My husband did indeed successfully fly into Mumbai. In fact, he was only an hour late. His flight was one of the very few that made it all the way in to Mumbai. Apparently they announced in-flight that they might divert to Ahmedabad (yeah, I don't know where that is, either), but his flight came at the tail end of the storm and it was unnecessary. It sounds as though more people spent the night in Ahmedabad or other cities than made it back to Mumbai.
The next morning I awoke and did my usual pre-gym routine. I got up, ate a bowl of chocolate lucky charms and a banana, proceeded to drink an entire liter of water (hey, it is HOT here), and checked my e-mail. I next showered. Yes, I shower before going to the gym. It is so hot that I just stink to high heaven. When I return from the gym I shower and wash my hair, and then, near nightfall, sometimes I shower again because I have sweated so much my hair is unbearably smelly.
Anyhow, after the shower I walked back into our bedroom (quietly, because my husband was still asleep). I slipped, and almost fell. Confused (it was dark), I felt around and discovered that the floor was wet. In fact, a lot of the floor was wet. Despite his sleep, I flipped on the light switch. A gigantic puddle covered a quarter of the room. It was bigger than the puddle in our family driveway, which, if you’ve seen that after a rainstorm, you’d be sufficiently impressed now.
Both of our suitcases were sitting smack in the middle of the puddle. We didn’t bother to completely unpack and put them away because we were both flying out in two days. Both were flat, which as much floor contact as possible, but fortunately both were also closed. His dress shoes and other items had been unpacked and thrown on the floor, but fortunately were still encased in a plastic bag and unharmed. I gingerly picked up his various scattered items (he was still fast asleep), took the towel off my head, and wiped them down. Next I picked up his suitcase and water just gushed from the back of the suitcase exactly as you’d expect in a dramatic movie version of our life. I zipped up each pocket and dragged it away from the puddle. Next, mine. Mine actually had stuff piled on top of it, but that was all dry. I dumped the interior items (still dry, fortunately) on the bed (now my husband was starting to stir) and zipped it up, too, and moved it aside. I then took all seven towels out of our closet and tried to cover the puddle. It wasn’t enough to soak it all up.
My husband, 99% asleep and facing the opposite direction of the puddle, mumbled that it was due to the suitcase. The trip from the airplane to baggage claim had soaked it, and then it expelled all of the water onto our bedroom floor as he had slept. I accepted that theory. I had been wondering how the heck my shower water had seeped through a closed door and coalesced onto our floor.
Of course, when we were both fully awake, after I had returned from the gym, and had the wisdom of our maid with us, she pointed out that it was probably due to our air-conditioner. It just so happens that we hadn’t run the AC the previous night, so I had disagreed with her at first. But my husband’s suitcase was directly beneath the AC, so maybe it started to overflow during the storm. My friend E has an AC unit in their house that drips water whenever the outside bucket fills (I don’t quite understand all of this). But I guess an AC is like sewage or the storm drains on your roof. It can overflow and get backed up. I think our AC just got overwhelmed and the water flowed back into the room.
The drive to the gym (certainly less than five minutes) resembled a drive through home after a big storm. Except Mumbai is really dirty and full of trash, so there was a lot more garbage strewn about than in Michigan. Trees were down, leaves were everywhere. Massive receding puddles marred the roads.
The worst sight, however, was a huge downed tree. My driver stopped near it, and pointed. Hidden way beneath the bright green leaves was an auto rickshaw. The tiny vehicle was completely crushed. Oh, I just hope it was parked and no one was in it. My driver was outraged because the owner wouldn’t get his money from insurance for three to four months. I tried to ask him if he’d heard of Hurricane Katrina and FEMA, but he just didn’t get it that three to four months seems fast in some cases.
He told me that the downed trees and electrocution were the worst problems in the rainy season. True enough, I checked the paper on Sunday and someone was electrocuted during the mild storm on Saturday (this blog is about the aftermath of the big storm on Friday). It was just a man, leaving his office after working too hard on a Saturday. He just happened to have stepped in one of the many puddles by his office. But one puddle must have had a wire through it, somewhere. He died.
My driver’s report was that everything in his home was soaking wet. He was wearing his red long-sleeved button down shirt, which I know that he hates wearing (he prefers T-shirts), so I guess it was the only thing buried deep enough in his clothes stack to be dry.
When I returned back home, I asked my cook if her daughters had been scared during the storm. That thunder and lighting was so loud and close that I was jumpy. Her daughters are about three and thirteen. I would have been terrified if I were them. But she said no, and laughed. Apparently, if I understood her correctly, Indian children in general aren’t afraid of thunder and lightning. I wonder if that could possibly be true. I thought all kids were afraid of it at some point?
My husband and I decided to go to lunch and a movie for our Saturday event out. I prefer lunch out over dinners out because I like to eat a lot. It just makes more sense to eat a lot at lunch rather than dinner. My husband loves me, so he agrees and we often go out to lunch rather than dinner. Of course, being from the country, I call the biggest meal of the day dinner, so we are still going out for dinner. I just call it lunch to satisfy my husband’s newfangled ideas…
Anyhow, in movies, when there is a bomb, and they always save the day right when there is one second left before it blows up? Our dinnertime time rain was like that. We went down the elevator, to our lobby, jumped in our car, and it just started to downpour the second both car doors were shut.
When we got back home (the movie- I’ll write another blog about that), despite the rain, there was no puddle on our bedroom floor. So who knows? Maybe it was just a fluke.
These showers have just been pre-monsoon. The real stuff starts on Monday, apparently. Of course, I’m flying back to Delhi on Monday, so I guess I’ll miss the good stuff.
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