The
way death claims its victims is as normal as it is unique. One wonders who
writes the scripts for some of the victims who perish without knowing why. These
scripts are always most inhumanly creative, cruel beyond imagination and most
horrendously instantaneous. True, one would never know the when-how-where of
one’s last earthly activity, but one has the right to know at least why there
is discrimination in the scripts, and this question we had raised earlier also.
Of course, the answers would never come.
The
youngest member of the family had all the right to be excited at the coming
event. It was too early for him to get unduly concerned about the ways of the
eternal stalker named death. His earthly existence began just about six years
ago, and every small or big pleasure entertained him thoroughly. And this time
it was big. His father was planning to buy a car. He was doing the countdown
one month in advance making or revising future plans every single day. Why him,
no one in the 7-member family had any clue to the designs of the stalker.
Finally
the car arrived. His father knew driving and so things were moving easily. It was
decided that the maiden trip in the brand new car would be to their ancestral
home in the nearby town, and all of them would travel the next day morning. His
father really wanted to show his prize possession to his relatives there.
Early
morning they started the journey; his parents, his grandparents and his two
siblings. The air inside the car was joyful, alive, eager and talkative. For the
first two hours the journey was smooth with his father driving expertly and at a
moderate speed. The highway was wide, good and well-maintained that would tempt
anyone to drive at breakneck speed.
A
lorry was moving ahead in their lane and his father felt no hurry to overtake
that. In fact the lorry was occupying almost two lanes and there was not much
space on the right side for overtaking.
Suddenly
a tanker with a huge capsule laden with hot molten tar honked continuously
trying to overtake both the car and the lorry. Although the space on the right
side was not enough the speeding tanker went on with it. In the process it hit
the road divider. The severe jolt made the capsule detach from the engine and
lurch forward dangerously.
Their
car had no room for manoeuvring an escape, because the lorry was close in front
and on the left side it was rough terrain off the highway. Within a few fearful
moments the lurching capsule overturned and fell on top of their car crushing
it beyond recognition. The hot bitumen started flowing out immediately and
engulfed the vehicle.
Miraculously
he did not get any serious injury, and managed somehow to extricate himself out
of the mangled mess. He hit the windscreen feebly and cried out to the
passers-by for help. However, the script was so tightly written that no rescue
was possible. The spreading hot lava of bitumen muffled out his cries and
engulfed his tiny body in a few seconds. Assembled pedestrians helplessly witnessed
the little boy with all his dreams and innocence die an agonizingly cruel death
in front of their eyes.
Another
boy, hardly into his teens, too had no concerns about the stalker, and only
wanted to enjoy a few more moments of life. His caring parents dropped him and
picked him up from school every day without a break. That day he had his last
exam paper and wanted to celebrate the end with his friends. He asked for his
father’s permission to come home on his own only for that day which was
granted. And he was dropped at his school as usual by his father.
The
most sought-after celebration took just an hour. The happy boy then went to the
local railway station to take a train home. He had his best pal with him. As they
entered the station a crowded local was about to leave. His friend immediately
boarded the train as it started to move. To be with his friend the boy walked
briskly along to get a proper hold to board. In his effort he slipped and fell
into the gap between the train and the platform. His slim little body was
sucked in, cut and mangled in a few moments as if to follow the script in toto.
The
eternal stalker never relents. How many more scripts are in readiness for
special humans—who can tell?
(The two articles written earlier on this theme will be published here in coming days. Both these two and the above one are based on real incidents.)
