Rains.Monsoon

Well it finally rained. The monsoon rains, not the middling pre-monsoon showers in which you can almost dodge between the shafts of rain falling from the sky.

It was Mumbai rain at it's best. A symphony of water, wind and gray skies. It was rain that made rivulets in the drains of the streets, dragged stones for many a meter before laying them at rest at a culvert or a turn. It was rain that stopped or at least slowed the great Mumbai traffic on it's tracks.

I have a thing for Rains. I cannot just let them be, I have to go out and enjoy them. This day was no different. I had an umbrella in my hand and it was looking good and folded up and dry on this wet, wet Saturday.

So what is it about the Mumbai rains that calls me so? I wondered. Can it be because it lets me be free and mock the gentle public of this city, who crouch in inadequate shelters trying to escape getting wet or huddle under flimsy contraptions of canvas and steel to try and keep at least ten percent of their clothes dry. Or is it some deeper longing for water. After all, our bodies are supposed to be made up of almost 70% water, so can this need be osmotic? After the long dry summer, can the cells of my body need to replenish and the only way to do it would be by communing with these beautiful big drops falling from the sky. Hmm.. maybe. Never let thoughts stand in the way of a little happiness.

So, off I went from the office to home. Walking in this torrent. Smiling a superior smile at all the passengers of the cars stuck en-route to shelter and safety of their homes. I was already dripping wet and thoroughly enjoying it. I would hand over my umbrella to old ladies stuck by the sudden onset of monsoon fury and need to cross the road (must have collected at least three blessings that day).

Rains in Mumbai affect almost all things of this city. It causes great hardship to people traveling, it is not easy to travel around 30 km after you get dripping wet and it is actually tougher, if you have to do it with around another three thousand dripping wet men in a crowded suburban local. They stall cabs and this in turn causes traffic jams. Now, in such inclement weather, it is pretty difficult to find a traffic policeman. So, it falls on the shoulders of those who are most desperate to get home and don't mind getting a little wet.

Soon, some of these good Samaritans would climb out of their cars and start directing traffic and requesting other drivers to hold their tempers and lane changings in check. Soon, the jam would be cleared and all of them would get back in their cars and go home, deed for the day done and done well.

Seeing the good will of the public had a strange effect on me. I too felt like contributing to the good of public transporting in Mumbai. So, I decided to help each and every car that was stranded on my way home. Pretty soon, I came onto my first case. It was a black-yellow or the more melodious sounding kali-pili. I could hear frustrated horns from people behind him cos he was stranded in an oblique angle, blocking the whole street. The driver was some 16 yr old from one of the northern states almost frantically trying to start his car and flooding the carbs in the bargain. I got to him and told him:

" Dude, get out"
"Huh? Why"
" We need to get your car to the side"
"It is not starting sir"
"Dude you need to get out so we can push the damn thing"

After a little pushing and instructing the poor youngster in the art of maneuvering the car with one hand on the steering wheel and the other pushing, we finally got the car to the side of the street. After it was safely parked at the side, I told him to let it rest a while and it would start as soon as the distributor dried. Now, I did not really know if the distributor was the problem, but it felt good to offer advice that gave hope to the weary and unready.


Onwards I walked, feeling all good inside. By now I was all warmed up and had also gotten my technique down pat, rock the car a little and as soon as you get the forward momentum going, push a little harder and away you go. Another Kali-Pili and despatched to the sides in pretty much the same manner.

Then I came to a small Maruti suzuki. It was an old eight hundred with an even older parsi lady. She was trying to start the car but it had given up the ghost. So I asked her if she needed some help and she said if I could just start her car.

Now, this was a tricky operation, how to get her car started. By now I was almost home and the traffic was pretty much nonexistent. The narrow lane that connects our locality with the great wide world was already under a feet of water and was singularly uninviting to people with their minds in the right places.

So, instructed her very clearly. She would have to pop the clutch. This would involve putting the car in gear and depressing the clutch and when the car was moving, just let the clutch go. The car should start then. With some false tries, she finally managed to get it started and then drove away with a thank you dhigra.

Deeds done, I went home to a steaming cup of coffee and settled down in the room to watch the rains come and stall the cabs all over again.