Catastrophe

It had been raining for everyday, for the past one week.

 Not that it was pouring most of the time . The skies would relent a few hours everyday, as if they were taking a break themselves.

Then it would begin. The downpour , steady, massive . Occasionally , a tired cloud would utter a wee thunder. Mostly it was a ceaseless, almost noiseless, emptying of the skies.The TV called it a cloudburst. But there was no lightning and booming fireworks associated. It was a silent vengeance of the Gods.

Shamis father was in a tizzy since morning. The supplies had dwindled, the markets flooded and closed. The water, like a desperate living thing had quietly seeped into the house, while everyone slept. The carpet was found floating on a bed of water , half an inch thick. The bathroom mats, having lost their moorings, were cruising all over the place, so was Maa’s pink bunny slippers, its furry ends dripping comically wet.

Shami’s annual function prize, a blue paper lantern was found in the kitchen, wedged between the twin gas cylinders, softly swaying as Shami waded up , in his wet pyjamas.He gently extricated the gift , its paper all soggy and torn, and said ,to himself-“Now, this is catastrophe.”

#################################################################################It was deemed a catastrophe for reasons more than one . It was what brought Neha close to him. The reclusive ,dainty. beautiful, Neha of Class 10.

Shami still remembers the annual function , when he was awarded the lamp for academic brilliance. "Lamp, brilliant!"What cliches, he had thought tiredly.

Suddenly someone  came and stood at his side. The Eva deospray. he knew the fragrance all too well, having sniffed it like a hound , on the staircase, several times when Neha had to rush to catch the impatiently purring school-bus."That girl pours a bottle of deo on herself every morning.What a waste !!"Maa would fume as she would fumble with the latch, rushing to drop Shami to coaching classes.

Another thing which Shami hated . Being in Class 12, he had to attend coaching classes and thereby miss the bus ride with Neha. The gorgeous Neha , reeking of  Eva and sunsilk shampoo, turning heads and tying  tongues.

"Can I hold it for a second?"
For a second ! Hold it for eternity, please. The lucky lamp. Wretched me!!
Shami dumbly thrust it into her hands. He stood watching her "oohing and aahing" over the silly thing , and had decided to give it to her , when Maa arrived. Spoiling all his chances, as she usually does.
"Hai beta!! " Maa had unceremoniously grabbed him and hugged him, thrusting his bespectacled face to her impossibly huge bosom,declaring her indelible maternal rights .Shami wriggled free, red faced and smoothed his hair. He  panted -"Maa, Neha."
Neha smiled sweetly and said -"Hello auntie!"
Then handing the lamp delicately back, she said-"I must be going. Thanks."Again the sweet , dimpled smile. Shami's heart skipped a beat.He watched the retreating back, mesmerised.
"Yeh uparwali ladki hai na, Mishra ki beti?"
Maa would descend to the vernacular,when she had to belittle someone.
Neha lived on the first floor,and her father was a junior employee in Papa's company.

#################################################################################

Shami sat with the sodden lamp , remembering how Neha had come down , in a first , to his home and helped him install the zero watt bulb, and how the chinese characters threw a flickering shadow on the wall. What he remembered most was the childlike glee that shone through her face and eyes. Lamp, brilliant.

The house was in a state of chaotic uproar. Papa was taping the plug points at floor level shut, to avoid flood water from entering the sockets.TV had been disconnected, and sat forlornly, darkly reflecting all the chaos. Maa was drying her bunny slippers with a noisy hair drier, looking fiercely amazonian with her hair in curlers, wet nightgown making sucking noises at her fat ankles, with each step.Papa was shouting at her -do-not-use-the-drier-woman.She shouted back what-will-i-wear-on-my-feet-then.

I was about to tell Maa that her feet are going to be perpetually wet , henceforth, when Papa waved a fifty rupees note in my face"Go and get some milk and bread , you good-for-nothing-lump-of-godknowswhat."
Papa was scared, and desperate.Hence, the anger. Normally he is inaudible.
Maa is the one in charge of decibel levels at home. She too cowered in silence now.Lights gave one last brave flicker, and went off. Plunging the mayhem into darkness.

#################################################################################
The market was, predictably closed. Papa probably knew this. He was just getting me out of the way.
The raindrops dolefully drummed on the umbrella,

Shami had rolled up his pajama legs , and was concentrating on the dripping umbrella not wetting him further, when he heard someone call him-"Shammi beta !"

He gaped at the sight of Mishraji , in rolled up pajamas holding a tray, and simpering behind him, Neha holding a large casserole, wearing a faded green frock and lighting up the day.
"Uncle! "
"We rang the bell, several times."
"Woh uncle !"Shami laughed embarrassed,"Maa used the drier on the inverter, and bijli conked off."

Shami grinned wickedly, trying to impress the father . Mishraji was wise, and didn't rise to the bait. He knew better than to laugh at his employer's wife's silly follies.He had a family to feed.

Shami's parents were still at it, hammer and tongs , when the door opened .

Hands on hips, his Maa exhorted-"I ask you ji, how is one supposed to know ki inverter on hai.?"
"The whole city is suffering powercut begumji."
#############################################################################

Half an hour later, in his dry clothes, Shami sat cross legged on Neha's sofa eating pakoras and drinking searingly sweet hot tea., and his father sat reviewing the flood situation on TV ,with Mishraji.

Ma , subdued sat in Neha's bedroom, Mishrani plying her with tea and pakoras, while Ma protested-"Mishrani , aap bataiyeji, how is one supposed to know ki inverter on hai?"

Neha busied herself setting up extra beds in the living room, as Mishraji had just asked them to sleep upstairs, "till the flood lasts.", and his papa had gratefully accepted.

Shami quietly prayed to the Lord that may the flood last forever,  smiling guiltily.