Guilty

A hot morning. Heavy traffic. You know how it is. You are impatient. But you have to move in inches. Further down the road, the traffic cleared a bit. I was whizzing past when I saw a guy on the road side telling two others "Hit the brain, I think", pointing behind him and then pointing to his head. That slowed me down. This isn't a normal conversation.

A few feet from them, I saw a man being helped to sit by two others. One of them was patting the man's cheeks saying "it's nothing sir. it's nothing. Sit up". The other was holding the man by his armpits.

The man himself was bleeding from his head. I could see bloody skin peeled off from the top of his head. His hair was matted with the blood. The blood had run down his neck and his shirt was wet with it. What really bothered me were his eyes. He had a wild, bewildered look in them. He looked as if he did not believe it. As if he didn't know what's happening around him.

I passed on.

I did. I then realised to my consternation that I did not stop and offer help. I was in a two wheeler. I accused myself of not offering to take him to the hospital.
I tried to appease my conscience saying that the five guys would take ample care of him. I did not need to barge in. But conscience is a tricky friend. It still bothers me that I did not stop.

Did I do the right thing?

The Girl and The Machine

Rewind to a coupla years back.
"I'm planning to buy a two-wheeler", I told the Pater.
The mercury hit the top. "My daughter on a scooter? On these terrible roads? I absolutely forbid it! I won't have you breaking any bones!" (He meant others' bones of course!)
Right-o! Another dream down the drain. But, the spark wasn't completely extinguished.

Fast forward to the present.
My unc came up to me, "I can't use my bike because of my operation. Do you wanna take it to office or something?"
Do I??!!
Though he was apprehensive about the Pater's reaction, I convinced him with my mother's golden words - 'What they don't know can't hurt them'.

I was all set to go. With his helmet (which I believe he got as a wedding gift - 40 years ago) on my head, like a good girl I went straight to office. I was already late and had to hurry. So I took the short straight path. After an usual day, I was eager to start home, with a stop on the way for some shopping.

With my jacket on, without the hindrance of that helmet (I know, I know, breaking rules and all that - but the wind rushing through you - what an exhilarating feeling! (Plus my sense of fashion (ahem!) prevented me from wearing that scrap metal (I've got to stop here before I put up any more parentheses))), I started my journey.

It was my dream to take a bike and explore hitherto unknown streets in my town. I was so excited that I was gonna live my dream! I started with taking any and all side streets that took my fancy. I avoided known main roads. I explored my area to my heart's content. I must admit, I did hit upon numerous dead ends and no-entries. I went in circles. The journey which should normally take me about an hour took me nearly one and a half. But did I care? Oh no!
What did those matter when compared to the Liberation that I felt?