The rain struck Bombay on Tuesday night and the above was the result of the backlash it unleashed. Tuesday night it grew very hot inside the compartment, and when the train approached Kurla, I felt a cool gust of air, soothingly caressing my skin. I looked outside, and, one of nature’s beautiful sights awaited me.
It was raining!
The water was dripping slowly from the windows, it cooled the sweaty bodies around me and the train stopped at several places in between stations. It was 10.30 when I reached Belapur, only to be met with a long, snaking queue for autorickshaws. A sardarji tried to bring order to the queue, mostly ignored by the queue-standers, too tired to listen to him. Well, dammit, the rickshaw drivers had made the rain an excuse to take the rest of the day off, and would be quaffing on rum by now, I thought. The rascals!
And the above is the picture of my commute on Wednesday when the trains again played truant, my usual train was cancelled, and when I made it to Andheri, the above picture was what caught my eye at the exit from the station on the East side. A long queue of people, slowly pacing, a step at a time, impatiently pushing against each other, head down, deep in thoughts, sweating freely, wet all over, some even listening to music.
Ah, well, that’s what the rain does to Bombay!
It was raining!
The water was dripping slowly from the windows, it cooled the sweaty bodies around me and the train stopped at several places in between stations. It was 10.30 when I reached Belapur, only to be met with a long, snaking queue for autorickshaws. A sardarji tried to bring order to the queue, mostly ignored by the queue-standers, too tired to listen to him. Well, dammit, the rickshaw drivers had made the rain an excuse to take the rest of the day off, and would be quaffing on rum by now, I thought. The rascals!
And the above is the picture of my commute on Wednesday when the trains again played truant, my usual train was cancelled, and when I made it to Andheri, the above picture was what caught my eye at the exit from the station on the East side. A long queue of people, slowly pacing, a step at a time, impatiently pushing against each other, head down, deep in thoughts, sweating freely, wet all over, some even listening to music.
Ah, well, that’s what the rain does to Bombay!
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