The Trauma

Every year more than a lakh people are killed in road accidents. With the advent of technology, the accident rate hasn’t reduced, but drastically increased. Accidents not only claim the lives of the victims but also are very painfully traumatic to the families of the deceased.

'Driving is my passion’ I always used to say this.

'Have you ever heard the euphonious rattling of your car when you drive it faster than the rate at which adrenaline is pumped? Have you ever felt the response time tick in your eyes as your car throttles in its untold vanity? Does your four-chambered heart pump like the pistons in your 16-cylinder engine?’

And so on, I would ask umpteen questions to myself.

But on this fateful day, which partially crippled me below the spine, I never knew that it would be my last stint in the driving seat. As usual I was racing on the Jubilee road, when a small kid appeared from nowhere, and I pulled the handbrakes, but the dynamics of motion kept it going. Leaving a trail of skid marks across the road, I jumped the divider and rammed into a vehicle coming in the opposite lane.

I didn’t remember what happened after that. I didn’t even know what happened to the occupants of the vehicle into which I crashed.

For six months, I was equivalent to a dead man, lying on the bed. I could hardly fathom things happening around me. It was the most difficult period to be construed. If I saw doctors at one time, the other time I saw police. My mommy would occasionally sit by my side, clasp my hand, and lay her head on it. Tears would roll down her eyes and this wetness would awaken me.

‘What happened to the other vehicle?’ I would ask my mom quiescently. Tears rolled from my eyes inadvertently and she would wipe my tears, without saying anything.

It was only after 9 months after the accident, I overheard one conversation when I came to know that a family was in the car, a man and his pregnant wife and both died on the spot.

That devastated me.’ I will never forgive myself’ I always thought, ‘I have ruined one family because of my mistake’

Within a year, I was able to walk with the help of crutches, but nevertheless my morality was crippled for life. I couldn’t even look at my hands to wipe my tears, they stunk of the murders. I was enervated by the post accident trauma.

I wanted to meet their family and beg pardon from them. I knew it wouldn’t be that easy for them, but their clemency would at least reduce the burden on my heart.

I reached their home. The ambience was dreary and gloomy. I slowly trampled along the fallen leaves on the path, pushing myself with the crutches and reached the door.

‘Knock… knock…’ no one answered.

‘Hello, anybody there?’ Nobody answered.

Noting that the door was open I pushed it slowly and it creaked open. I looked around. The whole house was gloomy. Cobwebs on the ceiling, lots of dust on the floor. Seems like no one has cleaned the house since a very long time.

There was an old man sitting on a rocking chair. He turned towards me for a second and looked at me, and then dropped dead onto the ground. I kneeled down close to him and tried to feel his pulse. It was cold. He breath his last.

Suddenly I heard a voice from inside. A low wail.

‘It’s coming from this direction’ and I walked apprehensively towards the bedroom. I was shocked to see the events that followed after.
An old woman was weeping with the portrait in her hands. I moved a little further but hearing the sound of the crutches, she looked towards me. I was about to say something before she pulled out a can from her side. Her sharp looks pierced me for a second before she emptied the can onto herself. I was so startled by this move of hers, that even before I could recover from the jolt, she lit a match and set herself ablaze.

And I rushed out of the room to call someone for help and I saw one girl running into another room. I was trying to push myself as quickly as possible with the crutches. I reached the room; she stared at me before she took out a blade and slashed her wrists. Even before I could reach her, she fell onto the bed.

I reached the hall once again to call the emergency service, but…..

The next morning police arrived at the house.

‘Detective Andy, we found these two papers lying down there. One of them is an old newspaper dating almost a year back and the other a note’

Detective Andy opened the newspaper and read out the news, ‘... And the old parents and their girl, unable to bear the loss of their son killed themselves in distress …’

And the note looked like a suicide note. It read ‘… And so I am committing suicide!!!!’