I am still shuddering on the inside, an aftermath of what I saw on my way to work.
I was driving lazily, just in time for a newly flagged off late morning shift. Then suddenly a traffic signal away from the expressway where I was desperately hoping it to turn green, something unnerving happened.
It happened so fast that I could not make out who broke the signal. What I saw left me dumbfounded, chill in my limbs. A mid size car screeched to halt but barely managed to do so. And when it did, the biker has already been rammed, his bike thrown meters away from where the car now stood. The biker first rolled over the car and then thrown by the car’s velocity to a place near his bike. The view was sickening. The biker seemed to collapse like mango pulp from the distance. I could not make out his injuries or the condition of his bike from where I witnessed this listless event. But one look at the car’s deformed bonnet was enough to take a guess.
Before I could think or react, few policemen standing near the signal rushed to the spot. The car driver jumped in and helped the policemen get the injured man in his car. The signal turned green. Police taking full control of the situation, I felt no reason to wait. I accelerated, very slow, numbness gripping me. Will the man live? How will his family know? When? The man looked to be in his thirties. Was he married? Does he have a child? Will they be able to see him again? Alive? Logical yet unanswerable tirade of doubts. Uncertainties that maybe forever remain so for me.
And then an eerie feeling settled in. What if it had happened to me? Unanticipatedly, I could see myself in the man’s place. Lying unconscious on the road. Blood oozing out of my head, ears, nose, chest and everywhere. Multiple limbs broken or damaged beyond repair. Being carried on a municipality stretcher on to an ambulance sans basic necessities. But of no help. I am cold dead, unable to sustain the impact. I could vividly see my mother wailing at her only child’s death. My father comforting her, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. I also saw Tanvi, crying, her face contorted with anger, frustration and helplessness. I could hear her asking agitatedly, “How many times did I tell you to drive safely, treat your Activa the way it is?
I shook myself from the concocted horror that I unwittingly indulged in. I wearily realized what had caused me to imagine such thing was the very fact that I have escaped a similar fate quite a number of times. Though I was twice unlucky. But not that bad.
The first incident took place on a bright, warm February morning in Kolkata. I was driving to work, my second day at the new place. My name was not on the company’s transportation roster yet; my Activa was there to suffice. I was skillfully though illegally overtaking a bus from its left flank. Almost successful, it was my turn to cut to right, now that the bus was behind me. Perfect but I left the dust accumulation on the side of the road out of my considerations. Physics played its due role. The relatively smaller Activa tyres skidded in the track transition. Before I could realize anything, I found myself facedown on the road. I heard a bus jam its’ brakes somewhere behind. I tried to get up even as bystanders and passer-bys rushed to me. I saw everything in slow motion. Frame by frame. Like Tom Hanks in Saving Private Ryan. I vaguely remember signaling a hand as if saying I am O.K. and do not need help. I put my body weight on my right arm, my stronger arm and tried to get up. But failed drastically, falling again on the warm pitch. This time no one paid any heed to my notions about my ability to get up myself. I was pulled to the pavement and made to sit there. Someone brought water and sprinkled over my face and head. People checked for blood but nothing major. A bruise here and a bruise there. Sitting pretty on the pavement, I saw everything vertically. A happy change from the horizontal effect of the prior seconds, lying on the road. I could see the bus still there, god knows waiting for what! Then I saw the bare meter that parted my Activa and the bus. I could have been easily hit by the bus, a mundane thing to happen on the streets of Kolkata. I thanked god and the bus driver! I also thanked the manufacturers of the helmet and clothes I was wearing. Both were undamaged from the impact, one that left me dizzy, reeling in pain and with a torn ligament.
The other accident is also crystal clear in my memory. And it is chronologically nearer. But I am sure to get beaten up by well-wishers if and when they read a blow-by-blow account. So, I will not divulge a single fact, not online about how near to death I went.
I was driving lazily, just in time for a newly flagged off late morning shift. Then suddenly a traffic signal away from the expressway where I was desperately hoping it to turn green, something unnerving happened.
