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Trapped in a watery hell: What it was like to be stuck during the Chennai floods

At first, from what I understood, the entire city had a power shutdown and several areas were waterlogged.

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The flooded ground floor in the hospital
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Monday, November 30

I woke up expecting to go to work as usual, despite the rain. But by 9 am, things had changed. I had to rush my 72-year-old mother to the hospital as she was unable to move and was slurring. Worried that she had suffered a stroke, I got her admitted immediately at the Global Hospital (Perumbakkam) for an MRI and CT scan. Getting all the required tests took up the whole day, after which I spent a sleepless night at the hospital.  

Tuesday, December 1

Mom was weak and unable to eat and I was anxiously waiting to meet the doctors. It was raining heavily by 9 am and I was informed that the attending physician was running a little late. By noon, I found out that though my mother’s tests were fine, she had extreme weakness and she could be discharged only on Wednesday. 

At around 3 pm, my cousin called to inform that I should leave the hospital ASAP as the Perumbakkam lake near the hospital had suffered a breach. I assured him that things seemed fine, so I would manage. However, by 6 pm there was two feet of water at the entrance of the ground floor and the hospital staff had placed sand bags to prevent it from coming inside. Meanwhile, people on Twitter were reporting that heavy rains had caused severe waterlogging in several areas in the city and that people who were stranded were being accommodated in other people’s homes, schools, marriage halls etc.  

When I went into the cafeteria for dinner at 9 pm, I realised that the situation could soon turn serious as food was running out. There were some 150 patients and those attending to them, stuck in the hospital because of the rain and they all moved to sit in the lobby on the first floor to wait out the night. 

At 12:30 am, the power suddenly went out and I heard the nurses running around in the darkness. I stepped out to see what was happening and one of the nurses informed me that water had inundated the generator room causing a shutdown. We were now on limited power only for ICU and critical patients. She also told me that there was a lot of water on the ground floor. From what I could see, medical equipment had been moved up to the first floor and were lined up in the corridors. Now, I was worried, but I still didn’t think that there was a need for panic. And who would I call in the middle of the night anyway? From what I understood, the entire city had a power shutdown. So I headed back to the room to get some shut-eye.

Wednesday, December 2

I woke up at 7 am to find out that there was still no electricity and now, no water as well. Luckily, the hospital staff had filled a bucket of water in each room during the night. I immediately ran to check the situation on the ground floor. What I saw startled me. The entire ground floor was filled with dark, murky water. The Sai Baba idol in the lobby, which is a source of resilience and strength during testing times when loved ones are ill, was submerged in four to five feet of water. 

The hospital had created a makeshift kitchen to provide hot food and beverages to patients as they were the priority. But the 100-odd outpatients and their families had also been stuck there for nearly 24 hours. While the hospital may have been able to provide them some facilities like drinking water, how much longer could everyone be sustained in this water deluge with no power and no access to fresh supplies? 
People struggled to make calls as the telecom networks were erratic. My mobile had about 40% power and I wasn’t sure how long that would last. 

When I finally managed to ask one of the doctors what was happening, he said, “There’s some eight feet of water outside the hospital and the only way out is on boats. We have spoken to the relevant people, including the Chief Minister’s office, the Army and others. They have assured us that help is on the way.”  It was at this point that I officially panicked - we had no water, no power, no telecom network and no damn way of getting out of the hospital! And my car was sitting in the parking lot in five feet of water.

Twitter had come to my rescue earlier, so I quickly managed to send out a couple of tweets asking for help, as only emergency services had power in the hospital and people needed to be rescued immediately. The bad network was causing more panic. But I managed to call Shreesha Reddy of India Today TV and Dhanya Rajendran of The News Minute, both of whom made calls to various people for help. Meanwhile, the hospital staff was working hard to ensure that patients were fine.  

By 10:45 am, one of the doctors told me there were only three more hours of power left for patients on ventilator. But the nurses said, “Madam, even if we have to pump their hearts manually, we will do it – we will not allow a single patient to die, don’t worry.”

There was no help in sight for nearly three hours now and I had been on my feet the whole time, walking around to try and get proper phone network. It was then that a call came through from the Tamil Nadu Health Minister DR C Vijaya Baskar who told me that the fire service personnel and even the army had been informed about helping us. I appraised him about the drastic circumstances and that it had already been nearly 12 hours without electricity.

Meanwhile, India Today TV put me live on air to explain what was happening at Global hospitals in Perumbakkam. I did so and continued to wait, hoping to see a boat come in or a helicopter land. But more than an hour passed and there was still was no sign of any help, though the rains had stopped. 

