An Indian Christmas Carol

Mrs. Patel hated the monsoon. Her bones ached, for one, and the clothes never dried. And in Mumbai, once it started, it never stopped raining! She stood on the balcony looking down from her second story flat as she snapped out the wet clothes before pinning them irritably on the clothesline. The roads were wet, and the autos were followed by a light curving spray as they sped past the building. She shook her head and picked up the next garment.

Mr. Patel switched on the TV. Ahhh. He settled down in his easy chair, gingerly holding the steel glass holding his second coffee of the day. Retired life is good, he thought to himself. No having to get up at 5 AM and rushing through the morning. No more local trains. He unfurled the newspaper with his left hand. A thought occurred.

“Rashmi”, he called out.

“Jeee?” came the response from the balcony. “What is it? I am hanging out the clothes.”

“Where is Naresh today?” asked Mr. Patel.

“He has gone to Kurla to meet some customers,” replied Mrs. Patel, “he said he would be back early today.”

“Good,” said Mr. Patel, “I need to sit with him in regard to a couple of offers we have received. One of them is from Ahmedabad, and the family seems very nice. The girl’s name is Mrinalini, you remember?”

“Yes, I do,” she called back, “God’s grace, the wedding should be fixed soon. He is already twenty six. Only after he gets married can we start looking for Preeti…”

“Don’t worry, ma”, said Mr. Patel, “all will be well. When has He ever forsaken us?”

The day grew grayer. The rain, previously mild and summery, became more insistent. Mr. Patel increased the volume a couple of notches as the steady thrumming of the rain was quite loud now. He looked over his shoulder incuriously. All he could see through the dingy windows was a sheet of water. He turned back to his newspaper and TV programme.

***

Naresh Patel stopped his car on LBS Marg. Wow, I am so lucky to have got a parking spot here at this time of the day. He picked up his laptop and opened the door. The rain slammed into him. He shut the door quickly.

“Man, it’s pouring today,” he said to himself. “Where in hell is the umbrella?”

He gathered his fold-up umbrella and opening the car door gingerly, unfurled it. Then, he stepped out, pulled his lap top and locked the door. By the time he reached the entrance of KVR Service Station, he was sopping wet. The drains were unable to cope, he saw, as he waded through ankle deep water.

“Come in, sir”, said Mr. Raghunath heartily, “come in, come in. Oh, you are all wet. Can I get you a towel? A fresh shirt?”

Naresh made polite protestations, even though both the towel and a fresh shirt would have suited him just fine. Soon, he as drinking a cup of hot and very welcome tea as they went through the loan repayment schedule for the 3 bedroom flat Mr. Raghunath was buying in Ghatkopar.

The rain gradually increased its tempo and its volume. Much like the frog in a pot of cold water gradually being brought to boil, not many noticed.

***

Mr. Patel took some saunf from the container and started chewing it contentedly. The dal was perfect today. Time for a nap, he said to himself, mentally stretching. He stood up and went to the balcony. It was almost 2 PM. Oh, I can’t see anything outside, he thought. The rain is coming on heavily. He looked down. He could barely see past the first floor, but it was clear that the road was not to be seen. All there was was a dimpled sheet of water, thrashing under the onslaught of water pouring down from the skies.

I pity anybody out there, he thought. He turned back inside, yawning.

Mrs. Patel was clearing away the dishes, when the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hello, mummy? Preeti here. College is shut down today. I’ll be coming home soon.”

“Why? What happened? Any trouble?” asked Mrs. Patel.

“No, mummy, no trouble. The rain is so heavy that the Principal thought it is best we leave before the trains and buses stop.”

“Yes, okay, come quickly. Take an auto, sweetie. Don’t be late.”

“Bye, mum!”

Mrs. Patel went to the bedroom. Mr. Patel was just putting away the newspaper and taking off his glasses. She told him about Preeti’s call.

“Yes, that is a good decision,” he said, “I am sure the trains will shut down. Let me put on the TV and see what they are saying,” he said, getting up from the bed. “Do we have enough milk?”

***

At 2.30 PM, the heavens opened, and submerged Mumbai.

***

“Ji, please come here, quickly!” Mrs. Patel’s voice was panicked. “Quickly!”

“What happened?” said Mr. Patel, as he rose from his chair and walked towards the balcony. “What is it?”

