The clock struck late, a hush upon the night, When sudden sounds disturbed my slumber's light. My senses stirred, a whisper in the air, And feet found floor, a cautious, waking stare.
The room, a pool, a shimmering, dark gleam, My scattered things, adrift within a dream. Each cherished item, bobbing in the tide, A watery world, where stillness couldn't hide.
A distant roar, a murmur from the street, My door I pushed, my weary eyes to meet A scene of chaos, water everywhere, The ground floor drowned, beyond all earthly care.
The city streets, a rushing, muddy flow, Where vehicles submerged, in watery woe. No passage clear, no easy way to roam, Bengaluru's heart, submerged within its home.
My friend's dear name, a lifeline I did seize, Through phone's soft hum, I spoke of troubled ease. He heard my plight, with swift and loyal grace, And braved the flood, to reach this watery space.
Through currents strong, he struggled to appear, A helping hand, to banish rising fear. He waded in, with purpose in his stride, To lift and save, where watery depths did hide.
Each precious thing, we lifted, piece by piece, From soaking depths, to find a moment's peace. For every downpour, in this low-lying land, The rains would surge, a powerful, watery hand.
The news declared, a day of rest and hold, No office calls, a story to be told. The city paused, beneath the heavy sky, As nature's force, in watery might did lie.
November's flood, a memory that stays, Of midnight's shock, and friendship's guiding ways. A flooded home, a day of watery plight, But kindness shone, a beacon in the night
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