My thongs strap lost their touch and I had to reach some evacuated area to put them back in place. Por suerte! We got a rick and reached the security atrium of BARC. There the security guard with concern advised not to go inside and updated “Maine aisa barish apne pandhra sal ke naukre mein kabhi nahi dekha”. After listening to this only alternative left was tracing back our footsteps. Main gate was at about a walk of 15 min and walking in such a cloud outburst was going to be an eccentric experience. On the way we requested for lift but the BARC buses callously turned it down even in our susceptible condition. I used profanities for them i.e. the common F-letter word with some nouns ancillary to it. After coming to the half way mark I was pleased to see that the cold-blooded buses came to halt due to unwarranted water on the road. I imagined myself in front of them and showing the apt finger they deserve, but did it from a distance.
Ô Mon dieu! The water level at the main gate was above waist height and the force of water was arcane. Even the mightiest vehicles were just dragged side ways. I was merely petrified by the scene. Here people were taking each others support and managing themselves to find their way out. I saw a female around 25 utterly traumatized and started crying. She was hardly moving. Taking into account her disgraceful condition some of her friends and relatives just carried her holding her in their arms. We fought our way back to the highway by walking over the divider which helped in reducing the water level irrefutably. We had a long way to go still, so we kept walking and reached Mankhurd station wrestling with deluge. Psychosomatic fatigue gripped us soon as no rickshaw was willing to go to Vashi and no one was gesturing compassion for a lift. But ¡buena suerte! We got a bus and we reached Vashi station in no time.
The first thing we did here was had a stomach-full of food as no mêlée can be won by an army with an empty appetite. Here I came to know that I had only twenty bucks remaining and if somehow I get departed from my friend then I would be completely doomed. I explained my condition to my friends and then first thing everyone did was that to check hard cash we had to subsidize our remaining voyage. Chotte Sarkar had enough cash to act as guarantor and Sarkar too had some currency. Once the currency check was over we found ourselves at tail of queue which was jaggedly 150 foot long. Gracias a Dios! An empty Thane bus surfaced and with ease we scuttled into it. At each stop bus was just wolfing down people and the number of people inside was multiplying at such a higher rate that it even exceeded its normal 19 standees in a flash. Normally it takes about 45 min to reach Thane from Vashi but as railway route was disrupted and road was the only means for transport there was total gridlock. Nevertheless our driver assiduously and perspicaciously steered us to Thane in almost 3 hours. All the time I was either sleeping even when I was standing or having a tête-à-tête with my friends. And when I was not speaking I was doing callisthenic’s to keep my body in balance which is now endemic in traveling around Mumbai and its suburbs.
Reaching Thane was identical to achieving a mountain peak and gained an upper hand in our “Mission Dombivli”. We were just scuttling through every phone booth to call at home to update them that we have reached Thane and will move cielo y tierra to reach Dombivli. ¡Dios mío! We reached Thane and got a local train for Kalyan. I thought boarding a train for Dombivli was the ultimate victory. The battle was not over yet. I wished goodbye to my friends and was now on my own after borrowing some currency from Chotte Sarkar to reach my realm. I was near zenith when no rickshaw was willing to come to my house. I have just shifted my house few weeks ago and now it was far away from station. In spite being blackout and the distance, I wasn’t scared of walking. All the way while walking I was just cursing the rickshaw-drivers for not coming to my neighborhood. When I was halfway through for my house I could find my one third part of body inside water and slowly I could feel the level increasing. Due to complete blackout in Dombivli I could not see where I was walking and was at high risk of finding myself in jeopardy. The simplest reason for my fear was that I was near a huge cesspool which was overflowing, secondly I could find a ditch which would increase the water level in a flash and the most important was that I didn’t knew swimming. But there were some people going in that directions and some enthusiastic social workers had done nice piece of work by providing support and guidelines even at this time. When I reached a temple near my house my mother was waiting for me there and I could sense the concern through her voice as I was unable to see her concerned face due to blackout. At home mom updated me that my father was trapped in CST but safe and my elder bro was sound at my cousins house in Bhandup. Instantly after my arrival she informed few concerned relatives back in my countryside. Now in the dim lights oil lamps I could see her reprieved face. I was out of a crisis but still many people I suppose still trapped in trains, buses, offices, schools, colleges and even on some odd place other than their home sweet home, as everyone is not lucky.
