Another dent…in five days!
This is second episode of my ACCIDENT series and that too in just five days. However, this post is not written in the bleeding hand. Well, this time no heavy bulk Amby could also save my 5'6" frame from being dented.
A dinner with a former colleague-cum-friend and the subsequent joy ride back home was all that sound good for the pleasant weather evening. Except the climax turned sour. Since my fate is dodging me so often nowadays, am nothing but bewildered at the close shaves am having with HELL J. Par Lagta hai abhi picture baaki hai mere dost!
At the very onset of the ride I cracked the joke with the friend that we must not break the conversation for the simple fact that he is aware am still sitting behind him intact and not "gone with the wind". He too nodded in approval and even narrated me an incident of a friend whose lady companion was on the road and the man was riding high unaware of her being thrown behind.
All going perfect, the laughter-filled conversation, the weather and the speed of the bike. But apni Dilli roads had something else for me in the store. The post-monsoon potholes and cracks could not bear my good sense of humour as at one intersection I had chuckled to the friend: "The short bumpy ride was the missing element of the evening". And he too responded in same measure.
So it was decided to punish me for my dark humour and the transmission must have been active immediately down under the mettled black surface. A kilometer distance from my home, a deep pothole and the last minute effort by the ‘dost’ to skirt it threw me on the road, virtually on my knees. Some screeching halts of other vehicles including a tempo truck an arm’s length away, all happened in a flash and in another flash I was up on my feet, trying to put up a calm face as nothing had happened. I knew my knees were bleeding and my left elbow numb, but the fear on my friend's face pushed all that back. I had to convince him that I was all fine and the situation was under control. In fact, I was thanking all those coming for help with a grin that I was fine and the thick folds of my sari had saved me eventually. Phew!!
The friend was unrelenting and wanted me to see a doc first. Again arguments and counter arguments at the roadside. After much persuasion and pretensions, he somewhat gave in to drop me home and see that I get first aid. But this woman of many shades couldn't even take that call. Telling folks back home meant more of hulla gulla. And it has been a long time since I had stopped sharing grief or pain with my people (To be honest, I had always kept the wounds hidden and still do that). So I excused myself at the main gate of the colony and wished the dear friend goodnight in my last unfailing attempt to pose all well when I couldn't even stand.
So while washing the wounds and bruises and applying ointment at them I messaged the dear friend who was completely smitten by guilt of not safeguarding me that it was his good luck that saved me once again from occupying a berth in Hell. The night went in writhing pain and turns but somehow the smile at a corner of my lower lip could not die in darkness. At 28, am still falling!! When will I learn God??