Ours is to not reason why, ours is to do and die

Just last month, the city was exultant in its glee whence the rains poured down upon it, banishing the scorching heat of the summer to its fiery prison for another year. And now, when one queries those who have lost so much to these very rains in the deluge of Wednesday, one cannot but help being surprised by the complete lack of any rancour for the heavens. No one, in their grief, ever stops from blaming the Gods for having caused them so much pain, and yet in the end, it is in this faith that the aggrieved rest their weary heads and sleep a slumber uneasy.

For the agriculturists, the wet spell is a blessing, and truly so, for this means a good harvest, a good produce, and slightly better incomes for the coming year. For the people in the cities, those whose homes have been washed away by the waters, this spell is the worst joke that the Gods could have played on them, and yet they do not blame Them as much as one would expect. Maybe, because the Indian people are so attuned into the cycles of karma and destiny, that they associate even with such disasters a sense of karmic belief. Having borne disasters such as communal riots, bureaucratic ineptitude, and political chicanery, the people now have become so resilient to such natural catastrophes that they almost seem zombie-like.

Speaking of bureaucratic ineptitude, I just read in the newspaper today that prior to Wednesday, the state Government's Disaster Management Committee had many meetings wherein rather than focusing on the need of the hour, i.e. making sure that the state was prepared to handle the vagaries of the monsoon, our leaders were more keen on doling out aid to those who have suffered in the droughts of summer. No offense to those who have suffered, yet, I do feel its too little, too late. The city of Mumbai is a showcase of how the bureaucracy has messed up.

This city, touted as the economic capital of India, was brought to a standstill within five hours of the rains pouring down. Of course, full-blooded Mumbaikars know that this is a regular phenomenon, and there is no new thing about this. And yet, Wednesday was different. Because unlike every year, the waters didn't just cause transport to grind to a halt, they virtually choked the city. Waters rose to nearly 4-5 feet in some areas, inundating vehicles and homes alike. People reached their homes nearly 24-36 hours after they had left from their offices. Some never quite made it, as the landslides in suburban Mumbai have well illustrated. And yet, Mumbai survived, the people of Mumbai have lived to tell the tale.

The credit for this goes not to our government officials, but to the people themselves. Scores of people, who really ought to have been sheltering themselves in cosy homes, drinking hot tea, and having hot bhajiyas (onion fries), came out on the roads to help their comrades to reach home safely. When the situation appeared really desolate, these Samaritans provided the stranded souls with biscuits, wafers, hot tea, clean drinking water, and any other assistance that could be given at such short notice. The radio stations continuously blared out messages to stranded people from their family members, imploring them to stay put, and wait for the situation to improve. Social service organisations came out on the roads to try to clear the roads, and assist pedestrian traffic.

Perhaps, when Lord Tennyson wrote the lines 'Ours not to reason why, ours is to do and die', he may not have imagined that the Mumbaikar had made it his/her anthem. For, not for a moment, did the Mumbaikar reason as to why he ought to do what he did that day, he simply plunged to his comrade's rescue, to assist and provide complete strangers succour, when they needed it the most, maybe with the thought that someday when they should need help, some stranger will extend the same hand forward, and complete the circle of humanity, the circle of magnanimity.