One of the first major events that left a mark on me was the Mumbai floods of July 2005. I still remember that day, 26 July, when the skies opened up and refused to stop. The city received over 900 mm of rain in just one day, and everything came to a halt. Streets turned into rivers, schools shut down, trains stopped midway, and yet people waded through the chaos to help each other. I remember watching neighbours share food, strangers offer shelter, and how, despite everything, Mumbai just did not give up. That was the first time I understood what resilience truly meant.
Then came 26/11, the terrorist attacks in Mumbai. I remember the fear, the silence, and how the news ran nonstop. My father was supposed to get down at the same station where the firing began, but he decided to exit a few stations earlier, thinking he might reach home quicker. That one small decision possibly saved his life. Even now, every time I think about it, I feel a mix of gratitude and disbelief. The city felt wounded, and yet in the days that followed, there was this quiet strength everywhere, as if people were reminding themselves that they had to move forward no matter what.
And then there was the COVID 19 pandemic, something none of us will ever forget. The world went still, and for the first time, we were forced to pause. My family went through those months without a working refrigerator, which sounds almost funny now, but it was far from it then. It was a strange mix of fear and stillness, days blending into each other, the silence of empty streets, and the constant worry about what was coming next. But in all that uncertainty, I think we all found new ways to adapt, to be grateful for what we had, and to see how strong we really were.
Living through these moments shaped the way I see the world. They taught me that life can change in an instant, that kindness matters most in chaos, and that sometimes strength is not loud, it is quiet, patient, and deeply human.
Ekaurbook 