When I was three, the 90’s had just arrived, checkered shirts were in vogue, gold-spot was the present-day ‘diet-coke’ and the artist formerly known as ‘Prince’ was then currently known as Prince. I don’t remember much from around that time but for the fact that I hated school (or tiny-tots to be more specific) as well as children who always cried. Yes, I was that kid. What I do remember is being shepherded home each day by my grandmother. Poor woman went through hell dealing with the ‘three year old’ me; you think I’m obnoxious now – you should have seen me twenty years ago! Without a care in the world, I used to hold onto her arm and swung it back and forth. The walk back home from school was simply magic, unless of course there was homework to be done – then there’d be no swinging. Just to be clear I hated homework more than I hated noisy children; I could at least hit the latter.
I remember this one day, as the skies opened up, we rounded up against the large windows to see the heavy rain lashing against the glass. When you are just about two feet high; life comes to you in 70mm and everything looks super-sized. The raindrops that evening surely did. Sure enough, one of the boys let slip that someone told him that the world is about to end. Soon half the girls and all the (other) boys started crying; worse they were making a lot of noise while at it.
When I told you I was manically obnoxious, I also meant I was clinically paranoid about things like… I don’t know… forgetting the alphabet, not getting my tiffin-box and the end of the world. One of the boys told us that his dad knew (sic) Superman so he and his family were safe. Now I was even more worried. I had never discussed my dad’s superhero acquaintances nor did I personally know any saving-the-day types. My paranoia went up a couple of notches. Looking back, I don’t really know what our teachers did all that while. For all we cared, they could have been as well sitting on the desk smoking a joint.
Soon enough, the bell rang and I saw my grandmother waiting to receive me. Still pouring, she held out a large umbrella as me and my paranoia both were relieved to be relatively dry. I remember asking her – why does it rain? (incorrectly) Believing that I wouldn’t understand the theory of evaporation, she gave me a simplistic answer. She told me, it rains when God cries. Putting two and two together, I asked her if he too was worried that the world will end. She burst out laughing and told me not to worry about that. Albeit slightly relieved, I decided to wait and see for myself. All I can tell you is that I wasn’t a happy chappy. There was no ‘hand-swinging’ that day.
I remember thinking to myself – how bad it would suck if the world ended that day. I hadn’t seen or spoken to my friends in a while, I’d miss Saturday morning He-man episodes, I hadn’t eaten the dahi-puri at Suvidha for a whole week and I hadn’t seen my parents that day (talk about misplaced priorities!). My grandmum cleaned me up and made me a snack. However, seeing that I was still tense about the impending apocalypse, the end of days, she sat me down and told me in no uncertain terms that the world WILL not end that day. I asked her why, and she said “because it’s not time yet!” I was relieved to hear that there was time more a few more dahi-puris and Saturday He-man reruns. Although, I still made a mental note of telling my dad to catch up with Super/ spiderman – whoever was up for the gig.
Today, I was reminded of this incident, twenty years later, as the rains once again lashed against the windows. Although, I am reasonably certain that the world will not end tonight, it does make me a wee bit depressed. Probably, that has something to do with my mental image of the almighty, wailing intermittently between June and September each year. That said, the lashing rain-drops do give me food for thought.
IF today actually was the end of the world, would you be satisfied with your life thus far? Have you done all that you’ve always wanted to? I for one have certainly not. While there are fewer he-man re runs to be caught now, there are more dahi-puris to be had, more girls to be loved, more money to be made, more places to see and people to meet, more things to learn and teach, parents to be supported and friends to be made; there was much more to live and apocalypse would be such a bummer! Till I’ve made peace with apocalypse, junk-food and myself, I guess all I can do is to draw hope from the words “…because it’s not time yet!”
It is common knowledge amid my mates that I hate rains. Probably stems from the fact that I have come to associate rains with flooded roads, clogged tracks, overflowing sewers and crying gods over the years. Given the amount of rain Mumbai has had over the past, you can easily surmise that I’m not jumping with joy. But that is because, I don’t farm for a living and water for me has been something that has been available on command – at the turn of a tap/spout. I have never really seen how water- or lack thereof, could throw one’s life out of gear. I’m willing to put my disillusions with rains aside for the greater good – that’s my version of the great sacrifice, take it or leave it. On a more serious note, I hope the municipal officials are well prepared to channel and harvest rain water this year after two consecutive years of drought so that Mumbai does not go thirsty. And GOD, mate, if you are listening please don’t cry! And if you really want to, then listen to Mitali Bapat and cry exclusively over catchment areas? Comprende?
