A night of fear and love

A couple a years a ago rain meant joy for me, it meant walking home from college soaking in a drizzle with a 'bhutta' in hand, visiting beaches and waterfalls with friends and pals, playing football in water logged on the roads till the body soaked and turned white. Rains meant closed schools, breezy beaches, gusty promenade, beauty, romance and so much more to each mumbaikar. Mumbaites were so used to heavy to very heavy rains that even on a rainy day when people in any other city would just doze off in their warm houses, a typical mumbaite would trudge through the waters and reach work and back as if trying to beat the nature at its game.

One fine sunny day the GOD's decided to break this will, to test our strength, to storm our minds and cloud our memory with fear, death and destruction that rains bring in and unleashed the fury which is now known and 26/7. Within a couple of hours they poured as much water as they don't even in a year, these were no rains this was wrath and revenge of the nature for a fault mumbaikars still can't understand.

The city fought back hard, refusing to bow down, people walked kilometers on a dark and gloomy night, they had never imagined in their lives. With water logged to heights of 6 to 10 feet it was nothing short of outrageous courage to even walk on the roads, tens of hundreds died. Some drowned, some electrocuted, others asphyxiated... suddenly so many reasons for death surfaced, so many ways to the same end; death, and the same reason rains!!!

One of the longest night in the history of city slowly passed by, the waters receded, leaving behind an indelible scar on the minds which would go down only with the generation. The receding waters and the breaking light showed what should not be talked and discussed, silence is what I have maintained since the day whenever some one talked of the day. Many attempts at penning my experience on the day have been shredded to dust only after a year I could freeze down some thought to pen.

The memory of beautiful monsoons now seem too distant, too far fetched, what comes to mind is the hours spent soaking in the downpour, the long night spent in the bus, walking kilometers at the break of dawn on the road which seemed a junk yard of vehicles and so many more things.

One thing blossomed through out all this was love, in many forms. One could see couples hanging around, walking hand in hand, helping each other to tide over the trouble they would probably face once they reach home. Then there was the love for humanity, people who were lucky enough to be safely at home made sure to help others with all their means, providing them place to rest, distributing food to stranded commuters, giving lift when possible.

The rains exposed many faces of the city out of which one I haven't talked about as all know it as well and none are doing anything to save themselves from its apathy.