When the water came calling…

The clouds had nothing better to do or maybe God was in chronic depression. Suddenly unannounced, the makings of a cyclonic storm gathered its base between the teardrop nation and the Indian peninsula. Slowly gathering in strength, it swirled its way around Tamil Nadu and unleashed its fury- Cyclone Nisha was born!

Being residents of the capital of Tamil Nadu, one was at the thick of all the action- not that the cyclone was selective in its treatment or anything! The roads decided to compete against one another and welcomed the furious rain open-armed. The drains got clogged and coughed up their bit of drainage onto the warm streets. And what resulted was an amalgamation of everything that could make anyone throw up!

With the streets in such a pathetic state, could the homes be far behind? As Cyclone Nisha ran amuck in all wickedness, homes had a water invasion and in some areas it was so severe, that the bureaus and shelves were water filled! Some saw empty gas cylinders buoying up in their flooded homes!

A flat in the neighbouring street saw residents of the ground floor taking refuge in an empty house in the top floor and a temporary community kitchen was set up by the inmates informs Mrs.Rajalakshmi Jambunathan, resident of the flat.

While some Chennaiites declare that the city became the Indian Venice of the slush sort, some others actually made use of boats to escape their inundated homes! Auto prices shot to treble the original rates. Provided, one actually waded their way out of the house successfully!

Electricity played hide and seek with many houses rendered power-less for more than 45 hours!

Samuel Coleridge would have grinned in his grave and muttered once more, “Water water everywhere, and not a drop to drink”. Chennai seemed to be a perfect ode to his (in)famous lines! With drainage and the water bed doing a whole mix and match and motors not running due to the power cut, people had to rely on their wells for water. Homemakers had to pinch and save up water and stock it up for the uncertain tomorrow’s use.

Vegetables prices skyrocketed and so did other essential goods! Grandpa’s radio found new listeners with everyone tuning in to listen to updates on the shameful killings at Mumbai and their very own Cyclone Nisha. Families bonded under candlelight and cuppa noodles.

Phone lines went dead and so did trees that got uprooted. Newspapers and milk packets were delivered erratically. Candles sold like hot cakes.

While all the pitter-patter and puddle-pour was happening, amidst all the prayers of peace, all the pleas for some little sunshine, while un-cleaned statues got cleaned of their pigeon-droppings and un-watered trees had a merry wash, life turned topsy turvy and a tad too watery!

And all the while, the rains drummed together in symphony outside-suddenly reaching a vibrato, a high pitch or trembling down to a dulcet low.

“…and out pour in frenzy
a million droplets of rain
each with its own story
singing out its strain

as the droplets fall forth
each story enmeshes with the other
the varied voices fusing
in a single pitter-patter!”
Sandhya Ramachandran
[Image Source: http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2193/1788810899_4e4df7a84d.jpg]