Mumbai: Every time a crisis hits Mumbai, people come out on to the streets to help, others open up their homes and hearts to those trapped, and everyone talks about the fabled 'Mumbai spirit.' Sadly, it also brings out the worst in some of us, and you can see both sides within metres or minutes of each other. Rutuja Vadhavkar (40), an information technology consultant, saw this first hand.
On Tuesday, on her way home to Bandra from an appointment in Powai, Ms. Vadhavkar had been stuck in her car on the Santa Cruz Chembur Link Road for nearly six hours with neither food nor water.
There were no policemen in sight to guide them out, but by then, there were WhatsApp messages beeping helpline numbers to all the world. She tried calling the police helpline, 100, but there was no response.
As her driver inched the car towards Kurla, she saw people distributing water bottles and biscuits, and sent a silent blessing their way. Then, near the Bandra-Kurla Complex exit, things got grim.
A bunch of men surrounded the car. “There were seven or eight of them, and they were carrying steel rods. They let the car ahead of ours go, and stopped us. They kept peeping in through the partially-open driver's window. They were telling each other, ' Iski gaadi thoko ,' ' Ek maaro isko ' [hit the car].” They tried to convince the driver to go beneath the bridge, where she could see the road was flooded. “I could see a bus driver hesitant to move, as his tyre was submerged, and they were asking us to go there.” One of them, in English, advised her to get down from the car and walk.
Ms. Vadhavkar had the presence of mind to keep the car doors locked, and told the driver to pretend they were following their directions but to get out of there fast. “When we reversed, they began to follow us, shouting, ' Shaane ban rahe ho, ruko, ruko . [You're acting smart, stop].” There were no police in sight. She didn't want to risk taking photos, fearing that would provoke them into damaging her car, or worse, attacking her. “They blocked us nearly three times. We finally got out of there past midnight.”
Meanwhile, her husband, who was panicking at home, frantically tried the 1916 helpline, but drew a blank. “I was asked to hold on, and the line was later cut. The set up was tardy. No one has a clear idea of what is required for such an exercise. Why should a control room function only on days of a disaster like this? It should work smoothly throughout the year,” he says.
In desperation, he contacted a helicopter service, but they couldn't help either. “I was on edge till 3 a.m., when she finally got home.”
She tweeted the Chief Minister and the Mumbai police, but got no response. ( The Hindu asked a Mumbai police spokesperson for comment; there was no response at the time of going to print.)
“I have often worked late, driven home late, and never had trouble,” she says, but Tuesday's incident has shaken her. “I am someone who stands up and fights. But yesterday, for the first time ever, I was scared.”
