It was 26 July 2005 Mumbai floods day! They had decided not to go to office that day. Instead, they planned to watch a matinee show and spend a few quiet hours together. A corner seat in the balcony during a morning show was nothing less than a luxury for young couples in a city like Mumbai, where privacy was almost impossible to find. She lived in Dombivli, and he lived in Vasai. Both were residents of suburbs located at opposite ends of the city. Their journey had started at the office — a casual meeting that slowly turned into familiarity, familiarity into friendship, and friendship into something much deeper. Their conversations became longer, their coffee breaks became more frequent, lunches together became a habit, and evening walks at Marine Drive became their favourite escape from the rush of everyday life.
It was during one such evening at Marine Drive that she held his hand for the first time. He was not surprised. Somewhere, he had been waiting for that moment. Yet he had never gathered the courage to take the first step. What if he had misunderstood her feelings? He was not ready to get slapped in front of a crowd at Marine Drive because of his wrong assumption. But she took the initiative. They sat quietly on the promenade, with her head resting on his shoulder. For the first time in a long time, she felt a strange sense of security. Her hair moved gently with the sea breeze, dancing like the edge of her dupatta. His eyes struggled to stay away from her face. She turned towards him, and in her eyes he saw everything she had kept hidden for so long. Without saying a word, he held her face gently in both his hands. She closed her eyes. The sun was slowly disappearing into the sea, and in his hands, it felt as if a full moon had risen.
That day changed their lives forever. Slowly, the office became a place they looked forward to more than their own homes. Their evenings at Marine Drive stretched longer, and their train timings changed because they did not want those moments to end. Life felt beautiful. She did not hesitate to tell her family about him. He was a South Indian, and she was Marathi, but her family accepted him because they knew he was a good person. His parents lived in a small village in Tamil Nadu, and they had no reason to object. He was anyway not planning to return to his village. Their personalities completed each other in many ways. Her playful nature, attractive personality and fearless attitude matched perfectly with his gentle nature, slightly reserved personality, sense of humour and intelligence. She loved his dark yet charming appearance. Whenever he hugged her, she could feel the strength in his arms, and she would surrender herself completely to that feeling of love and belonging.
A few months later, under the excuse of an office picnic, they spent a Sunday at his friend’s bungalow in Lonavala. That day brought them even closer. Their relationship had crossed the boundaries of friendship and felt like that of a husband and wife. A few days later, she realised that a new life was growing inside her. When she told him, he did not hesitate even for a moment. He decided that they would get married. It was Tuesday, and their wedding was planned for the coming Sunday at a temple. Both of them were happy, and perhaps that was why they had come for the matinee show that day. Sitting there with their hands locked together, they remembered all those mornings when they had come to the same theatre and stolen moments away from the world. But today, something felt different. There was a strange peace in simply holding hands. The movie ended, and they slowly walked out of the theatre.
Outside, the world looked completely different. It was only two in the afternoon, but darkness had covered the city as if evening had arrived early. Heavy rain was pouring relentlessly. Taxi drivers had disappeared from the roads, and the only thing they had with them was a single umbrella between them. Holding on to each other under that small shelter, they somehow walked through knee-deep water and reached the bus stop. They waited for nearly an hour, but there was no sign of a bus. When one finally arrived, it was so crowded that not just they, even a tiny bird would have found it impossible to enter.
The rain and wind became stronger with every passing minute. The only umbrella that had given them the confidence that they were protected finally broke under the force of nature. The water level kept rising, and the current became dangerous. Soon, things floating in the floodwater were no longer just garbage. They saw dead animals, small puppies, kittens and branches of trees being carried away by the rushing water. She called home. Her father, who was watching television, informed them about the terrible flood situation in Mumbai. By then, it was already five in the evening. Neither hunger nor thirst mattered anymore. Looking at thousands of people walking through the flooded streets, they decided that the only option was to reach the railway station on foot. Holding hands tightly, they started walking through the storm.
The distance from the theatre to the railway station was considerable, but there was no other choice. They continued walking through the floodwater, slowly fighting against the force of nature. The water had now risen above her stomach and reached beyond his waist. Somewhere along the way, her slippers were swept away by the current, and her purse disappeared into the muddy water. She held tightly onto his arm, depending completely on him with every step. Darkness had taken over the city. With furniture and other objects being carried away by the flood, every moment brought the fear of getting injured. The crowd around them had started thinning, and for a while, it felt as if they were standing in the middle of an endless sea rather than a city road.
In two hours, they had barely managed to cover two kilometres. The familiar buildings around them looked frightening and unfamiliar in the darkness. Suddenly, something heavy came rushing through the water from behind and crashed into her. It was the body of a buffalo carried away by the flood. She screamed in fear and pain as one of its horns struck her arm. But her scream disappeared into the roar of the rain and the sound of the overflowing water. He immediately tore out his handkerchief and tied it around her wound. They had to reach the station quickly. Leaving the main road behind, he decided to take a shortcut through a narrow lane. Holding each other for support, they turned into the dark alley.