As he stepped into the balcony and looked down, his heart almost stopped. The sheet of water that had lapped against the compound wall an hour ago now covered it. There was an auto rickshaw just outside the compound, and all they could see was the rexine roof. A little ahead, a BEST bus stood stranded, its lights glowing dimly. The bus was full of people, and even had a few on the roof.

“My God!” the words escaped him involuntarily. “What in heaven is this?”

His wife looked at him in agony. “What about Preeti?” she asked, her lips trembling. “And where is Naresh?”

“Let me call them, ma”, said Mr. Patel, “Don’t worry, both of them have mobile phones. I will speak to them right away.”

A few minutes later, he replaced the receiver on the cradle, his shoulders slumped. “No network”, he said, “that is all the message I am getting, no network.”

Mrs. Patel’s face grew tight and drawn. Her eyes filled. “Where could Preeti be? She was to come in an auto? How will autos move like this? What should we do?”

Mr. Patel was already moving to his room. “I shall change up and go down and see,” he said, his face grim.

“No! How can you go down? Are you going to swim at this age? No, please don’t”, she wailed.

“Hush, ma”, he said, tenderly, “I have to go down and look. We cannot just sit here and worry. Naresh has a car and can look after himself, but Preeti…”

He quickly threw on a pair of pants and a shirt, put on his sandals, picked up his umbrella, recognizing the futility as he did so, and opened the door.

Preeti stood there, soaked from head to foot, shivering.

“Preeti!!” he stepped forward and embraced her, “thank God! I was just going to look for you!”

Mrs. Patel raced to the door. “Oh Preeti, Preeti. Thank God you are safe! Come in beta, don’t stand there. Oh God, thank you. Come, come.”

Preeti smiled. “What an adventure, mummy! The water came upto here,” she said gesturing at her shoulders. “I thought I might have to climb up on the bus as others are doing. Have you seen such rain? It’s incredible!”

“Adventure, shmadventure!” said her mother, crossly. “You don’t know how worried…”

The lights went out. The TV news anchor vanished to a point. The gloomy room became dark.

“What? What..”

“The power has gone off,” said Mr. Patel with the authority of an engineer, albeit retired. “No wonder, with five feet of water on the streets. Come, let us light some candles and get you dried off.”

“Papa, I am fine. But there are children and old people out there, in the bus and sitting in cars. Shouldn’t we do something…”

“Sweetie, go dry yourself off, I am going down to see what we can do. I’ll be back in a moment.”

“No!” said Mrs. Patel again. “Don’t go out there! It’s dangerous!”

“Hush, I’ll be back soon.” And Mr. Patel slipped out of the door.

***

Naresh sat in his car. The road was jammed. The water on the street was lapping just below his window. Inside the car, he was already upto his knees. Multitudes of people were walking in both directions, heads bowed against the rain, resignation and determination showing in equal parts in their steady tread.

“Shit, this is going nowhere!” he said irritatedly to himself. “I will have to get out and walk.”

He pushed the door open against the water pressure, and stoically withstood the gush of brown oily water into his 3-month old car. “Oh crap!”. He looked at his mobile. Emergency calls only, it said. Ha! He took his laptop and mobile phone and got off into the waist high water. Shutting his door, he locked the car, and looked around. It was dark already, and the rain seemed as if it was never going to cease.

He turned around and carefully started wading through the water.

***

It was now close to midnight. The Patel’s flat was full. There were wet people everywhere. Older people sat on Mrs. Patel’s new upholstery drinking hot tea. Children sat on cushions against the walls. Others stood around, not moving much, especially as there was no place to move. In the bedroom, a doctor from the third floor was examining an elderly man whose breathing was unhealthily arrhythmic. More people sat around in the bedrooms and stood in the balcony. Mrs. Patel, Preeti and two other women were serving water, tea and biscuits to everyone. The house was dark and hot, with only a couple of candles feebly pushing at the gloom.

The door opened again, and Mr. Patel came in, sopping wet, leading a young man and two children.

“Please find some place and make yourself comfortable”, he said, “Preeti, can you please give these people a towel?”

“Yes, papa,” came her harried reply.

Three of the children sitting against the far wall gathered together to make some place for the dripping new guests.

“Thank you, sir” said the young man, softly “thank you so much. I did not know what to do when the water came above the car windows. I was so scared for the children…” His voice broke.

Mr. Patel smiled at him, wearily. He was tired to the bone. “Don’t worry, son. All is well now.” He turned to Mrs. Patel has she walked past with a tray. “Any news from Naresh, ma?

