It’s pleasant and overcast outdoors, the scorching sun has hidden behind the clouds, a Sunday and we step out, for a long drive to Gateway of India. Our family’s favourite bonding time. That hour or two when we give our phones a rest, when we converse, with social media taking a back seat.
So off we speed along the Eastern Freeway watching Mumbai’s skyline gradually turn dark grey. And then they fall. No drizzle, no warning. The raindrops pour forcefully on the car, the wiper moving hard to fend them off the windscreen. With the arrival of monsoons this year, my heart leaps with joy. Oh, how I have always been in love with the rainy season. Maybe because I was born in June, on a day when our city was being lashed by incessant downpours.
We have all been caught unawares after all, I see pedestrians rushing to nearby shops or hotels for cover. Some gladly open their arms and enjoy the soak. But have to say, not one person looks irritated or livid. I hear laughter, chatter, and as they say, the pitter-patter, as we drive along the Gateway of India promenade. Majestic she stands, with countless onlookers clicking selfies in the torrential rains, the waves lashing the walls at times.
It’s been about fifteen minutes and the showers refuse to subside. To my dismay, I realize, I am not all that happy anymore. The initial excitement seems to have morphed into some kind of gnawing unease.
I don’t know why, but I told my husband, “Come let’s go back. I am not feeling that good.”
“What?” The spouse and son echo.
“You, want to return? I thought we could circle the Marine Lines, drive across the Coastal Road, and the Sea link… We have time, and the sea would be beautiful. What’s wrong with you?”
I request once more, but they have their way. The ride is real fun, the rains slow down a little, the sea looks blissfully serene. But all along, I am longing to reach home, as soon as we could.
Kya Karoon, Maa Hu Na.
Before you wonder what this even means, let me clear it to you, I was once trapped in the July 26th 2005 Mumbai deluge, in waist-deep water. With phone networks down and nowhere to go. It was all thanks to God and the Humans of Mumbai, that I made it alive that day, I saw my death inches away.
And even now, two decades down the line, I can’t thank God enough, for keeping my son safely indoors on that fateful day. I had burst into tears when I finally arrived at my doorstep, it was such a relief watching my baby sleep peacefully in his cradle.
What if, he had been with me that day? What agony would all those mothers have suffered, getting stranded in deep waters, heavy rains pouring relentlessly, umbrellas being of no use, all means of transport shut and their child to protect?
Trust me, since the 26th of July happened to Mumbai, this has been my worst nightmare. That year, I would often wake up in the middle of the night in fear, the memory and my walk to shelter with the human chain remain deeply etched in my psyche.
It might sound silly, but motherhood has changed my entire perspective towards monsoons.
I remember the time when we would jump in puddles, wet our feet, and giggle when vehicles splashed on us. But honestly, I can’t dream of letting my son ever step on those dirty and murky puddles, let alone go frolicking. Water logging annoys and scares me no end, I picture garbage and waste floating around. I double my Dettol usage, and I stand miles away from the road.
But after a few minutes of incessant downpour, I begin to hear my heartbeats for real. Until my family returns home safely. And even when we are indoors, I don’t rush to prepare Chai and Pakoras. I find myself praying that my students reach back, no school bus is stuck, the street urchins are with their parents and their shanties don’t collapse.
And animals? I see my mother ache for all her strays, wondering if they are sheltered. It’s incredible how my parents brave the showers every morning to feed them all, toweling the drenched little ones dry with their handkerchiefs.
Once a Mother, always a Mother. Not only to your own but to every other. Motherhood brings in plenty of changes in a woman, this fear in me came gradually and is perhaps here to stay.
Blame it on the municipality and the ever-failing drainage system in big cities, but the good old Rainy Season got no chill anymore for me.
Sigh…
By Preethi Warrier
Preethi Warrier has completed her Masters in Electronics Engineering and is an Assistant Professor. She is one among the winners of the TOI Write India Campaign Season-1, for the famous author Anita Nair. She can be contacted at : warrier.preethi@yahoo.com
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