It is impossible for any of us to date the videos that start to appear online whenever the first rain hits our cities. Where this happens is irrelevant, be it Bombay, Bangalore, or Patna, because the nature of what we see is strikingly similar: submerged automobiles, stranded cyclists, and scores of men and women drenched to the bone, huddling under makeshift shelters for safety. It’s as if someone, somewhere, has a whole bank of them and starts to share them as posts about petrichor trickle in.
We can’t date those videos because they could belong to any year between 1990 and 2025. And we forward them to each other with grim satisfaction because they feel like mementos of the collective trauma that millions of Indians must accept each year.
The headlines don’t seem to change much either. I have read them time and again for as long as I can remember, and no one I know can declare the year in which they appear with certainty. Consider these samples as proof: ‘Heavy rain disrupts power supply’; ‘Over 200 buildings declared dangerous for living’; ‘IMD issues red alert’; ‘Rain brings flooding and traffic woes’; ‘Roof collapse takes death toll to six.’ See what I mean? They could be from the 1990s, or from last week. You wouldn’t know because of how often you have seen them, too.
There are some things we should accept by now, if a majority haven’t already. The first is the inevitability of misery that accompanies the arrival of any season in urban India, because few of our cities have been developed with common sense in mind. Even as you read this, there are talks of trees to be uprooted and mangroves to be demolished, while scientists warn that 10 per cent of Bombay could be underwater within 15 years.
The second is the certainty that nothing will change because we keep electing the wrong people to power. This has less to do with the fact that qualified people walk amongst us than the sad reality that these folk never choose politics because they know they stand no chance. It is bigotry that increasingly drives our political choices, not a desire for accountability or common good. It’s why ministers can get away with promises of a safe monsoon each year, even as the hollowness of their claims are revealed hours after those first showers.
One can almost imagine the meetings at Mantralaya convened by April or so: the discussions of what press releases are to be rehashed and sent out again, promises of clean gutters and complete roadwork to be reiterated, and stern warnings about heavy fines for contractors who fail to meet their deadlines. Who among us can’t recall those proclamations if asked?
It’s why I believe we should stop complaining and start celebrating this ineptitude instead. I recommend sharing those videos of Saki Naka with friends in San Diego and telling them that life in these parts is all about never-ending fun, frolic, and adventure. When the trains and buses stop running, we should post encouraging comments about how the rain is helping so many of us rediscover the city on foot. When the floods arrive, let’s put up those videos of children swimming, the ones that our millionaires tend to post with captions like ‘When Life Hands You Lemons…’
Let’s stop worrying about disease, death, and dangerous conditions for pedestrians or commuters when thunderstorms are announced, and celebrate each day that a friend or family member survives unscathed. Why berate the BMC for corruption, incompetence, or stupidity when we can send them letters of appreciation instead? They may not get sarcasm, but perhaps embarrassment might help a little. Once we accept that decades of complaining have failed to stop Hindmata chowk from flooding, maybe we can just write off large parts of the city as out of bounds between the months of June and September. That way, even visitors to Bombay can’t say they haven’t been warned.
Acceptance, not criticism, may help us find the strength to cope in the face of this perennial apathy.
All of this may sound as if I am being facetious, but I’m not. I am simply doing what entrepreneurs and people with MBAs ask their exploited and underpaid employees to do whenever it’s time for a bonus: embrace the bad times and start leaning into them. Our fabulous central government has already coined a helpful slogan that captures this sentiment perfectly and poignantly. It’s called ‘Sabka Saath, Sabka Vikaas.’
When he isn’t ranting about all things Mumbai, Lindsay Pereira can be almost sweet. He tweets @lindsaypereira
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