Thursday evening.
6.00 pm
Forewarned it might rain.
But went ahead to shop at the local Mall.
Picked up essentials. Paid up. Stepped Out.
Only to see a tight traffic jam that didn’t look like it was
going anywhere anytime soon. Plenty of noise pollution,
of course, as people couldn’t keep their hands off their horns.
So, thinking cleverly and being quite well-versed with the area
I took a side lane, only to emerge at the other end to a completely
packed road with a sea of vehicles waiting to pass through. Okay,
I now deserved the Darwin Award for putting myself in a position
where I could neither back off nor move forward, such as it was.
Dumb decision.
In the meantime, nature decided to do her bit (yeah, she’s female)
and sent a gentle drizzle, that seemed to get all excited at the prevailing
situation and thought – let me do my bit – and progressively got worse,
within seconds. Then the Gods went crazy, literally and did it pour!
It poured with a deafening sound that brooked no argument. As if anyone
was arguing! All we wanted to do was get home, get off my bike, get dry.
I tried my best to hum a song, but it came out all shivery, on account
of my unwise clothing – sleeveless cotton top and cotton salwar. I gave up,
as the constant sound of the horns wasn’t really the best orchestral
accompaniment to my vocals. Also, I was trying to balance my handbag,
bag of purchases in the front portion of my bike, which, I later came to
know, were rapidly trying to soak up the deluge of rainwater.
Eventually, the traffic did begin to move, and with as firm a grip as
possible on my handlebar, I crawled at 10kmph, wary of all the potholes
and whatnots on the road.I managed to cruise into my apartment complex
gates without further incident (unless you count the unmarked conical
speedbreakers on the road – which may or may not have
triggered off some bone rearrangement in my body).
I approached my garage, to see the pipes on either side spewing water
with massive force and under them – children enjoying the torrents.
Barely eight years old or thereabouts, and getting wet with abandon,
as children will. It is the moms that worry about the plethora of respiratory
blah-blahs later. But that’s another story.
It was impossible to unlock my garage, and anyway, I didn’t have
the heart to interrupt the enjoyment of these kids. The wiser and older
teenager component of our building was standing in the sidelines,
safe, dry and watching the showers. Showers? I mean torrents.
Well, so I just parked the bike outside the garage, picked up my
bags even as I exchanged some jolly ole banter with the kids.
They, naturally invited me to go stand with them under
the pipes. To which I responded, saying I just wanted to go
change my clothes get dry and come back. This obviously
made sense to them…
I got into the lift, with the nasty thought – what would I do
if there was a powercut now?. Anyway, I defied Murphy’s laws
and let myself in, dripping. After peeling off my clothes
and changing into something dry, I decided to rescue the
shopping. I must say, thank God for the inner foil packing of
the breakfast cereal, Horlicks, and various other things. (Think I’ll
tell you what I bought? NOT!) I laid everything out to dry. My
handbag was filled with water -and I managed to save everything –
I must congratulate myself on my habit of using pencils
to write. The writing doesn’t wash off like ink!
Eventually, it was dinner time – and a memorable afternoon/evening
was behind me. The crazy thing was – today of all days I hadn’t
protected all my stuff in plastic, as I usually do.
Who can say I lead a boring life? ! Lesson Learned.
Cheers!
Vidya
