Mumbai re-lived in capital city - almost!

Delhi, 9th September, 2011.

There is a common belief that bad things happen if one gets off on the wrong side of the bed! Well,it is irrelevant to me since I have been getting off on the same side of the bed for several decades - what being happily tied in wedlock and what not! Is it the right side? Is it the wrong side? Who cares? However, yesterday, for a fleeting moment, the thought did cross my mind that there may be something in that belief, after all!

The day dawned with copious amount of rainwater being precipitated from the heavens on to the hapless and unsuspecting people of Delhi. City rain, and its accompanying greyness, has always caste a pall of gloom on my mood. Yesterday was no exception! Added to this was the thought that I would have to make an early start(i.e. 07.30 hrs.), drive 13 kms in the rain and set foot on a squelchy, muddy car park of the Institute - thus spoiling both my Hush Puppies and the Institute's floor with equal facility! The gloom in my mood knew no bounds!

When trouble comes, it pours! This adage proved prophetic, for, no sooner was I informed on arrival at the Institute that there would be no class, the rain intensified and became a veritable cascade! A double whammy, if ever there was one! This was at a little after 8.30 am.

It was only by 9.30 or so that the deluge seemed to be easing off. By 10.00 the rainfall had come down to a mild shower. That is when I made my first mistake. Armed with an umbrella I set off for the car park. Straight away I sensed that things were much worse than it had appeared from the dry safety of the Institute's lounge. The "ground reality" ensured that I was immediately in shoe-deep water. The umbrella did manage to protect my half-bald top for a while, but did little else to help. In no time my shirt was drenched; my trousers were drenched and, in trying to get into the car, finally my head too got drenched! And it was in this state that, with a sense of dubious achievement at having made it to the car, I drove off.

I do not know if you have ever been to Nebh Sarai in outer Delhi, a part of the substantial expanse of rural habitat that Delhi has. There is a stretch of road 1.7 kms long which bridges the Badarpur-Mehrauli Road with the Institute. This road is a road by name only. Actually, 0.7 kms of it, towards the institute, have been concretised and broadened. The remaining 1km is a motorist's nightmare of the worst order. It is narrow. It is used by an amazing mix of transport vehicles from trucks, RTVs, cars(big and small), two-wheelers, push carts, rickshaws, bullock-carts, cycle-carts, etc. You name it - it plies there! The road also has no surface worth its name. Moreover, there are several even narrower roads which converge on this from both sides. Given the rustic habits of the drivers (whether of urban or rural pedigree!), coupled with the total absence of traffic lights or policemen, the area is a potpourri of the chaotic and the insane!

My second mistake was to drive off, as I did. Immediately, as though on cue, the rain started to intensify again. The concretised part of the road was not a problem. But the moment I hit the infamous stretch, I realised that I was in trouble. The traffic had piled up - and there was water everywhere. Now, this situation was not really new to me as I had faced such hurdles in previous years too! Although, things did not look encouraging, I had every hope of safely , though slowly, negotiating the stretch like in previous occasions.

As I inched forward, I noticed that some cars were turning around in search of other routes - of which I had not the faintest idea. The rain also gathered a little more momentum by now so that I had to keep the windows up. Inching forward on half-clutch I advanced about 50 yards in 15 minutes! It was a regular waterway out there in front of me! Where was the road? The water level was at the hub-cap level as evident from the other cars. Another 25 yards - and the snail-march came to a halt. And there I stood for 20 mins or so, unwilling to switch off the engine, cocooned in the car with totally frosted windows affording no view, except through the wind shield, which was kept partially clear by the metronomic whoosh- whoosh of the wipers. And then, suddenly, my worst fears were realised! Water started entering the car!

As I heard the dreaded lapping of the water, I was momentarily transported to another point of time when I had read horror stories of the plight of motorists caught in the catastrophic flooding of Mumbai in 2005. Believe it or not I broke out in a cold sweat. I was petrified! My brain stopped functioning. I could not decide as to the right course of action. I was alone in a water tank and slowly drowning. An there was no chance of anyone coming to my rescue. At least this was the vision that arose in my mind. What was I to do?

Very soon, my feet were completely submerged in the water up to the ankles. The chilling sensation must have jolted me out of my near-panic state, for I suddenly decided to turn and head back to the institute, if I could! Some divine force must have taken over my body because I do not know till now just how I managed to turn the car around without any visibility of the surrounds because of the fogged windows on all sides. Also with every shift of gear from reverse to forward I was expecting the car to stall. It took me all of 10 minutes but turn it I did. I was bathed in sweat but at least I had managed to face the other way. With gritted teeth, and still driving on low gear and half-clutch I headed off and managed to regain the institute's car park in ten minutes. The time was 11am. After an hour' traumatic struggle I had returned to base having travelled not even 1km! The rain continued to come down in sheets.

A helpful person from the institute arrived with a mug and managed to decant the accumulated water from inside the car. I was ever so thankful that, through sheer blundering, I had managed to take a sensible decision of returning to the institute. I was grateful to squelch back to the dry safe haven, viz. the institute's building. A visit to the washroom, a cup of steaming hot tea and some magazines did restore a semblance of order in my mind. The most important part was that I was able to recover my poise soon enough.

The rain petered out slowly. At noon, I was told by the staff that word had come that the 'infamous stretch' was at last cleared of waterlogging and traffic jam. So, after an hour's recuperation in the college lounge, it was time for me to leave once again.

I was a trifle apprehensive about the car's refusal to start, but it did. So, with almost a song in my heart, I set off again. But, it being that kind of a day, my joy was short-lived.

The 'infamous stretch' was safely negotiated only for me to discover that Delhi was in a gridlock of vehicles, covering practically the whole city. No route was free to travel in. All that I could do is change direction, reverse and seek strange looking by-lanes over and over again. I spent 45 minutes in Saket; 30 minutes on Press Enclave Road and half an hour inside Defence Colony itself before reaching home at 2.00pm. I descended from the car in a totally knackered state to discover Kumkum waiting for me at home. She had not been able to go to office in Hauz Khas which is 3 kms away!

Well so ended the saga of the deluge. Looking at the state I had been reduced to by my 3-hour battle with water-logging and traffic jams, I could not but feel blessed in contrast to many poor souls who had suffered much worse on that fateful 2005 day in Mumbai. This was Mumbai re-lived, but not quite!