It was a fine Sunday morning, sometime around
For a moment, I couldn’t decide which way to go; all the roads looked inviting. I took the road which heads to Vajeera naka; it is just a 20-minute walk from my house. Trees on both sides, the puddles, the sky a little cloudy, and the walk below the canopies... I was feeling wonderful. I had not walked even for 10 minutes and ‘Whoosh!’!!! It started pounding down. I took shelter under a big banyan tree. I waited there hoping that it would stop raining in a while but couldn’t see any signs. There is a Ganapti temple near Vajeera naka. I decided to go there.
Being morning time, many people had come to visit the temple. It had stopped raining by the time I reached near the temple. I was amused at this human behavior of the rain, its capriciousness, and suddenly my mind pullulated with the memories of 26/7, the day when entire Mumbai was thrown out of gear.
That memory makes me tremble and also brings a feeling of guilt. I am from a small village called Badlapur. Due to job reasons, I left Badlapur long back but my parents stay there. On 26/7 when rains paralyzed Mumbai , the situation was worse in my village. There is a dam near Badlapur, and because of incessant showers, the water level reached its danger level and the river overflowed. Water flooded the entire village. Most of the houses in Badlapur were one-storeyed at that time. Water had already reached the first floor. When I came to know about this, I was shuddered by the thought of my family, and to add to that no phones or mobiles were working. Sense of losing your dear ones is in itself life threatening. Several people in our village lost their lives in that deluge. Even after the rains had receded, people didn’t receive appropriate help for almost 2-3 days. There was no water to drink, no electricity for almost a week.
But I just knew my family would be safe as the rain was accompanying them the whole night. (It may sound weird but you still have the option of fantasizing when you are helpless). The guilt of not being with my dear ones when they were struggling with death will always remain at the back of my mind.
Is it true that a temple is the best place for confession? I am not sure. But being there while those memories sprang up was a bit comforting for sure.
It had stopped raining. I headed back home. The air smelled fresh, people were wading their way through water. It was a soothing walk indeed. When I got home, my granny bawled me out for doing such an insensible thing. I smiled. Doing illogical things is not new to me but feeling wonderful in spite of acting foolish definitely was ;-)
P.S.: I express my gratitude to the unknown person whose sketch I have referred to.
