As part of my first factory stint with HLL, I was posted at the Silvassa factory. The place was idyllic for the first week, great for the second, good for the third and considering the fact that I had to be there for a total of 15 weeks, you can imagine the relief I had when I was out. This particular incident happened somewhere mid way through my stint when the adjectives I was using for the place were hovering between “dump” and “please-get-me-out-of-here”.
On a certain very wet morning in the place previously mentioned, I was preparing to go to the factory at about 8:00 a.m. Considering the fact that I originate from a very dry part of the country, I was thrilled to have the rains when the season started. But by this very eventful day, I had begun to look for avenues of getting a transfer to Egypt probably for the good part of the rest of my life selling knick-knacks to the Bedouins in the Sahara desert. Anyway, work was worship at the time and I was as mentioned earlier all geared up to meet the challenges of the day at the factory. The car arrived at the guest- house I was putting up and we began our usual 30-minute ride to work. The car in question here was a Tata Indica (a very important fact as you will realize as you progress into the passage). Well after about 10 minutes into the trip, we encountered a pool of water as a result of the incessant rains in the past few days. Nonchalantly, I egged on the driver of the car as he gingerly crossed the water log (do notice the contrasting attitudes of the two characters in question and then try to guess who is vindicated.) The first small obstacle out of the way, I was feeling very happy that I had got one up on the weather (at this very precise moment, it is well documented in the logs of the upper reaches of heaven that the gods were rolling around in laughter at the antics of a certain human on earth. The identity of the human has been kept secret for security reasons.)As we progressed onwards, the big brother of the log that we had left behind confronted us and he did not at all seem pleased that we had defied junior and botched the family honor. Well at this point all my nonchalance flew out of the window and driver and me decided to make a quick getaway. The driver made a quick turnaround and we were on our way back. But the logs had decided to have a family reunion of sorts at precisely that moment and so junior had drawn in a lot of resources that would definitely make any Tata Indica feel a good two feet too short to make it across. Spotting an incline by the side of the road, we decided to halt there thinking after all the rain was going to stop in a few moments and then obviously the water logs’ family reunion would be over.
Hour 1: The rain showed no signs of stopping and the level of water was continuously rising. The water logs were doing a kind of victory dance at that point of time and the weather gods were obviously just getting warmed up. Suddenly the radio cracked to life only to inform that an old dam built across Daman Ganga (the river flowing through the city of Silvassa) was on the verge of failing because of the rising level of water and that they would have to open the gates to relieve the pressure. As a result of this act of the incompetent nincompoops at the damn dam office, the water level in the river rose 15 feet inside of 20 minutes. It was almost as if the small family party of the water logs had out of the blue gained the status of a national congregation and guests were not found wanting. As I sat there in the car parked on the incline, I could see the river flowing onto the street and hordes of people just running helter-skelter to save their skins.
Hour 2: The rain had intensified since the last hour and I had abandoned all hope of ever getting out of this self imposed car arrest in the near future. So I decided to sleep out the fury dance of Nature.
Hour 3: Still sleeping
Hour 4: Absolutely exhausted by sleeping and had to do something to keep myself alive at this point of time. So I asked the driver to put on some music and tried to relax my jangled nerves. With a start, the strains of the world famous multi-platinum album “Bihar Mein Bawaal Karela” burst out into the stifled atmosphere of the car and all the grogginess I was feeling from the nodding of the last 2 hours vanished as if I had just taken a dip in a pond of Coffee. 2 stanzas into the crooning about how the singer’s girlfriend’s anatomy was the moot discussion point among all high and low gentry of each and every street corner of Bihar, I could bear it no longer. What I had hoped to be Jagjit Singh’s soothing voice turned out to be this cacophonous cackle with the background orchestra so enthusiastic at having got their break in front of a recording studio that they had abandoned all norms of music. They had decided to use this opportunity to kick-start an entirely new genre – the “You-do-your-job-I-do-mine-listener-can-go-to-hell” category. Well after a stern look towards the driver who was a very intelligent fellow and quickly grasped the point that continuing with the anatomical discussions of the female on air could have serious implications on his physical well being promptly turned the blare down.
