Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Here's how a night ride on a bike could go disastrous!

He could barely open his eyes. With all his might, he tried a last time…yet in vain. All that followed was a feeble twitch and it hurt. 

The instrument cluster around him beeped in asyncronous cacophony. I guess he could hear all that. Or perhaps, he simply slept. Or maybe, he was drowsy. Maybe he was unconscious that he was blissfully unaware of…

“Excuse Me”.  I moved away.

A dutiful nurse came up with some injections and loaded them into his vein through a canula which was already connected to two bottles. I could see a small withdrawal reaction on his hand while the nurse administered the medications. Ah, he’s not unconscious, I mused. Or maybe, he is…  withdrawal to pain is a primitive response and might be preserved in some cases. 

I was leaning on the side rails of the Fowler bed on which he motionlessly lay. I stood beside him and tried to decipher what was going on to him. He looked young, by my judgement I would place him around 20-22 years of age. He had a neatly trimmed beard that reminded me of my cousin. Though his hair was ruffled, I could see it was meticulously styled in a parlour. His clothes were smeared with blood and I could see mud sticking to it. From the logo on the shirt, I could recognise the brand, the one I used to love but never bought because they were too expensive.

“Excuse me, doctor”. I turned. 

“Can you please check the dose of Ertapenem for C7? His creat has increased to 3.2”

“Sure.” I moved to C7 to check the reports. Half an hour had passed. I finished my work and left for lunch. 

About 3’o clock, I was becoming restless. I suddenly remembered him. I left my work aside and left for the ICU. He was still there in the same position in which I last saw him. 

There was something about him that bothered me. He was young, looked well to do and very decent. He didn’t smell of alcohol either. It was quite unfortunate for him to be there, after a bad accident he had met last night. I felt sorry for him.

I moved closer. I leant near him, my arms crossed over his bed railing. What was going on in his head, I mused. Was he thinking of his pain? Was he thinking of his parents? Was he thinking of his friends? Or maybe, was he thinking of taking revenge on the one who hit him? Was he praying to become well soon? Was he just surrendering to fate? Giving up on himself in the face of excruciating pain?

A little tear glided down his cheek. I traced them above to find    eyelids slightly open revealing bloodshot eyes. Before I could even more a little, his lips slightly moved. I moved closer to listen…

“If only I had listened to my dad…” a creepy whisper followed.

On that deceptively peaceful night, Ram and his friends had planned to meet at the beach at midnight. There were to throw a surprise party at the beach to Ram’s friend. Ram had planned everything so meticulously. 

11:39 pm, he saw on his Samsung S6 Edge. He slid it down in his jean and reached for the bike keys. His father was awake. 

“ Please go slow ” he bemoaned. “ Don’t be too…

It was too late. Ram had left. The night was cool and calm. The skies were clear and the moon put a beautiful smile. He could feel the cool breeze blow on his face as he sped on his bike. He had always loved driving on his Yamaha. The roads were clear. Being a very small town, the people were in their houses by 10:30 and there was absolutely no traffic on the road. “Why should I not have some fun? Will a little speed kill me?” he laughed in his head as he turned the accelerator. 

“The roads are clear.” he thought.

That is exactly what the 37 year old factory worker thought. He was already very late and half drunk. The thought of managing his angry wife only made him raise the accelerator. 

At the junction near Ram theatre, the traffic lights usually go off at late nights and only the lonely orange would blink unceasingly. There, they collided. 

Luckily for the factory worker, he regained his balance and escaped with few injuries. But for Ram, luck was not his friend. He landed in the ICU.

I do not know what happened to him. 90% he would have died. Even if he lived, he would have to with the pain of severe disabilities. 

Remember: If you are travelling at night, especially within city limits, when the traffic is clear, be extra cautious. Take it from me, it is more dangerous than a crowded street. Don’t overspeed.

P.S. Share it with those whom you know. 




Saturday, September 5, 2015

A Tribute to my Teacher: The Man Who Would Never Stop Encouraging

It's hard to imagine how just a few words could have such an influence on someone's life so much. So much that you tend to go back and play those memories in your mind and remain eternally grateful to that mortal being. 

Those were hard times. Life seemed like one of Robert Frost's poem. The only difference: the road I had taken didn't seem to be the right one. Pitifully for me, there was no way of going back. Pulling myself forward was equally worse. Trying to remain content with what I had often never last long. Everyone and everything around me only reminded me of the harsh reality of how my choices would have been different if I had taken the other road.

Over the years, I guess, I have grown a little wiser (maybe not). I have learnt to go with the flow. I have learnt how life is about living and not, necessarily, having things. I have learnt to enjoy life in my own terms. I learnt to define happiness and experience it to the fullest. I had learnt to let go of expectations that would leave me drained. I had stopped being competitive. Because you lose your confidence in yourself and those around you. Often, such a person is considered to be mediocre. But I still had the fire dormant within. My life was no worse. But I was made to feel worser and worser, every passing day.

And then came this man. He had been my teacher. He had influenced my life earlier too. I had met him after, maybe, 8 years. On seeing me, he recognised me. On hearing my life’s decisions, he was genuinely happy and proud of me. He told be that I would be one of the best in my field.

Sometimes, God sends out his chosen to find worthy people who’ve lost their fire in a cold cold world. Magically they appear and rekindle that little warmth within you, long after you’d forgotten it. They gently rub and polish you and put back that brilliant sheen back on you.

He visited me again on my wedding. He came up with a gift. He looked at my wife and said “You are indeed lucky, He was one of the best of my students”

As that humble human being walked away, I felt awe fill up my heart. This man never ceases to encourage me.

May you live longer! 

May every teacher out there who imparts knowledge & wisdom, who encourages and builds up character, who lights the part and leads the weary ones be blessed. 

I wish you all a happy teachers’ day.