When it rains it pours grief in B’lore

When it rains it pours grief in B’lore
Anamika Mukherjee
Deccan Herald

Every year during the rains, Bangalore witnesses tragic events of people getting washed away in drains.

I watched the rain coming down in sheets, being swept by the wind across the landscape of Creator building in ITPL. This would stop by the time we left to catch our shuttles home at 5.30 pm, I thought, hopefully.

It did. There was heavy traffic on the roads and when we reached the infamous Airport Road-Ring Road intersection, we saw the flooding on Ring Road, which had already created traffic blocks. As our bus wound its way towards Ashwini Layout, three of us got off at the bus-stop and started on the narrow lane. The road was awash and the few people attempting to cross it were more than ankle-deep in water.

Water world

My colleague met his friend who was returning from Langford Town but unsuccessfully trying to find his way home even one hour later. He gave us the update on Koramangala, Ejipura and surrounding areas. The open drain behind National Games Village, where I was headed, was overflowing and had already created havoc. He told me the only way I could enter was through the gate on Viveknagar side. And I could get there only through Koramangala 6th block, skirt around the National Dairy Board and the Stadium and then head for the far gate. Not a pleasant prospect.

The going seemed good as long as I followed his advice. But when I exited Koramangala 6th Block near Devi Eye Clinic, I could see that the water-logging was for a very short stretch, close to the National Games Stadium intersection. I decided to take the narrow, muddy footpath that seemed to offer a chance of making it to the stadium entrance to National Games Village.

The footpath was at an elevation, because several months ago a civic body had started to excavate a drain and the mud had been piled up on the edge of the road. And it has stayed there ever since. When the rains turned the rest of the road to slush, the mud offered a way through, albeit a rather unpleasant one. But this time the embankment had got washed away in parts. In some places, people had placed blocks of stone to step on and this I proceeded to do. At the corner, I saw a man slip and disappear into the mud upto his waist. He was too far away; I could only watch. Fortunately, he scrambled out of the drain. That could happen to me, I thought. But I knew this path – I walked it everyday. I tested the water gingerly and took my next step. The ground gave way and suddenly I was upto my chest in water. Everything from my clothes to Nike shoes, to Sony Ericsson cellphone and IBM laptop – was full of mud.

It could happen to you

I could see myself becoming another headline: ‘15 People and an IBM Laptop washed away in open drains in separate incidents’. Someone pulled me up. I was pushed roughly but kindly to the centre of the road and exhorted not to venture to the side again.

I started walking again - an unenviable sight, with my muddy jeans clinging to me and leaving me no trace of modesty. In the National Games Village, the situation was only mildly better: The main road was flooded with water from the drain.

I reached home and put myself and everything on me straight into a bucketful of hot water. But not my laptop, of course, which I took out and inspected carefully. It seemed to be dry, and when I turned it on, it worked. I could not say the same for my cellphone. I also found in my jeans pocket, change for about Rs 80, which was now wet and dirty. If ever there was money that needed laundering, I thought to myself…

But the important thing was that I was safe and I had learnt two important lessons: Don’t carry your cellphone in your pocket; walk in the centre of the road.

My experience may sound humorous, but is more a tragic issue. When I fell into that drain, in that one short instant I realised: This could happen to anyone.

Every year people get washed away in open drains. That a relatively short-lived downpour can cause a city to come to a standstill is a tragedy. And in such a situation it is the person on the road you must rely on for help, while the faceless “Government” does nothing.

And that is a greater tragedy.