2006 April A Journey

From BikeNomads

The following is a string of emails which started with Ashwani recounting his experience and who helped him, followed by other Nomads.

Ashwani

I am sharing something I experienced during my day ride to Dehradun on Sat, April 22, 2006.

The name Thapa probably doesn't mean very much to you. You are not alone. It didn't mean anything to anyone who mattered. He was a forgettable face and an ordinary life

A Nepali by origin, he retired from the Indian army as a Subedar and worked as a watchman. With all his sincereity and hard work he graduated to become the caretaker of a property in Binsar (near Almora). I met him when he started his career as a civilian way back in 90's.

Thapa was always part of our evening sit-outs over bonfire and he used to join in for all recreational activities during our trips to Binsar. Though frequency of our meetings came down, but the bond strengthened with time. He always used to send loads of chestnut, or home made rhododendrom juices/jams, etc. etc.

I never met his family, but knew each by names, likes, etc. .

Then I get a call in the night from his daughter, telling me the inevitable - Thapa left this world. He was 67 years and was in his home in Dehradun chatting with the family when it stuck.

I left for Dehradun next morning to bid farewell to my friend.

All this while I was riding, a discussion happening on one of the bike forums was on my mind about biker's soul salvation, discrimination, aim in life, etc. etc.

At Muzaffarnagar bypass, long before I could see there was a bang. A scorpion and a maruti van had an head on collosion. A badly mutilated body on road, a profusely bleeding lady and a kid crying for help was what I saw. What was I supposed to do? Ignore and ride on to my friend's cremation or soul searching or higher aims somewhere else or help the injured.

Without a second thought, I did whatever was expected from a human. The injured badly needed medical attention and not sermons. Medical help arrived and they were shifted to nearby hospitals.

Did I do it to get peace for my soul or was I looking at some kind of salvation? I did not know or cared about the caste/creed of those injured or dead nor they asked me, but I knew that a living soul was in distress and I am to do something to save a precious life. All that mattered was blood group. What hurt me most was that almost all four wheelers stopped, stared and drove on to Haridwar for soul cleaning, without bothering to help. I don't know what self pittance they were seeking for or what made them do this.

After attending the last rites of my friend I left Dehradun in the afternoon.

Traffic on Delhi-Meerut route is very dense and I make it a point to cross it either early morning or early afternoon. It's sheer torture otherwise. Somehow while coming back I got stuck in this and was riding very carefully.

While crossing Muradnagar, an auto overtook me from wrong side and slightly brushed bike's front wheel. I lost my balance. Everything was instantaneous thereafter but is registered in my mind as if happening in slow motion.

I could see my bike going out of control with front wheel zig zagging all over, road moving closer to me and hear wild screeching tyres of vehicles behind me. Everything happened in fraction of a second, but the perfect coordination of reflexes sent messages for me to quickly get out of the way of approaching vehicles. My right shoulder and arm hitting the road saving the body from the initial impact. In a moment I was up and turned around with both hands in front to stop the oncoming vehicle. I could see the end there and then. The careful driver of the car had braked hard and stopped inches away from me.

I was on my feet and jumped to the pavement. I did not know at that time if I was hurt or all limbs were intact. By a queer chance, the bike did not fell on me and stood perfectly balanced on the side railing. A passerby parked his cycle on middle of road to stop the traffic and help me. By then I knew that no major damage has been done to me and I must rest for it was time for the shock to hit me.

I was half unconscious soon with body going numb lying on the pavement. I could only sense the presence of some humans asking for my well being. Realising I was in a delirium, one of them got a bed sheet and pillow for me to rest comfortably, another got water, third one removed my helmet and shoes and a old lady massaged my hands, feet and head.. A pungent smell came from the pillow and surrounding. Overpowering all this was the warmth of human bodies and their soft comforting touch. That old lady kissed my head many times and kept on saying something which I could not make out but with her soft hold felt something going deep into me. It is something incomprehensible I went through.

This went on for about an hour when I could get enough strength to open my eyes and sit. All I could see was a group of nomads, rag pickers, beggars around me and a girl fanning me. One of them got hot milk mixed with haldi to give me strength. That lady kept on rubbing my back and hair.

I could hear someone nearby reciting prayers for me. A lady quickly went to the local deity for my being safe. I was with them for about two hours before I could get enough strength to get up and move. They were reluctant to let me go fearing for my safety. I did not know what to say to them and hugged each for being with me.

Riding slowly finally I made it home. Only injury I got was a slightly bruised right knee and a painful wrist. I did not share anything with the family for I knew if I tell them now they will be worried and my riding days will be over. I could not sleep that night for the wrist swelled and the body ached.

