The adventure continues. Hadn't intended to go home, but had to check out if my bike has drowned this year as well. God bless my watchman; he has truly justified the hafta he collects every month with this one simple brilliant act of genius. there was a three-foor-high waterline mark on the walls... and every bike in the compound had a plastic bag stuffed into the exhaust. took it out, started her up, and it's sweet purring. God bless you, you quasi-criminal guardian.
My roommate had fled the floods to Navy Nagar (The naval area is currently the driest place in Bombay.) I was able to completely ignore football after several weeks and watch Cruel Intentions casting-to-credits with no interruptions, happily munching on a fried pepper chicken that I had cooked since no restaurant was open for business.
The morning brought an ominous gray look and high winds, and I decided not to take any more chances with a new bike. The office is always... if not dry, then at least not flooded. packed up, took the bike, and hit the road. The worst bit was right outside the house; around a foot of water, and after that it's clear all the way.
Which was another problem. Take a 6-lane highway, with minimal traffic. Throw in a visor untreated for surface tension so rain sticks making blobs exactly the shape and size of traffic in front of you. Add a new 150 cc Pulsar. Season with pouring rain and a 26 kmph wind coming from the South-East. Top up with me coming from the North-West at 60 kmph... you get a recipe for disaster. Clear road, so all traffic that is there is racing like crazy, including me because I think there's a genetic flaw in my head that makes me do stupid stuff. Sheets of water planing up. Potholes like lunar craters, only less navigable.
Raindrops were slicing into my eyes at 90 kmph. Icy cold little needlepoints on my face and hands. A humming engine. Mmmm. This was fun. Came into office dripping like Noah. Changed and now I'm sweating because they've switched off the AC. Life isn't being fair.