WATCHING the downpour at the rise of the rainy season, Richa recalled an eventful day of commuting in the rains …
She stood with her clothes clung damply to her skin as she gawked at the slightly submerged route for a bus, under the bus-stop’s asbestos roof that trickled in voluminous drops of rainwater through unruly scattered tiny holes. She along with her colleagues had trekked in the cascade against the fierceness of the wind, which toyed with the umbrellas and waved their clothes to drench them in the soaker, on the nearly desolate highway – to reach a suburban railway station, where she parted from the group to seek a public transport bus ––
In the gloomy mid-afternoon, the coarse sound of the rough rain mercilessly lashing on the robust glass pane disturbed the hushed office environment; it was raining unceasingly. Richa glimpsed through the window to peek at the situation outside, to her astonishment she found the streets and compound of the residential buildings situated in low lying areas flooded.
In the faded early evening, the employees of her office were informed to leave for home ––
In the sogginess of the weather her dark eyes spotted a van ferrying people for a reasonable fare towards the expressway, she hesitated for a moment before leaping in the vehicle; it wheeled on the water-logged road and halted on the periphery of the arterial highway.
‘Now a few kilometres is left to cover but the road ahead is erratically flooded’, she sulked at the gloomy situation; she sighed a pause of relief when she sighted a bus approaching, overloaded with people, luckily it halted for her. She stood near the doorway of the bus, adjacent to the driver’s cabin; other people who were packed inside were literally airless.
‘I’ll have to swim across a lake of thigh deep chocolaty water to reach home’, she mocked at the plight when the bus halted on the plain internal road ahead from her residential area because of water-logging. She successfully waded through the narrow street clogged with rainwater; a couple of times striving to balance herself against the force of the deluge. “Whew!” She blew out a breath when she reached her home on that endeavouring day.
However, the other colleagues – who had left to board suburban train, were in for a shock; due to water-logging on the tracks the local train movement had halted, they walked back to their homes on the flooded tracks.
… As she supped warm coffee standing next to the immense window of her home and admired the beauty of the greenery as rains inundated the ground for a rustic tang, Richa delightfully soaked one of her hands in the downpour.