21 August 2009
Heavy Rains lash across the capital
It was a day when all the emotions and the heart wrenching feelings associated with the rains went out for a walk and we…never came back that day.
Delhi recorded 74 mm of rainfall in just 2 hours on Friday. And commuters like me were stranded in the city, clueless about how to reach home in the torrential downpour and the waterlogging, traffic jam, lack of transport, in short, the calamity that followed.
Here are some excerpts from the dampener of a day.
4.30pm: Howling is on full blast outside as strong winds lash on my office window and all of us queue near the window in disbelief and worry. Rumours travel in the department that Akshay has slipped and fallen while trying to run on the slippery road outside to return to the office. Meanwhile, in the congress headquarters, water seeps and literally pours from the ceiling, fans and from the AC vents also soaking the Sonia Gandhi photograph nailed on the wall.
5.30 pm: The rain recedes. But it’s a literal flood outside my office building. I set my mind clock to a late return back home. And I also leave the office a little before my schedule time.
5.45pm: Waiting for the bus, any bus in fact, Shuttling between both the sides of the road following the haywire diversion of buses from their usual routes due to a serpentine traffic jam near South Moti Bagh. I see my office colleagues leave one by one. And I envy the ones who are escorted by a car.
6.00pm: “Nahi saab. Dhaula Kuan ke wahan bahut jam hain”. A crisp 50 rupee note fails to lure the auto driver, thinking of petrol consumption and time-passenger efficiency ratio. Calamity. It seems diasater has struck. The sun peeps out after a dark afternoon. My mobile phone flies out of my hand, thanks to a push from a harrowed person in the bus stop. Nokia is a strong phone.
6.20pm: I start walking towards Outer ring road and after reaching there in 10 minutes I do get a bus to Dhaula Kuan. Thinking to compensate the disastrous ride which I foresaw, I called up my Dad and asked him to order a pizza for me.
6.45pm: the passenger standing on my left is carrying his dirty, wet and muddy pair of shoes in his hand and which is constantly brushing against my expensive formal trousers. Curses! Never ever I am going to wear formals to office during monsoon. I am not needing any support to stand. The passengers all around ma are quite supportive, physically. The bus is moving at a speed of 2 cms an hour. The only respite is the Salman Khan song blaring in the bus radio.
7:00 am: I reach Dhaula Kuan finally after what seemed like an endless ride. I would have been able to reach faster had I walked. An aerial view provided to me, while in the bus, atop a flyover made me witness an astounding sight. Below me were 3 or 4 huge flyover lanes, choc a bloc with car tops-a colourful sight but nevertheless threatening. And in front of me I could have an endless sight of cars honking away to glory.
7:15pm: Finally I board a chartered which was less crowded, although I did not get a place to sit. Again a Salman Khan movie, Judwaa, which was played on the Bus, accompanied me. I could not view the monitor though, due to the rows of heads in front of me, but the soundbox, poised near my sight was the only source of what I could follow from the film, assisted partially by my memory.
7:40pm: A dead duck! The bus has moved only around 3 to 5 inches on the last 30 minutes or so. I am crammed up again needing no support. My low back’s aching like mad. Dad calls me up and says they wont deliver pizza under a particular amount and no one else in my family eats pizzas. Mum says she has prepared Afghani chicken. Ahh at least something to look forward to.
8:00pm: The bus crosses the airport, where the roof shades had flown off, thanks to the gusts. And then it picks up speed and for the first time in hours, cool winds caress my face and I begin to feel a little comfortable.
8:30pm: In no time, I reach IFFCO chowk to my utter delight. Though the pain in the back is worsening. I tale a rick and head towards home after the end of a battling journey.
8:50 pm: Home at last!
I dedicate this account to those Calcutta dwellers, who constantly complain about the lack of proper maintenance in the city when it rains and also the poor traffic situation when it pours. Believe me, I have been also through that grime but Delhi is worse during the monsoon. The water level took hpurs to subside. Sewers overflowed. Traffic jams took everybody’s breath away. So the next time you complain. Go through this account before that.
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