A different attempt this time. Enjoy reading!!!
He had felt happiness in being alive when he experienced the air whistling in his ears while he rode his bike. He had found the joy of living when he was served that yummiest butter chicken at one of the roadside dhabas.(* How ironical isn’t it, he felt lucky to be living when he ate a dead animal?*) He didn’t remember the name of that dhaba and hated himself for it. He had found the joy of living when the falling raindrops and the cool breeze made it difficult for him to stand yet he stood there to experience it.
But he had lived these moments when he was young and to him, now times and changed and he had to act responsible. So he never went on those rides where he would push himself further than the 60kmph mark or when he would allow himself to not wear a helmet when the weather was nice.
He never went to any dhaba anymore, as he had tried enough times and failed that many to find that place again. (he thought on leaving chicken, but to him that was more than remorse). The only moments when he now experienced rain was when he was on his bike and it rained suddenly, but he had a raincoat in the boot of his bike to make sure he doesn't get drenched. He did trace the drops stuck on the window’s path towards the bottom end of the window pane though and somewhere longed to get wet again, he longed to do all those things again, but he always had a voice inside him reminding him the one question he had repeatedly asked himself over the years, “what if”?
What if he rode without the helmet and met with an accident? What if he let himself try all the dhabasand never find that one place again? What if he got wet and got himself sick? He had started asking himself these questions in order to act responsible but now, as it turned out, it had become his paranoia. He believed every pleasure let lose a side of you that would lead to an act of foolishness. The consequences of which could harm him emotionally or physically. The very thought of finding the place where the dhaba once stood and now it being the land where petrol pump would stain his best memory forever. He was afraid now, afraid to let lose the vulnerable side of him.
Samar was not the kind of a guy who would attract any attention as he mingled easily with the crowd. He had nothing unusual or outstanding about him or his appearance that would make anybody notice him. He was the wheatish complexioned 27 year old man, heighted 5’10”, medium built who dressed simplistically. He was the perfect common-man.
After 5 years into his job, Samar finally got a promotion. His pay had increased and he was elated. He hopped onto his bike, and soon as he did, small drops started falling on his hand. He looked at the skies above and tried embracing the slight breeze by opening his arms wide. The drops tempted him to experience them the way he used to. The breeze teased him by fading away after every few strokes. He longed to have the same experiences again. He wanted to have that silly, irresponsible, unsafe bike ride again. It was like God had offered him his favourite chocolate in the morning and now was handing him over the candy that could bring back his childhood memories. All he had to do was to let the child in him push his hand forward for the now dull and responsible Samar, and push hard it did.
Samar hung his helmet on his hand, turned on the ignition and accelerated the bike. He had made up his mind, he was going to find that dhaba today. He set out in search for it. His friends had drove him there while he was fast asleep and while coming back, the well fed tummy had dozed him back. Nobody remembered the place as they were lost already when they had found it and were sloshed on their way back. Guessing and enjoying the rains he eventually did find the dhaba. He had tried losing his way from Chandigarh to Delhi again but starting from Delhi this time and as he had known God’s hand on his shoulder for the day, he eventually found it. The chicken tasted just the same and just as amazing. He raised his head upwards and thanked the heaven for granting his wishes. It was still raining when we was on his way back home. He hadn’t been happier than this in years.
He rode at the speed of 80kmph and was enjoying the breeze. His swollen tummy got him a few burps in between and he would smile at finally having found the place. Though it wasn’t raining anymore but the road was slippery. He was singing to himself when a truck with a drunk driver inside hit him. With the jerk from behind, the bike went sliding forward, and his body was thrown off it. As he hit the road, he landed head first. The helmet rolled alongside but got weirdly stuck in his arm. The blood flowed and got diluted in the puddles of the now over rains. He died on the spot. But he died content.
Since college he had been nothing but a rat and forgot about his desires. Feeding his family, keeping his boss happy and not thinking about joys but responsibility were all that occupied his mind since the age of 22 and the only day he kept these aside was the day he died.
His life as a rat started with a “what if” for himself but ended with a “was it”. Was it god’s evil plot to grant him everything he wanted before taking his life or was his loosening himself that led to his death? Both are likely. But for all we know the question mark shall remain there forever and there is always one in our minds too. For the rebels it is “why not? “, for the complacent ones “why me?”, for the ones with a positive attitude “what next? “ and for the paranoid ones like Samar, it is and shall always remain “ what if?”. It isn’t right to be of one kind always but it isn’t right to switch sides immediately also. Samar lost his life to it and leaves you with one question, what if it turns out that thedhaba wasn’t the same place where he had eaten those 8 years back? As for all he knew the chicken tasted the same.
No comments:
Post a Comment