Does sound familiar, eh? Well, I’m no Aisha Banerjee and Sid is no friend of mine. But every new girl has a story; that is different in parts but similar on the whole. A new city – be it a metropolis, cosmopolis, conglomerate (...all those urban planning terms I picked up in grad school!) – provides sumptuous challenges to any single woman - battling new grounds, identities, and situations along with the fad words of the season - gender safety, isolation & inflation. In my case, moving out of a friend's place was a landmark decision and it was received with 2 hands and a splitting grin that I was more than happy to reciprocate. Not at any fault of hers, but the itch for anonymity led me to look outwards – be it a den, a kennel or a cage – but being ‘no strings attached’ & invisible does have its own serene charm. A working women's hostel - that's my new home for a longer duration possibly. It was the day of Ganesh Nimajjan here - and I left for the new place with possibly the only vacant auto on the road. I had the time to just dump my luggage in the lobby, introduce myself to my roommates and get walking to the office. I walked the stretch of Road No.3 & 2 on the seemingly ordinary day, soaking in the sun's warmth. In office, most of the time went about in telling my colleagues about the new place, about getting back & unpacking; the walk uphill (which BTW takes just 15 mins), the panoramic view of the Park Hyatt and so on...And just as we were about to wrap up - at about 5 PM, dark clouds came hurling towards our glass wall - on the 4th floor overlooking the city, it was a breathtaking sight - trust me! OK, it’s not the Eiffel tower & this is no Paris – yet being closer to the clouds is considered a heavenly experience! As expected, soon all hell broke loose - it began raining cows and elephants – the Indian way! And to add to all that chaos, there were hundreds of people on the roads with dhols and trumpets, carrying Ganeshas – on the final day of Ganesh Chaturthi. I was enjoying all of it from above, tapping my feet to familiar numbers and all that. 7 PM – and nothing had changed – probably worsened. The road had turned into an amalgam of people, cars, sound systems & generators, garlands & ganeshas. By 8, the power supply was down & I decided to make a move – by then the clouds had parted for dinner I suppose. So out I got, with my laptop bag clung on to me like a kangaroo’s joey. Onto the road and I realised that this was not going to be a cakewalk. The road sinuously lay in front of me like spoons filled with brown tonic. It struck me then that Banjara Hills was actually a couple of ‘vagabond mounds’ that got together to form a shopping quarter. Jumping over pools actually covering almost the entire width of the road, getting sprayed by ‘street-smart’ cars, wading thru’ pools of floral slush – I finally got to the auto stand. Well, hello! No autos and even the few that were there were being auctioned – to destinations that were the farthest, the geographically easiest, the costliest – and many such superlatives – that were being spat out in rapid Telugu. In return for the awesome entertainment that we humans generate in crises situations like these, the rain gods broke into a round of applause. Unable to take it any longer, I began to walk down the road, thro’ millions of potholes, brooks, waterfalls, man-holes, trash cans, sand heaps – and god knows all that gooey stuff that I must’ve to tread on in the dark. And in the occasional brightness of a passing car – I would chart my path for the next 50 meters I walked by – thinking of good, old days – when I would sit on the couch at home, watch the raindrops on the trees, drink tea & reading a book – wondering why anyone would hate the rains...? Cut to reality! By then I had reached the trough, and there was just water, water everywhere – no pavements, not a single solid to step on, and water was rising at an alarming pace, flowing in from the surrounding hills. So far, I was being an ant, following the person right in front of me. Pausing under trees, I was shivering literally thinking of the ‘miles’ I need to walk back before I could go to sleep. There, alone in an unknown city, alongside strangers, grappling for a firm ground – I began to question my karma. Silly as it may sound, I didn’t have many options in hand - either I get hit by a speeding car - walking bang on the centre of the road to escape a large puddle, or I fall into the man-hole and break a few bones maybe, or hold onto a cable and get electrocuted. Sarvam, Kandukondain^2 & Anniyan began playing back to back in my mind. How filmy can I get? Well, such situations occurred only in movies until that day. I shook it off almost quickly and began to concentrate on the wooden plank that would possibly get me across the next trench. Just then, about 100 m away, a guy just fell sidelong into it – That’s it! I had lost all hope by then. But the human spirit can make a man do wonderful things (especially when others are watching!) The guy began to laugh his lungs out - despite a wet laptop, bruised arm & having lost his spectacles. Soon joined his friends (I suppose!), followed by the rest of us. It lightened the doldrums around and I almost felt that the lights were back. But the ‘wet blanket’ that I usually am, quickly drifted to another problem on hand. I had never seen the new place in darkness (of course, no one can!) But I was beginning to feel that I had lost my way all of a sudden). Now all that I needed that night, was to get lost en route, get raped, get flown to a hospital in Secunderabad and die as the ‘unvanquished’. Never mind the thought, I spotted a familiar restaurant and found my way back. And this was just the beginning. Road No.3 - my current address - easy as it might sound, is contrastingly convoluted in terrain. I began a storey lower, climbed to the main road, went down it – and was knee deep in water. Weeds were sticking onto my legs – or at least I felt so. Finally managed to reach the road that ends with the hostel and lo! That was one sight to behold - cars parked on the road and water gushing around their sides in eddies. After that, was a rock pile, which was the only humane path to reach the next gate. I almost toppled over one and held onto a trimdek panel that slightly tore my hand. Then the open drain - thankfully overflowing with just organic waste - and there I was just 50 m away from going uphill to the hostel gate. Whoa! - Finally found the end of the tunnel. Light shone and hope shimmered. Little did I know that it was an approaching train instead! - An unmanned Honda Activa was uncontrollably closing in on me. Its stand had given in to the pressure of the water and just slid from above. I almost fell for it till a pair of celestial hands just lifted me across and held me onto a short stone slab away from it.
I was still alive, still breathing. I had almost lost all sensation in my motor organs when I saw that scooter. And there I was once again; Hands-check. Feet-check. Eyes & ears, check, check.
I was welcomed into the hostel – almost like a war hero. New silhouettes, handing me towels, hosing me down, taking my laptop bag away, giving me a seat. Never felt anything like this ever before. I officially hate Takeshi’s castle now! And reliving that entire one hour, stranded there in filthy water – I felt like wailing out loud like a baby, wanted to hug someone - but things aren’t quite that easy always – they just get better with time!
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