Its That Sinking Feeling Again.

The last 48 hours has seen torrential rainfall in Kolkata. And among millions, yours truly has also been an unsuspecting victim of it. I can attest to the fact that I, in my twenty years in the city, have never seen such unrelenting ire of the rain-Gods being unleashed with such grievous malice. The major streets are all flooded and the lakhs of people residing in low-lying areas are under inescapable house-arrest. Stray commuters forced to report to their workplaces are either braving knee-deep water to wade and waddle to their nearest islands in the name of bus-stops or are getting themselves stranded being ill-informed of the ‘road-ahead’. Everyday there are half-a-dozen reports of deaths due to electrocution or collapsing of mud-walls. I shudder at the thought of life in the villages now that city-dwellers of this major Metropolis are busy hurrying to the nearest patch of highland.

Now let me narrate my eventful tryst with this Fearful-Phenomenon last Tuesday.
Lured to the connoisseur’s paradise (called Park Street in this city) to be treated by my oldest and dearest buddy I reached my destination in a state of zombie, disregarding the knee-deep water in Central-Kolkata streets (traditionally a safe place during monsoons. I found it flooded too, to my surprise. So you can imagine the extent of the Floods.). With a sumptuous lunch safely tucked within our stomachs we blew good-bye kisses in the air and said Adieu. Now, I had to go to some place infamous for its water-logging capacities to the south. I had to pay double the rickshaw fare both ways as the rickshaw-puller paddled through wheel-deep water at a place where the last semblance of demarcation between land and sea was lost due to the downpour. When I was on my return-trip the skies opened again and to no one’s respite there was more of water and less of transportation. Taking temporary shelter under the roof of an already crowded sweet-shop I could see the steady rise in water-level in the clogged streets and the panicky commuters struggling to latch onto the next auto-rickshaw. Even the major-roads were under water and where I unboarded from the auto, the very sight gave me a shock-of-a-lifetime. There was waist-high water and all forms of transport had shut down. I was left with no option but to join hundreds of others in their wading-expedition. After a tortuous, filth-filled murk-waddle and after seeing ten-odd rickshaw-pullers turn down my route owing to bad-road, I finally managed to get hold of one who was willing. And God be thanked for that. He declared it would cost me thirty rupees due to inclement conditions which was understandable and going by the extortion-spree of their trade in this weather was also quite a reasonable bargain. I was overjoyed for I had estimated I would be set back by something around seventy rupees and this was a winner coming my way. I quickly climbed onto my rescue-chariot and the man (my savior of sorts) paddled-struggled-trundled-waddled-walked-paddled me to my home. I was immensely grateful to him and continue to be so. And this post of mine is only but a fleeting tribute to him. I gleefully handed him forty rupees and he was quite happy. A lazy smile lit his face which so often conveys both gratitude and happiness in people who toil their heart out to make a living. I duck-walked the rest of the road to the warm comfort of my home. And as I write this post, looking out through my window, it is still raining. Sometimes coming down in bucketfuls, sometimes in a light drizzle, sometimes in a reckless deluge. It’s almost like a marathon out here. Cold, calculated, measured and most dreadfully assured and inevitable.

God help us Kolkatans if the skies decide to play a Budhia with us.

Let there be light.
And yes.....some clear skies too.