Hour 5: Stifling silence inside the car. It was beginning to get to me. The outside chaos was in perfect contrast to the eerie tranquility inside the closed windows of the car. And there were these two pairs of eyes dolefully looking out into the fury of Nature hoping… just hoping for some kind of a response, a sign that the gods had had their laugh, their appetites for destruction sated and their afternoon playtime was nearing an end. The pitter -patter of raindrops continued unabated through this hour too.
Hour 6: By the time this hour was ending, I was beginning to feel that if I did not do something soon; I might as well never do anything else in life. It was almost as if I was ready to dare the gods themselves. So after having been exhausted from sleep and more than startled with Bihar Mein Bawaal Karela and utilizing my entire quota of hope for seven lifetimes, I signed off the car and stepped out gingerly into the thumping rain. Well I had mentally prepared myself for the piercing raindrops that were going to hit my head once I was out of the shelter of the car but what I had not prepared for was the “huge” (and I am using this because my vocabulary is found wanting to describe largeness at this point of time) puddle of water in front of me. Anyway, I tested the water height with my feet and to my utter pleasure it was only knee deep. Calling out to the entire Hindu pantheon and then for good measure making sure that there was backup from other religious figures in case the Hindu deities had decided to go on a picnic, I stepped into the water. I am sure that by now you would have guessed that luck was not one of my strong points on this particular day. Therefore as was to be expected, the knee-deep water lasted only the length of 2 knees and thereafter became chest deep. If know the kind of physique I carry around and the fact that I have no knowledge whatsoever of swimming, you would realize the kind of thoughts that were running inside my head at this very moment. Thankfully there were other people who had taken the plunge as well and I followed these godly souls across to land.
Hour 7: It was by now around 3:00 p.m. and I was weary, tired and hungry and yearning to get back to the shelter of my guest house. As I turned the corner which would bring into view the road leading to the Guest house, I realized that not only the Hindu Pantheon but the entire community of beings that have been given place up there by all the religions in the world had decided that today was the day they were going to show solidarity in making my life hell. Wonder of wonders, the road leading to the guest house was flooded till such a height that later when the water subsided, a bus appeared from under. So I looked around for salvation and thence I saw an HLL accredited Hotel to my left. Finding that the ATM was also above ground and fully functional and making sure that I would not have to make a cameo appearance inside the kitchen of the Hotel washing utensils, I entered the place.
Hour 8: If you are of the opinion that the Gods had by now had enough of their obsession with making my life miserable, then you need hit those religious treatises once again and learn more about the almighty. As I entered the compound of the Hotel called “Greenwood” I could see my General Factory Manager along with the entire posse of managers from the factory stranded at the same Hotel frantically waiving out to me. So it was that I found myself a moment later dripping on the carpet like a wet dog explaining my daredevil stunt to the man who could make the strongest of Samsons go weak in the knees just by casting a glance in his direction. The rest of the hour went by in trying my best to dry myself and having a very welcome lunch.
Hour 9: The managers decided to leave for their houses as the ways had cleared but of course as usual, the road leading to the guest house had not received the memo. It still clung tightly to all the water that it had accumulated over the days length and there I was standing in front of it entirely perplexed as to the amount of wrongdoings that I had committed in my past life to merit a karma as this.
Hours 10, 11 and 12: I decided to club these hours because they were spent in standing in front of the road wishing the water away.
Finally at about 8 in the night, I was able to gingerly step into the guest house and have a bath after which I had a delicious dinner cooked by the caretaker. At the end of the day I simply crashed onto the bed and woke up the next to day to another moronic wet day. But I had learnt my lesson the previous day ….. I had made sure today was a Sunday.
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