Next day sitting in the comforts of my home I wondered all about philosophies of life advocated by the learned/religions viz-a-viz what I went through a day before.

What is Spiritualism, Nirvana or Salvation? What are those higher goals of life or life after death we look for? Is self pittance the right path for it? Where does humanity stand in this?

What were those people (so called outcastes) who cared for me looking for? What was their religion? Did they know about my religion or origin? Did it matter? Was religion of people who helped me in any way to influence on the happenings that day or my being safe and sound?

I am an aethist, had they all known about it what would they have done?

My beliefs are now strengthened to firmly believe that the world is still full of people who do not care for all this but are always there to work for a cause good for another living soul. For me it's the Humans winning over Religion.

I can only sum it up with a urdu coupling by Majaz (though written in a different context) about the society which lives beyond the relms of religion/caste/creed of my country, but live for a wider cause 'HUMANITY'.

• Har Sham hai shaam-e-Misr yahan, Har subah subhe Shiraz yahan (Every

evening here carries the spectable of Cairo/And the gentle morning resembles the garden city of Shiraz).

• Hai saarey jahan ka soz yahan/Hai saarey jahan ka saaz yahan (this place

has space for the world's pain and all the world's music)

Ride safe

Ashwani

Hitanshu

Ashwani Saar,

very absorbing read - and to think that you didnt even mention it when we met on Sunday!!!!!

OTOH, I saw an accident in my rear view mirror on Friday night. A discover crashed with a TVS Star City. The disco rider was at fault and sped away quickly. My first instinct was to dissociate, just blink and ride on. However, something inside me didn't feel right, and i went back to help the fallen rider. While my sister stopped oncoming traffic, another guy picked him up and I took his bike out of the way. It was very eerie watching that big gentleman more fragile in our arms like a little baby, almost a flashback to the time I had my accident and was lying helpless on the road nearly an year back - something in me wanted to return that basic human favor - to reach out and give back the healing touch i got.

Its very beautiful how your mail covers both the giving and the getting, though sadly how I wish you hadnt had to recieve it :(

Felt really good to read. Thanks for the gift!

Karthik J

Ashwini, Sorry to hear about the loss of your friend. That sounds like a very eventful ride and its quite aptly summed up. It is good to know that you returned safe.

This reminds me of my accident around the same time couple of years back. I was on the way back after visting my wife (8th month of pregnancy) at her parent's place in Chennai. It was a smooth, peaceful ride in the wee hours, doing a comfortable 110 when suddenly my rear tube burst. I think, I blacked out for nearly 15 minutes! All I could remember was waking up with a bleeding nose, a bitten tongue, a swollen neck and a profusely bleeding left leg. The day old Bieffe lid was broken but still strapped to my chin and the bike neatly wedged into a foot-deep hole by the ditch. It was near Palmaner, some 120 kms from Bangalore. The trafic wasn't much and the passersby thought I was dead/dying and didn't bother to stop. Most parts of AP are notorious for naxal activity - that could've been a reason too.

Looking for help ended in vain as I could not shout or speak due to a swollen neck/throat. I was so desperate to get myself out of the situation that I somehow mustered all that was left in me - physically and mentally. I didn't waste a second - popped in a Voveran analgesic, tore my pants to wash the wounds and sprayed the Healex all over it. The aerosol dressing was like acid on the fiery red flesh. It was, physically, the most painful moment in my life and I almost cried. I managed to pull the 190 kgs bike with one hand out of the ditch, collected the Cramster (I was testing a prototype then) and other stuff strewn over a 10 metre radius, removed the rear wheel off the axle and tried replacing the tube - all in under 20 minutes. God knows where that strength came from!

A good samaritan came in the form of a truck driver and voluntarily stopped to offer help. God, what a relief it was! He told me later that he was the one I waved to before stopping for tea at Ranipet. He helped me fix the new tube but we realized that the rim was bent out of shape and most of the spokes were damaged - cannot ride in that condition. He hid the bike behind a bush, picked up my bags to drop me at a dhaba at the nearest village and carried on with his work without even expecting a "Thank You". I had to wait till daybreak to get in touch with my brother and help me (and the bike) get back home. I was hospitalized for a week and it took me over a month to recuperate - over 6 months to get over with the "tyre-o-phobia". When I think about it, it seems to me as if he was a guardian angel that followed me all the way to ensure my safety. His name is Kanakaraj. Though I still call/write to him on ocassions, I know, I cannot thank him enough!

Cheers, Karthik