<p>‘Oh, I feel so bad for these people,” commented a resident of a south Chennai apartment complex on the association’s Whatsapp group after sending a picture of a woman walking in hip-level water with <br>her belongings.</p>.<p>The basement of this complex had come under water a few hours after the rains pounded the city, threatening the Audis and the Nanos alike. Many had to gulp down their hot bajjis and cold beer to quickly get into the act of protecting their precious four-wheelers.</p>.<p>A few metres outside, there were vehicles without wheels ferrying marooned Chennaities. Fisherfolk, who could not go for their catch amid Cyclone Michaung, saw opportunities inland, thanks to greedy real estate developers who have filled wetlands and quoted crores for their “luxury projects.”</p>.<p>Coming back to the group messages, most of them provided slices of information on essentials. But if one were to read in between lines, there was also a splash of dark humour. “There will be water supply for two hours for four days” or “Do not switch on the ACs as the transformers are vulnerable”, said the messages.</p>.<p>One resident wrote, “My maid has not been coming as her house is flooded and her children’s school books have been washed away. What can I do? I have sent her the auto fare and asked her to come as we are struggling here.”</p>.Hundreds still stranded, plants closed in flood-hit Chennai.<p>Oh, the magnitude of the problem of residents in such complexes is so much more potent than that of the domestic worker! After all, the only problem the worker has is that her house is under water, and her alcoholic husband beat her up the previous night as he was getting withdrawal symptoms because liquor shops, too, were shut down. And she has a son, who is part of an actor’s fan club and is worried that there is not much time to organise posters and milk for the first-day-first-show abhisekam to mark his thalaivar’s blockbuster!</p>.<p>Another one sent a story link about the pitiable situation in another area where water had invaded homes and ruined television sets and refrigerators.<br>After a few immediate responses of “So sad”, “Feel so bad”, etc., bang came a question: “Is the internet working?”</p>.<p>“NO,” rued many. “My service provider is down,” “Signal is spotty,” “pathetic connection,” “I cannot even watch my favourite show on television.”<br>“By the way, a new series has begun on Netflix,” said one. “Must watch.”</p>.<p>“I think I am going to order food and have wine during the weekend. After all, it has been such a long and harsh week.”</p>.<p>Really, so sad. They have all had such a harsh week, sitting at home, waiting for power and an internet connection. They could not take their fancy cars out, go for their jog, or wear their heavy silk sarees to the auditorium hosting the December music season.</p>.<p>After all, having a house under water and having to wait in line for milk and bread being doled out by the government as relief seem like such smaller problems. Theory of relativity?</p>
<p>‘Oh, I feel so bad for these people,” commented a resident of a south Chennai apartment complex on the association’s Whatsapp group after sending a picture of a woman walking in hip-level water with <br>her belongings.</p>.<p>The basement of this complex had come under water a few hours after the rains pounded the city, threatening the Audis and the Nanos alike. Many had to gulp down their hot bajjis and cold beer to quickly get into the act of protecting their precious four-wheelers.</p>.<p>A few metres outside, there were vehicles without wheels ferrying marooned Chennaities. Fisherfolk, who could not go for their catch amid Cyclone Michaung, saw opportunities inland, thanks to greedy real estate developers who have filled wetlands and quoted crores for their “luxury projects.”</p>.<p>Coming back to the group messages, most of them provided slices of information on essentials. But if one were to read in between lines, there was also a splash of dark humour. “There will be water supply for two hours for four days” or “Do not switch on the ACs as the transformers are vulnerable”, said the messages.</p>.<p>One resident wrote, “My maid has not been coming as her house is flooded and her children’s school books have been washed away. What can I do? I have sent her the auto fare and asked her to come as we are struggling here.”</p>.Hundreds still stranded, plants closed in flood-hit Chennai.<p>Oh, the magnitude of the problem of residents in such complexes is so much more potent than that of the domestic worker! After all, the only problem the worker has is that her house is under water, and her alcoholic husband beat her up the previous night as he was getting withdrawal symptoms because liquor shops, too, were shut down. And she has a son, who is part of an actor’s fan club and is worried that there is not much time to organise posters and milk for the first-day-first-show abhisekam to mark his thalaivar’s blockbuster!</p>.<p>Another one sent a story link about the pitiable situation in another area where water had invaded homes and ruined television sets and refrigerators.<br>After a few immediate responses of “So sad”, “Feel so bad”, etc., bang came a question: “Is the internet working?”</p>.<p>“NO,” rued many. “My service provider is down,” “Signal is spotty,” “pathetic connection,” “I cannot even watch my favourite show on television.”<br>“By the way, a new series has begun on Netflix,” said one. “Must watch.”</p>.<p>“I think I am going to order food and have wine during the weekend. After all, it has been such a long and harsh week.”</p>.<p>Really, so sad. They have all had such a harsh week, sitting at home, waiting for power and an internet connection. They could not take their fancy cars out, go for their jog, or wear their heavy silk sarees to the auditorium hosting the December music season.</p>.<p>After all, having a house under water and having to wait in line for milk and bread being doled out by the government as relief seem like such smaller problems. Theory of relativity?</p>