Chennai's Waterworld: Finding Hope in the Deluge

What a week it has been in Chennai! 

The arrival of Cyclone Michaung, which I am told should be pronounced fairly close to ‘mixed jam’, was anything but sweet. This cyclone brought our city a challenge that we should’ve got used to by now, considering the frequency at which similar events occur every year, and yet something we were scarcely prepared for. 

On the morning of December 4th, Anna Nagar West, a fairly well planned, school locality in Chennai, woke up to an unwelcome sight. The waters were rising steadily throughout the area and throughout the city, indifferent to the status or the distress of the neighborhood. We lost electricity early that day, a prelude to the series of events that would test our resolve in ways we never imagined.

With flooding of the house an imminent possibility, our first task was to find a motor to pump out the water. This turned into a quest through the flooded streets, resembling a scene from an adventure movie, albeit one we hadn’t signed up for. Securing the motor was just the beginning; without electricity, it was as useful as a chocolate teapot, since all the fuel driven motors were already rented out by others in similar ordeals throughout the city. The hunt for a generator began, accompanied by the challenge of finding fuel from a petrol station that hadn’t turned into a mini lake.

Renting the generator required paying an exorbitant sum, but desperate times called for desperate measures. We queued up to use the motor, prioritizing our neighbor’s house where the water had already made an unwelcome entrance, rising about 2 inches inside their home. Despite our best efforts in pumping out water, the water in our house and the area nearby, only seemed to mock our attempts, rising relentlessly.

We faced the bizarre predicament of being surrounded by water yet having none to drink or cook with. The storm had sabotaged the water pipes, leaving our overhead tank empty. In an improvised response, we collected rainwater from the terrace drain pipes, creating a makeshift reservoir - a hard toil that our unfit and unhealthy bodies hadn't been used for in a long long time.

The lack of mobile signal added to our isolation. Contacting anyone became a challenge, making us feel even more stranded. The submersible pump, which we had pinned our hopes on, proved no match for nature’s unbridled force. After about six hours and 15 liters of petrol, we had only managed to lower the water level by just a couple of inches. This was easily undone, by a bout of strong rains that never really looked at easing anytime soon.

As evening approached, the water began to seep into our home – a slow, inevitable invasion. The experience of watching your home getting flooded sowly is traumatic, leaving an indelible mark deep in our psyche, something I would never wish for anybody. Fortunately, we managed to move our electronics and important documents to higher ground, salvaging what we could from nature’s grip.

Our house owner, embodying kindness and empathy, offered us refuge on the first floor. This gesture of solidarity in the face of adversity was a silver lining in our dark clouds.

As we tried to sleep, constantly fighting the urge to check the rising water levels and the exhaustion of fighting nature during the day, the water eventually receded, and the sight of the sun the next day was a balm to our weary spirits. As someone who's lived in Chennai all long, I must admit I have never been so happy to see the sun shining in the morning. However, the aftermath was daunting. Cleaning and sanitizing our home and our surrounding became our new mission, one that required as much resilience as facing the flood itself, and something that is still work in progress even now.

When electricity and mobile connectivity were restored after 2 whole days, it felt like a return to civilization. The things we had taken for granted – light, communication, the convenience of running water – were now appreciated like never before.

Stepping outside, the extent of the destruction was heart-wrenching. Uprooted trees, floating cars, and submerged homes painted a picture of the cyclone’s might. Amidst this chaos, the human spirit of resilience shone brightly. People were determined to rebuild and move forward, a testament to our collective strength in the face of adversity.

Reflecting on these events, I realize the privilege from which I write this. Many are still grappling with the aftermath, their lives upended far more drastically than ours. Friends of mine had to be rescued from waist-deep water, and their path to normalcy is still fraught with challenges.

So, why share this on LinkedIn? This narrative isn’t about extracting a management lesson or pointing fingers at the culprits of urban mismanagement. It’s about recognizing the resilience that crises like these unearth in us. In these stories of survival and solidarity, there is a profound lesson about our insignificance against nature and the remarkable capacity of humans to adapt and overcome.

As I put this together, I am aware that the trauma might fade with time, as human nature is wont to do. But for now, the experience remains a vivid reminder of our vulnerabilities and strengths. What a week indeed – a week that tested our limits and taught us the power of hope and human resilience in the face of overwhelming odds. A week of rain, resilience, and the realization that sometimes, life throws you more than just lemons – sometimes, it's an entire storm. But we learn, we adapt, and like a good Chennai-ite, we wait for the sun to shine again, brighter than ever, probably gearing up to complain about too much sun when the month of May dawns on us.