It was around 12:30 pm that we finally saw a fishing boat come in, evoking spontaneous claps from the almost 50 people standing on the first floor. People started to smile a little and the anxiety reduced, but then came the scramble as to who would leave first. Everyone wanted to get on that boat, but it could accommodate only 12 at a time. Meanwhile, a second boat came in. One of them went in the direction of Shollinganallur and the other to Medavakkam. The administrative staff quickly swung into action before chaos ensued and created a list of dialysis patients and outpatients who had been stranded. They sent them out first and then patients who had got discharged were taken to safety.

It was more than two and a half hours later that I could finally get on the boat with my mom. Too weak to walk, she was in a wheelchair and we would have to wade through 3-5 feet of water to get on the boat. But the staff assured me they would figure it out and four men just lifted the wheelchair and carried her over the water and set her on the boat. I was so thankful to them. On the other hand, I was really scared to wade through the muddy water, being petrified of snakes and scorpions. The water was ice cold and waist high and I held the hand of the doctor leading the way, who encouraged me ahead till I reached the boat. Around me in the boat, I saw an old couple, a two-year-old who had undergone surgery on his hand crying and being comforted by his parents, and some other patients.

But as soon as we got onto the fishing boat, it started to rain again and the fire and rescue personnel told me that we had to wait out the rain. I was exhausted as I had been on my feet for most of the last 24 hours. Nature seemed to be testing everyone beyond their limits. We quickly grabbed umbrellas, plastic bags, towels and anything else we could find, to cover our heads. All of us on the boat - except my mother - were cold and wet and some of us were shivering. No one had eaten anything that day and it was after 2 pm. When the rain slowed a little, I urged the boat guys to move out and we did. We were instructed to sit tight in the boat and not make sudden movements as the boat could be thrown off balance. 

As soon as we moved out from the hospital portico, the rain and cold wind hit us hard. I was holding the umbrella over my mother's head, but the rain was ruthless. We were all soaking wet and had to travel nearly 2.5 km on that boat to get to safety. The men navigated the waters carefully so as not to hit electrical posts, open wires, hard objects or anything else that could fatally injure any of us or leave us stranded in the water. The water depth had to be constantly monitored by men navigating the bot. We saw an ambulance, a water lorry and numerous vehicles sitting in eight feet of water as we moved out of the hospital gates. The area around the hospital is marshy and through the rain and cold we crossed the water body slowly. We actually rode on roads that were inundated in more than five feet of water and saw many homes submerged. There was not a single soul in sight and the areas were uncannily eery and deserted. That 15-minute ride was perhaps one of the longest ones in my life. I kept asking every few minutes when we would reach safety.

Finally at 3 pm, we reached land, after a struggle of over seven hours. But our ordeal wasn't over yet.  As soon as got to the Shollinganallur signal, the men quickly helped us out as they needed to go back and fetch more patients. We had been told at the hospital that there were two ambulances and a jeep there, that would help us reach home. The fire and rescue personnel put my mom in the ambulance along with another family. But the ambulance driver flatly refused to drop us home, stating that the vehicle was only to take patients to another hospital. The other family managed to find an auto in the rain, but with my mom unable to walk, I didn’t know what to do. I tried reasoning with the ambulance drivers, but to no avail. 

I had to leave my mom in the ambulance, to try and make calls, but didn't have a proper signal and realised I was on my own. After 10 minutes, I headed out to find an auto and saw a government vehicle parked nearby. When I spoke to the gentleman inside, explaining my situation, he replied, “Why don’t you speak to the Health Minister? He is right here.” 

I have never written much on politics nor do I know the protocol of what one can say or not say to politicians, but in this situation I needed to get my mom home and didn’t care how. Seeing the Health Minister near the boat in two feet of water, I waded there, introduced myself and asked for help. I may have possibly even said so several times in front of TV cameras that seemed to be interviewing him, but I just didn’t care. But the Minister happened to remember having spoken to me on the phone earlier in the morning. Immediately, another man came forward, arranged for a Tata Sumo and had my mom transferred into the vehicle. 

As soon as I got into the vehicle (which I then knew was the Health Minister’s) Vijaya Baskar and his First Secretary Radhakrishnan came and shook my hand, assuring me, “Don’t worry. We’ll take care. You’ll reach home safely.” I told Radhakrishnan that it was very important that the remaining patients in the hospital got help. He told me they had arranged for a 15 KVA generator, but couldn't transport it in the boat. "We're now getting smaller generators that can be taken to the hospital. Don’t worry, we will take care of everyone in the hospital,” he said.

I left in the Health Minister’s car, with a fire and rescue person and the driver, and finally reached home at about 4 pm. The fire and rescue person carried my mom up the flight of stars and gently sat her in the sofa in the living room. My mother and I hadn’t had even a drop of water for over nine hours by then. But we were both finally safe and back home and I have never been so relieved in my life. Besides, when I saw the newspapers over the next few days or so, I realised that the Health Minister and Radhakrishnan had kept their word – they had helped the hospital and ensured that not one patient's life was lost there. And I was truly grateful to them for that.

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