Any one who happen to know me, very well knows that I am factually out of city. Some even claims that I am not from Chennai but from the border of adjoining state. Though I often disagree with them, in point of fact, it will take at least 2 hours to hit any hot spot of Chennai from my dwelling. This usual expedition may extend to 30 more minutes under the name of traffic. As my position stands like this, I am naturally destined to spend more time on roads each day.
I am often convinced that the sole reason behind my grumpy temperament at times, is because of this over-prolonged journey. So, to take the situation under control I decided to buy a two-wheeler hoping that it would at least ease the waiting time for buses and trains.
The next week, a brand new black ‘scooty pep plus’ was at the door step waiting for my touch. Soon, I was set to learn. Even though that two wheel object weighed twice than me, it was not strenuous to make it run. Except for the kickoff, it really cooperated me.
In the matter of days, it became my soul companion. All deserted and discarded roads around my abode welcomed our presence.
Then it happened. The obvious one – Accident.
It was the time, I departed the deserted streets and was attempting to blow across main roads. Most naturally I went and hit a young man who happened to cross the road with bicycle. I shuddered. Then shrieked. By the time, my so-called senses came for aid, the man was somehow toppled from his seat, landed the road, and was staring at me from the ground. Before I could realize what damage I caused, I was mobbed. People were checking whether all my body parts were intact. Of course, I was fine and fit. However, for some specific reason the actual victim was ignored and the crowd’s concentration were on mine. This, I guess, seemed to have frustrated him, for he vanished from the spot suddenly.
This incident refined me. I regretted for days, for my unintentional attempt to murder a fellow. Moreover, I didn’t ask for his forgiveness. I stopped touching the scooty. Days passed. Months passed. But I was resolved. Whenever, I happen to glimpse that brand new dark Scooty, my face would twitch in pain. Nevertheless, bearing in mind the safety of others, I refrained. Humanity, so to speak.
I was back to the usual mode of transport. One fine day, while I was walking swiftly to catch a bus, it again happened. The Accident. Seconds before, I was all there walking steadily, the next moment I was resting on the street and blinking at a dimmed helmet . This time I was the victim. The bloke who crashed me, lifted his helmet, looked at my eyes and said in a most dignified voice– ‘Sorry’. There was no regret in his eyes. He didn’t shudder. No shrieks. No panic. Nothing. Then he went off. His manners suggested that it is perfectly normal to bang on two or three people each day at Chennai roads.
If there was pain, I didn’t care for it at that moment. I looked at him like a demi god. This is the attitude, I told myself. This is how a victim should be handled. This is it. Not like me. The same day I dusted off the cobwebs from my two wheeler.