July 26,2006 Mumbai

It was 3 am when the phone rang. “We somehow managed to reach home, but Mahesh is missing. We do not know where he is”. The worried voice of Mahesh's colleague woke me up.

Any other day, and I would not have been so worried. But that was the 26^th of July, 2005 - the day that heavy rains, and a high tide conspired to set up one of the worst floods in the City of Mumbai.

Any other person, and I would not have been so worried. But Mahesh, a family friend. He was from a small village about 1000 kms away, who came to Mumbai just couple of days back, with his father, to join his new work. The teeming metropolis of Mumbai was a whole new world for him, and above all, he did not know the local languages of Marathi or Hindi.

I was still in office that night. We were asked to sleep over in the office rather than risk the floods outside. It was water everywhere, and there was nothing I could do – only pray, “God, please keep him safe somewhere”.

In the morning, the water receded, revealing the destruction everywhere – uprooted trees, upturned cars, silted roads and dead animals. Hundreds of lives were lost that day. Communication networks were all down, or jammed. Mumbai was badly hurt.

Later in the evening, as things calmed down, I managed to reach my apartment. The next day, I heard a knock on my door, and it was Mahesh's father – he had boarded the train to return to his village, but the train was stranded in the water. I told him about Mahesh. He was shocked and wanted to go out and search. I managed to convince him that Mahesh would be safe somewhere, and might be waiting for the phones to ring again.

The next day, the phones started ringing. Still no calls from Mahesh. We went to his office. The admin and HR staff helped us by enquiring the employees, and sent mass emails. They also helped us to get the missing person report registered in the police station and to put the ads in the newspapers.

We took a hotel room near the office. Our days began with a search of the hospitals and morgues in that area, and then, we walked around, showing the photo and asking people whether they had seen Mahesh. Every moment, we sincerely hoped that we would run into him at the next corner.

Four days passed by, and it was clear that something wrong has happened to him. As for us now, we just needed him to be alive.

Many a time, we got false alarms. Several people reported seeing him at some spots. But no luck for us. Once, in the market, Mahesh's father shouted, “There he is!” and started running. I ran behind him. He soon realized that he was wrong, and he broke down in the middle of the road.

Those days taught me more about life than all my living years. We met all kinds of people; we had to bribe many, while many voluntarily helped us. A taxi driver did not take money from us. Several homeless people joined us in our search. My faith in humanity was tested and restored.

Seven days passed by. Hope was slipping away, and exhaustion was catching up. I was concerned for Mahesh's father. His health was fading. It was only his hope and prayers that kept him on. Even that too started to fade – So far, he hid the news from his wife back home, but he could not take it any longer and decided to return home. He said, “If I deserve this son, God would give him back”. I could not console him. I could only pray to god to listen to his prayers.

We went back to the hotel, and got our bags. As we were starting to check out, the phone rang. It was a call from a doctor in a hospital 30 kms away. He happened to see the ad and recognized Mahesh among his trauma patients. Mahesh's father's knees, that endured the long walks over that week, gave away, and he slumped to the floor, unconscious. I could not control my emotions and cried - “Thank You God!”.