“No,” she said, “nothing yet.” Her brow was furrowed with worry and exhaustion.

“Well, I am going down again,” he said. “Ram and Manoj are downstairs, seeing if they can spot anybody else. If you hear anything…”

***
Naresh had taken a wrong turn. He was sure of it. The road was narrow and completely dark. The steady stream of people had dwindled to nothing. The water was now upto his chest. His bag and laptop were completely wet, but he could not let go of the bag, how much ever he wanted to. He looked around and behind him. There was no glimmer of light and no people anywhere. He shrugged and continued walking. The water level rose to his chest.

***
The day dawned sluggishly. Mrs. Patel sat up on the floor in the kitchen where she had been lying down. Five other women were sleeping there. She stood carefully, her body aching as it had never done before. She looked out into the living room. All she could see was a sea of bodies, sitting, lying, reclining. There, in the far corner, Mr. Patel stood, looking out of the window, watching, waiting. Her heart sank. Naresh…

***

Naresh’s heart jumped when he saw the hand. It was startlingly white and was scrabbling against the rear wind screen of the SUV, that was almost completely submerged. He stepped forward closer to the car. He could make out some movement inside.

“My God, there are children inside!”

He tried the doors. The handles moved, but the doors remained firmly locked. He finally dropped the lap top. What am I going to say to my boss, he wondered briefly. He took a deep breath and dropped to his knees in the water. His hands felt around, and found a largish rock. He stood up and took a breath, and then brought the rock down on the rear door window with all his might. Again, and again. The glass starred and cracked. He pushed it aside, and reached inside. Slowly, very slowly, he pulled at a hand, and a girl emerged. Her eyes stared whitely at him. He pulled her out and placed her on the roof of the car. She clung on to his hand.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, you are fine now,” he said. “who else is there in the car?”

She did not speak.

He leaned in through the window. He could dimly see two more forms. He reached in and pulled and a young boy came out, coughing and sputtering. Naresh held him close for a moment, till the boy regained his breath, and then placed him next to the girl. She reached out and clung to the boy.

Naresh pushed into the car again. This was a bigger person. His hand brushed against a breast. Oh, man. He groped and found an arm and pulled. It was not possible to move her. He gathered his strength and reached in again, and pulled. The form slowly moved and slid down the seat. Naresh pulled at the door, unlocked it and opened it. He stepped in and got his arms under both her arms and pulled, as hard as he could. He couldn’t budge her. He pushed her again, till she was upright. Her eyes were open, unseeing.

“Oh, my God!” he said, his heart racing in fear and horror. He looked up at the children sitting on the roof of the car. Their eyes bored into him in the lightening gloom. He ducked into the car again. He knelt on the seat and shook the lady. He pushed against her chest, and beat on her back. Her head nodded and fell forward, limply.

He stepped out of the car. He shut the door. Mutely, he lifted one child in each arm, and started walking again. The water came up to his chin now.

***

It was noon of the twenty seventh. The rain had abated, but far from stopped. The Patel’s house was emptier now, with less than twenty people in the living room. Husbands, sons and parents had been contacted, and had come, some of them breaking down in relief and gratitude on seeing their loved ones safe. A few children continued to sleep on the settees and in the bedrooms, still awaiting their parents. Mrs. Patel sat near the kitchen against the wall, weeping steadily. There was still no news from Naresh. Mr. Patel continued his forays outside, determined to keep doing something, rather than lapse into despair. He has always looked after us, he said to himself, and He will do so now, too…

***

Mr. Mhatre stepped out into his balcony. He could still barely see more than ten feet away. The day was gray, the sheet of water surrounding the flats was gray, the buildings were gray. He turned to go back in. Just then, a flash of colour caught his eye. He peered through the gloom. Were those two children sitting on the wall? He could only make out their chests and faces above the water. And what was that in the water next to them? Was it, my God, was it…? He turned into the house, calling for his brother, telling him that they needed to go down right away…

***

The living room was empty now. Except for Mr. Patel, sitting on the easy chair, his head back, eyes closed. Mrs. Patel was sleeping in the bedroom. Preeti was in her room, trying to connect to the emergency room, the police or the fire station for the thousandth time.

Was that the phone ringing?

Mr. Patel felt a hand on his shoulder. He wearily opened his eyes. It was Preeti, holding the cordless.

“Papa,” she said, her eyes glistening, “papa, you need to take this call…”

*********************