Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Apres Moi, Le Deluge

And always, the rains...

I've written about monsoons before, but tonight's ride (swim??) from work reached epic proportions, with wrecks of rickshaws and Ganeshas strewn on the streets and tons of people wading through the shin-deep water to look for some shelter from the rain (one of the most popular places for cover appeared to be under the huge cranes lined up for the Ganesha festival!)

My auto-rickshaw feels a bit like Noah's arc, the driver picking up friends here and there, with everyone cramming into the back.  No matter, I'm just happy to be in something semi-dry and semi-moving.  

My colleagues try to dissuade me from leaving work and going out into the rains, but I laugh and say we're all waterproof!  Of course, I'm not laughing nearly as hard when I step outside to find the waters literally midway to my knees.  It's silly to even try pulling my pants up; I'm instantly drenched anyway.

Even as we're driving, my auto driver keeps trying to dissuade me from going home -- "You can go tomorrow!!  What's so important?"  Um, home.  And sleep.

The Ganeshas that looked so majestic yesterday now look a bit war-torn and beaten...although some dedicated followers proceed with the pomp and circumstance, drums and all!

As we drive, a giant bus drives right alongside my auto, splashing what feels like ten bucketfuls of water right on me -- face, clothes, bag are completely soaked.  Driver and friend look at me, I look down at myself... 

And there's nothing to do but break into hysterical laughter!!

Tyler and I joke that Delhi in summer looks like the apocalypse -- white and grey dust everywhere...even the setting sun is literally white (the first time I saw it, I confused it with the moon)!!  And I can't help but think this feels a bit biblical as well.  Tonight's floods are unlike anything I've seen or experienced before.

The ride back takes even longer than expected, with my driver constantly asking other auto drivers where the "panee" (water) is particularly bad -- so we can attempt to avoid it (which doesn't really seem to work anyway).

I finally reach home, cold and shivering in August!  I've never been so grateful for a nice hot shower...

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