Mission Impossible

  

No; I am not talking about the movie here but about an event that took place many years ago. It is about the journey that I undertook together with my family from Chennai (then known as Madras) to Thanjavur. A simple 7-hour journey took on the proportions of a nightmare that one could never have envisaged.

 

    I was on my well deserved annual trip to down south with my wife and two teenage daughters and stayed at my relative’s place in Chennai. From there we planned to board a day time train to Thanjavur where my parents lived. The day of our departure dawned on us with pouring rains and dismal skies and getting to the station in time became an ordeal on its own but we soon boarded the train and settled in for the journey ahead. The time was 10 am and were chatting and enjoying the rains along the route. But within three hours of the ride, the train lurched to a stop at an obscure station. We were told that due to heavy rains and the flooding of the tracks the train would not proceed further but would return to Chennai. There was chaos in the train station and many stories were told of the tracks ahead submerged in deep rain waters. Many trains were stranded there and many people preferred to return. But I was not in a mood to give up so tamely and so we decided to brave the odds and try and make it to Thanjavur the very same day.

 

    We got our refund for the remainder of our journey from the station ticket counter and walked down to the bus station. The bus station wore a deserted look and we were lucky to board the last bus that was exiting the bus stand. The bus was going to Kumbakonam (from where it takes another an hour to reach Thanjavur). By this time it was well past two in the afternoon. We were tired, wet and hungry. But despite this, we were elated to finally be on track again. The desire to reach Thanjavur had taken the form of a challenge now. As the bus lurched forward we made ourselves as comfortable as was possible. The events of the day started to take their toll on us and one by one the children fell asleep. Soon I followed suit and fell into an uneasy sleep amidst the rattling of the bus and the incessant rain outside.

 

    I didn’t know how long I would have slept but when I woke up it was dark. With a jolt, I realized that the bus was no longer moving. It was about 9.30 pm and very dark outside. And I could hear a lot of commotion outside. As I got down from the bus I was taken aback to see a long line of buses ahead standing on the road. I couldn't fathom what the reason for this pile-up was. But the mystery was soon cleared up as I reached the head of the line. I couldn’t quite believe the sight in front of me. I could only see flowing water ahead of me. There lay ahead of me a wide river. On a normal day, it may have been serene enough but tonight owing to the rain it was a whirling torrent of water. It looked as if they're an ocean or a large lake ahead of us. Someone said there is a bridge across it that has been inundated by the river overflowing, but I couldn't see the bridge. It seemed like we had reached an impasse. Going ahead was out of the question and spending the night in the remote area with no signs of inhabitation seemed inevitable. People from all age groups were seen sitting on either side of the road and wondering what fate had in store for them.

 

   Just then I heard voices raised in argument and saw a heated discussion going on. A young boy clad in driver's uniform, probably in his early twenties, seemed to be at the center of it all. ' I have been driving on this road for the past several years and know this bridge like the back of my hand. I am confident that I can easily cross’, he said. He added he has the contours of the bridge in his heart and mind and knew the depth of the river well. He suggested that he would drive an empty bus on the bridge all by himself and the other 20 or odd buses with passengers could follow the footprints of his bus. That way we could all cross the bridge safely". His voice rang with confidence and determination. The rest of the people looked doubtful but he could put to rest all their fears with his charisma and exuded an air of confidence; all the drivers fell for his idea and agreed that he would first drive his bus alone and the rest would follow suit. The nearly a thousand or so people got into their buses.

 

    We all boarded our buses and waited. As his bus approached the bridge, we all watched with bated breath. Watching the wheels of the bus disappear under the water I thought that the force of the river would surely push the bus of the bridge but somehow it continued on its way miraculously. Soon each of our buses started on the same path one by one. As our bus entered the water we could feel the current of the river like a live creature underneath shaking the bus. The span of that bridge was about a km. But as we inched our away across that night it seemed like an eternity before we touched solid ground again.

 

    The remaining leg of our journey was uneventful and we made it to Kumbakonam without any further incident. From there getting to Thanjavur was a child’s play. We reached Thanjavur at about 1 am in the night. We should have reached Thanjavur by 5 pm in normal times, but that journey took us 13 hours to reach our destination. Although this event took place several years ago even today I remember it as vividly as though it occurred yesterday. That we made it to Thanjavur that night with my family and another thousand people across the river safely seem like a miracle. But whether it was the young boy's driving skill or his charismatic confidence that saved the day or destiny, one can only guess...