It happened so fast that I could not make out who broke the signal. What I saw left me dumbfounded, chill in my limbs. A mid size car screeched to halt but barely managed to do so. And when it did, the biker has already been rammed, his bike thrown meters away from where the car now stood. The biker first rolled over the car and then thrown by the car’s velocity to a place near his bike. The view was sickening. The biker seemed to collapse like mango pulp from the distance. I could not make out his injuries or the condition of his bike from where I witnessed this listless event. But one look at the car’s deformed bonnet was enough to take a guess.
Before I could think or react, few policemen standing near the signal rushed to the spot. The car driver jumped in and helped the policemen get the injured man in his car. The signal turned green. Police taking full control of the situation, I felt no reason to wait. I accelerated, very slow, numbness gripping me. Will the man live? How will his family know? When? The man looked to be in his thirties. Was he married? Does he have a child? Will they be able to see him again? Alive? Logical yet unanswerable tirade of doubts. Uncertainties that maybe forever remain so for me.
And then an eerie feeling settled in. What if it had happened to me? Unanticipatedly, I could see myself in the man’s place. Lying unconscious on the road. Blood oozing out of my head, ears, nose, chest and everywhere. Multiple limbs broken or damaged beyond repair. Being carried on a municipality stretcher on to an ambulance sans basic necessities. But of no help. I am cold dead, unable to sustain the impact. I could vividly see my mother wailing at her only child’s death. My father comforting her, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. I also saw Tanvi, crying, her face contorted with anger, frustration and helplessness. I could hear her asking agitatedly, “How many times did I tell you to drive safely, treat your Activa the way it is?
I shook myself from the concocted horror that I unwittingly indulged in. I wearily realized what had caused me to imagine such thing was the very fact that I have escaped a similar fate quite a number of times. Though I was twice unlucky. But not that bad.
The first incident took place on a bright, warm February morning in Kolkata. I was driving to work, my second day at the new place. My name was not on the company’s transportation roster yet; my Activa was there to suffice. I was skillfully though illegally overtaking a bus from its left flank. Almost successful, it was my turn to cut to right, now that the bus was behind me. Perfect but I left the dust accumulation on the side of the road out of my considerations. Physics played its due role. The relatively smaller Activa tyres skidded in the track transition. Before I could realize anything, I found myself facedown on the road. I heard a bus jam its’ brakes somewhere behind. I tried to get up even as bystanders and passer-bys rushed to me. I saw everything in slow motion. Frame by frame. Like Tom Hanks in Saving Private Ryan. I vaguely remember signaling a hand as if saying I am O.K. and do not need help. I put my body weight on my right arm, my stronger arm and tried to get up. But failed drastically, falling again on the warm pitch. This time no one paid any heed to my notions about my ability to get up myself. I was pulled to the pavement and made to sit there. Someone brought water and sprinkled over my face and head. People checked for blood but nothing major. A bruise here and a bruise there. Sitting pretty on the pavement, I saw everything vertically. A happy change from the horizontal effect of the prior seconds, lying on the road. I could see the bus still there, god knows waiting for what! Then I saw the bare meter that parted my Activa and the bus. I could have been easily hit by the bus, a mundane thing to happen on the streets of Kolkata. I thanked god and the bus driver! I also thanked the manufacturers of the helmet and clothes I was wearing. Both were undamaged from the impact, one that left me dizzy, reeling in pain and with a torn ligament.
The other accident is also crystal clear in my memory. And it is chronologically nearer. But I am sure to get beaten up by well-wishers if and when they read a blow-by-blow account. So, I will not divulge a single fact, not online about how near to death I went.
Meanwhile, the images of the afternoon accident are still agonizingly fresh in recall, the screech of the car still resonating in the subconscious. I have solemnly convinced myself on the expressway to drive as safe & slow as possible, stop taking risks, maneuvering, overtaking illegitimately, blah, blah, blah! Let me see how far I go with these resolutions or without them.
1 comment:
i think those who say drive carefuly...are quite rite.....ur fear will always help u to be carefull.....its a fact nature makes us afraid so that we avoid what we dnt like to be happening to us.....anyway...all is part of life....and fate...we cant change anythng....
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