The lane was already covered in darkness, and with the electricity supply shut down, it looked terrifying. Since the passage was narrow, the water level was rising rapidly, and the force of the current was much stronger. The water had now reached above her chest, almost touching her neck. The only comfort was that she knew how to swim. Suddenly, something else came floating towards them and hit them in the darkness. It was the body of a woman.
For a moment, she froze. Fear took over her completely, and she hugged him tightly. Without wasting time, he pushed the body aside with his hand. The powerful current happily carried it away into the darkness. They continued moving forward, taking one difficult step at a time. Her legs had started cramping, and the rising water made it almost impossible for her to walk. She held onto his shoulder and was almost floating along with him.
The water rushing through the narrow lane suddenly became more violent. It was no longer just floodwater; it had turned into a terrifying force of nature. In front of them was complete darkness. The rain hit their bodies like blows, and the flood had taken a monstrous form. Inside that narrow lane, there were only the two of them and the lifeless bodies floating around them.
Moving ahead became impossible. He looked around desperately and said that they needed to find some support. At that moment, a small wooden cupboard came floating towards them. He caught hold of it. But when both of them held onto it, it started sinking under their combined weight.
He looked at her and said,
“Take this. Go till that electric pole and hold onto it.”
She hesitated for a moment, but then started moving towards the pole. He waited there, hoping that something else would come floating by which he could use as support. Slowly, fighting against the current, she reached the pole.
By then, he was struggling in water up to his neck. He was barely able to keep himself above the surface. Suddenly, she saw a huge wardrobe being carried by the floodwater, moving rapidly towards him.
She screamed.
“Raghu… Raghu…!”
He also noticed the wardrobe coming towards him. He tried to move aside, but while lifting his leg against the strong current, he lost his balance. The flood grabbed him and started dragging him away.
She held onto a piece of wood that had come near her and screamed helplessly.
“Raghu… Raghu…!”
But Raghu was slowly disappearing into the violent floodwater. Before he could save himself, the wardrobe crashed into his head. He lost consciousness instantly. Right in front of her eyes, the man she loved more than her own life was swallowed by the flood and carried away.
Something inside her broke at that moment. She felt a sharp pain in her stomach, a pain that was physical yet nothing compared to the pain tearing apart her mind. A horrifying realisation struck her.
She knew how to swim.
Raghu did not.
If she had taken the cupboard that Raghu had given her for support, allowed him to move ahead, and then simply swum behind him, maybe…
Maybe he would have survived.
That single thought became a spark on the explosive mountain of grief inside her. The guilt of losing him because of her own decision shattered something deep within her. Her mind could not bear the weight of that regret.
The next day, the rescue team found her still clinging to that electric pole.
Since that day, she had never truly returned to normal life.
…Twelve years had passed since that incident.
Every year, on 26 July, the same nightmare came alive again. She would suddenly become violent, calling out only one name.
“Raghu… Raghu…”
Holding a pillow in her hands as if she was trying to save him, she would scream, cry and fight with invisible forces around her. For twelve years, she had remained almost lifeless inside that asylum, staring blankly at the ceiling, waiting for one particular day of the year.
And every year, on 26 July, the doctors had no option but to give her an injection. She would become quiet again, lost in her own world, until the next 26 July arrived.
But what happened to her on that day?
Why did she call out only his name?
Because Raghu was not just the man she loved. He was the father of the life that had disappeared from her womb that night. He was the man who had promised to spend his entire life with her.
The man whose memory had become both her greatest love and her greatest punishment.
That night became a permanent wound in her life. A wound that never healed, a memory that never faded. Every year, when 26 July arrived, the world around her disappeared and she was transported back to that dark lane where the rain was merciless, the water was uncontrollable, and the man she loved was slipping away from her eyes.
For the rest of the world, it was a date on the calendar. For her, it was the day when she lost everything — her love, her unborn child, and the life she had imagined with Raghu.
The doctors at the asylum knew that there was no medicine for the pain buried inside her mind. They could only control the storm when it arrived. Every year, on that same day, she would relive those terrifying moments. She would cry out his name, stretch her hands forward as if trying to reach him, and fight against an invisible flood that existed only in her memories.
“Raghu… Raghu…”
The same name would escape her lips again and again.
The same name of the man who had once filled her life with love.
The same name of the man whom she could not save.
The same name that had become her punishment.
Twelve years had passed, but for her, that night had never ended.
Somewhere deep inside her broken mind, she was still standing in that flooded lane, holding onto the electric pole, watching Raghu disappear into the darkness. Every year, she tried to change the ending. Every year, she tried to save him. Every year, she failed.
And perhaps that was the cruelest punishment of all — not losing someone you love, but living every single day with the belief that you could have saved them.
26 July 2005 was not just a day of destruction for Mumbai. It was a day that tested human courage, compassion and the strength to survive. Thousands lost their lives, thousands lost their homes, and countless others carried wounds that could never be seen.
But among those thousands of stories was also the story of a woman who survived the flood, only to spend the rest of her life drowning in memories.
This story is dedicated to all Mumbaikars who lost their lives on 26 July 2005, and to those who stood together during one of the darkest days the city had ever witnessed.
© Mandar Jog