It was going to be just another water world-like day when I stepped out at 11.30 am. Despite warnings from the autowallah who ferried me from Mulund to a waiting kaali-peeli on the Eastern Express Highway: “Madame, aage Ghatkopar mein bahut jaam hai,” yours truly decided to venture into a now-familiar routine when the heavens open.

It was an uneventful ride till Ramabai Nagar and we were beginning to imagine that all was well. Barely had we climbed Sion flyover, did the nightmare begin. It was 1 pm and the scenes ahead resulted in that sinking feeling. We crawled, we stalled; cars around us had called it a day, high-heeled folk could be spotted dodging mini potholes to avert further tragedy. By 2 pm, we had moved 100 metres. Our phone battery was down to 20%.