Rise and fall of the tiny speck
Posted by sayali611
I tried blinking again. I could see the sky and the trees – I was conscious. My head still hurt in spite of the helmet and I felt bit dizzy. I could hardly move. But being conscious was a relief.
I was riding my scooter merrily a minute ago. Oil spill on the road, a sharp turn and suddenly-turned-disobedient brakes sent me and my scooty dragging and sweeping across the road for a few meters. For those few seconds, I tried as much as I could. Nothing worked. I barely had a sense of what had happened, leave alone trying to mitigate the fall. I and my scooter did a deadly tango, scratching and spinning our way across the road waiting desperately for the music to end. My head hit the road when the incomprehensible motion ended, my left foot squashed below my scooty and I lay there sprawled on the road. I blinked again, unsure of how hurt I was, staring at the bright blue sky.
The minute I took relief in being conscious, I saw a car coming to a grinding halt just a couple of feet from me. A few second’s delay and they would have found me smashed like a ripe watermelon underneath that car. I missed more than a couple heartbeats then and there.
I looked up at the sky again and said silent ‘thank-you’s. I wasn’t hurt. I was fine. The sky seemed all too beautiful suddenly. Clear, azure, limitless. I could lay there just drinking its beauty.
A truck-driver had parked his truck and was helping me up. He lifted my scooty and parked it to the side. I gathered myself and limped my way to the side. No profuse bleeding, no broken bones. I saw a small stream flowing next to the road, flowing so beautifully. It was pretty. Life was pretty. I was fine. I would take time to appreciate the stream, the sky and all pretty things more often, I pledged. I was having my own little moment of revelation, a probable life altering experience.
“Are you hurt?” the truck-driver asked me calmly as he handed me the keys. “No”, I said looking for signs of any major injury. He started walking away stoically. “Thank you”, I had to yell for he had already walked half way to his truck.
It was only after he left so calmly that the real revelation dawned. He hadn’t helped me; he did what he did out of some kind of habit. As a man who spends most of his time on the road, he had probably seen many wounded beings before. And the first look must have given away details of how hurt I was. He walked over, did what he should have done and got back to his work. My moment of revelation was reduced to ‘everyday thing’ by him. He turned the engine on and left.
I had heard ‘one tiny speck in the big vast universe’ before. But ‘one more found sprawled on the road’ was what it took to grasp the concept. There I was, admiring the sky and waters where the stoic truck-driver had his eyes on the road, in every sense of the phrase.
I went home to find a crack in my helmet, torn jeans, bruises all over my leg and elbow and a twisted ankle that wouldn’t be of any good for a week. But the truck-driver’s stoic face acted as a bitter medicine to all of it. Wounds of ‘one more found sprawled on the road’ after all.