January 04, 2008

Keep them on

I have long been thinking about writing here. i have even longer been thinking about writing this story. Well lets have it done with.


There was this guy, he wasn't really crazy about bikes or anything. He wasn't usually crazy for many things at all. Sometimes he even missed not being crazy for things, but that is not what is important to the story, so we'll let it go.

So he wasn't really crazy about bikes, but it was long since he wanted to have one. He wasn't really impulsive and so didnt just jump into doing what he wanted to. He was the type who gave unusually long thought to most things, and would end up doing whatever the first thought was.

He had a problem with the bike thing though, he didnt ever like the helmets. It was better earlier, he would think, people weren't forced to save their lives. He figured that it was probably a PITA for the people who then had to handle the deadbodies and all, but then, they would still have to handle living bodies after the accidents. Why the hell do people care so much about others lives. Anyways, now since he cared about his wallet and its contents, he wore the helmets whenever he went out on a borowed bike.

So then after the long thought about getting or not getting a bike was over, the decision was the first thought which had hit him about six months ago 'I should get a bike'. He decided to do that. He talked with a lot of people about which one and technical aspects. He compared things which he did not know full-forms of. Numbers were enough. Higher would usually be better.

He was still pissed with the helmet rule, and now that he would be using a bike more often, it meant more of headache. But then he had to get one. And he got one.

So then how the drama would have it. He bought the bike, and the helmet and some other accessories which he did not know existed, before getting into conversation with the dealer. And he was on his way back home. Happy he was. Satisfied smile on his face. The handles turned out to not be as comfortable for the 2 hour ride home, as he had felt on 5 minutes test ride. But its ok, he would get used to it. His friend's bike didn't even have a very comfortable seat. He chose his helmet well. How must he be looking riding the sexy bike. The bike has the best in class looks. He would buy the sweets from shop at the end of the row and who would be the first person to ride behind him. He knew, he would not love it if others asked for his bike too often. He wouldnt be able to refuse. But its ok. He would take care of the bike. The bike will be the most well maintained one in his circle. Four years later his friends saying 'man, this is some bike after all this time'. HORNNNN, THUDDD, and next thing he heard was people shouting 'Oye' in quick sucession. He didn't anything much after that.

He opened his eyes, and suddenly he felt his head light, and looked for his helmet. Then he started recalling the series of events. A person in white, doctor, talking to his father. He couldn't hear very clearly. "He's lucky..........save ...... hand .......hurt....... walk.....life ..... 15 days....... helmet .......... life ......... bike is..... lucky ..... helmet"

Camera zoom-out, doctor talking to his father replayed in third person: "He's lucky to have survived. We could not save his hands and one of his feet. He has injuries on spine because of which he would not be able to sit up, stand or walk for life. We would keep him in observation for 15 days. His condition is still very critical. But we are hopeful that he will live. Helmet saved his life. The bike itself is in such a horrible condition. He is lucky to have survived because of wearing the helmet."

Its been 5 years now. They dont come to visit very often. People have their work to handle. And his treatment and therapy have to be paid for. The nurse was feeding him the soup and the soup flowed out of his mouth on both sides. He could still not eat solid food. The nurse was feeding him because he could still not sit up. He would stare at the cieling. It was still difficult to turn his head. His sister found it too much hardwork to stand in such way that her face obstructed the view of the cieling. He had asked her to do that, partly because he wanted to see her face, and partly because he was bored of the view. He could speak. And he would talk to the nurse often, since it had been about 8 months since he talked to anybody else. His mother used to come and he used to hear her cry. Then she stopped coming. He used to talk to the nurse about his mother, and his girlfriend, and how he had bought his bike. And about how lucky he was to have been wearing the helmet. He was alive. Or so had the doctor said.