Their noble intentions had them running up and down 15 floors in pitch darkness, plunging into swirling waters, balancing food containers aloft and feeding all the hungry souls they could find. Who says rich brats don’t have a heart?

The unprecedented deluge of July 26, 2005 brought the bustling megalopolis of Mumbai to a complete standstill. What rose shining and unbidden in the dense darkness and on watery roads were daredevil rescuers and good Samaritans who toiled relentlessly to offer relief to the afflicted. JAYASHREE MENON celebrates the feelings of bonhomie and compassion that inspired Mumbaiites, that torrential Tuesday

“Yeh hai Bombay, yeh hai Bombay, yeh hai Bombay meri jaan…”

This is by far the most popular musical ode to this city, reflecting as it does the never-say-die spirit and gung ho disposition of this megalopolis. But did this cheerful song pierce through the dense darkness and pouring rain on that dreadful night of July 26, ’05? Did it touch the hearts and minds of the thousands wading numbingly through chest deep water on that torrential Tuesday? Did its optimism find an echo amongst the weary sighs of the many forced to stay overnight in trains, buses, cars and autos? From what I’ve read and heard and experienced, I’d say ‘Yes’...a resounding and deafening ‘Yes’.

For that was the day, Mumbai – this great and glorious city of mine – was brought down to its knees. The fury of Mother Nature succeeded where riots and bomb blasts, political apathy and unchecked development had failed and Mumbai meri jaan capitulated, completely and quickly. That too, ironically, on the one day, when all of us, whether safe and dry at home or drenched and shivering out there in the rains, needed desperately to hang on to the cheery optimism of that eponymous song.

For the many stuck in stalled vehicles for hours on end with no end to the rain or respite in sight, volunteers would appear magically out of the darkness with water bottles and biscuit packets. My husband, Bobby Menon, floating in his Santro recollects the hot chai pressed on him by total strangers at King Circle, while chartered accountant, Hunaid Contractor, regrets not availing of the steaming packet of biryani thrust through his car window near Santa Cruz.

The most daring, typically Bambaiyya story surely came from Kalina-Kurla, one of the worst affected areas in the city. Almost 250 people had taken shelter atop the roof of a bus, when rising waters threatened their safety inside the bus. Perched precariously on the slippery roof, petrified of drowning in over 10 feet of water if they slipped, sodden to the bones by the pelting rain, their shouts for help remained unanswered. Till three gallant knights took matters in hand. Thirty-year-old Sanjay Nigam was the first to take the plunge. Diving off the bus roof, he swam across to the nearest house he could find which happened to be the first floor flat in Air India Colony belonging to a R Ramakrishna and apprised him of the gravity of the situation. With the characteristic Bambaiyya attitude of ‘do first ask later’ Ramakrishna’s daughter, Anjana, quickly inflated her plastic swimming tube turning it into a makeshift canoe. Armed with two wooden sticks and emergency light, Nigam began ferrying people from the bus to the house. But the water level rose further, making navigation with the wooden sticks impossible. This is when over 50 women on the buses removed their saris to make a rope; but when that fell short, Ramakrishna’s wife and mother offered another 20 saris. With one end of the sari rope tied to their house and the other to the bus, and using the rope for support, the trio helped rescue almost 250 people. Ramakrishna’s family made these 250 people comfortable in their two bedroom house serving tea and snacks to all. Maybe it’s this legendary Mumbai hospitality that’s at the root of all that unchecked migration into the city.

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