from the municipality, the bank let the
staff leave early.
Some colleagues, who had already
left, called to say that they were
stranded—train services had been
stalled and there were no buses
or autorickshaws available either.
At the office lobby a senior colleague,
R. K. Kularay, who happened to live
in Nerul, offered me a lift in his car. I
agreed happily, since it would have
been foolhardy to walk into the driving
rain. We were joined by another
colleague, Arvind Rampuria, and a
vendor, who also hopped on.T
he rain pelted down incessantly,
and soon the roads were flooded
with waist-high water. As we
waded through it, we found volunteers
and police personnel directing the
heavy traffic and handing out biscuit
packets to stranded commuters. They
informed us that our usual route was
heavily flooded and suggested we take
the Sion–Panvel highway.
Midway between Kurla and Sion,
the rainwater reached our car’s engine.
We had no option but to park it near
Kurla–CST Road. The first dry place we
found was under a giant peepul tree
with a raised platform surrounding it.
We also spotted a tea stall nearby and
got ourselves some much-needed tea
and refreshments.
All along, I got frantic phone calls
from my wife and parents, who were
tracking the flood situation on TV. We
looked up weather updates on ourmobile phones and got more and more
tense—home seemed far away. Had it
not been for my portable power bank,
all our phones would have been dead.
Our train of thoughts was suddenly
disrupted by a raised voice. We looked
around and found a lady calling
out from the balcony of a run-down
building behind us. “Please come in
and make yourselves comfortable.
How long will you stand out there?”
she shouted out. We thanked her, but
continued to wait.
After half an hour or so, I felt a tap
on my shoulder. The lady from the
balcony had come down accompanied
by a man whom she introduced as her
brother. This time, not heeding our
remonstrations, they persuaded us to
follow them.
We were pleased to meet the Bhosale
family—the kind lady was apparently
visiting her parents and was also stuck,
just like us. The Bhosales had lived in
the area for a few generations and ran
a transport business. Their home and
lifestyle were modest; what was extra-
ordinary was the family’s kindness—
they had rescued stranded folk during
the 2005 floods as well, we learnt.
We were offered tea and the use
of their washroom. By then it was
7.30 p.m. Grateful for everything, we
assured them that we would leave as
soon as the waters receded. However,
the family would have none of it and in-
sisted that we have the dinner that was
being cooked for us. Their office was in
the adjacent flat, where we were taken96 september 2019
Reader’s Digest