V.Viswanathan
There used to be a time when auto rickshaws were considered the most dangerous species on the roads of Chennai. But now they have easily been substituted by motorcycle riders.
When you drive on the road, you can spot a man to your left driving a double-decker sort of bike at a breakneck pace and someone – either a boy friend or girl friend precariously perched on the pillion in an exalted position, virtually.
Now, these bike riders will suddenly swerve into your lane with a sharp bend as in a lap of a professional bike race and even as you fear that you’re going to hit them, they’ll disappear by making another sharp bend and steady themselves to your right, making your heart miss a few beats. Well, that’s daredevil motorcycle riders, for you.
Whenever a youngster vrooms past me at such a fashion, I’m reminded of the fate suffered by my young friend Balaji who shared his story during a session.
Balaji joined an engineering college and immediately got a motor bike. He would ride his bike at top speeds irrespective of bustling traffic or empty roads, with both his ears muffled with ear phones and drive for most part very close to the median. That indeed was his youth statement.
It was a day during his second year in college. As usual, he was on the road driving his bike at 90 plus speed with gay abandon and speaking on his mobile. A lorry honked from behind but it didn’t get Balaji’s attention. The lorry overtook him and veered to his lane. He had no choice than to do a very hard braking.
Something that he could never imagine happened. The rear wheel of the bike got detached due to braking impact and took a detour on the road. “Just like in a circus, I was driving a one-wheel bike,” said Balaji with fear reflected from his eyes. “I soon skidded, hit the median and when I opened my eyes, barely half an inch of space ahead of me, I saw a car tyre that had stopped just in time and spared my life.”
A crowd gathered. Surprisingly, Balaji could spot many of his own family members and relatives, as he happened to fall within 400 metre distance of his own house. Thinking that it was just his casual escapade, none tried to pull him out of the mess. Instead, they said wryly, “Balaji. The way you were driving, we knew this’d happen. Probably, this is one year late.”
He couldn’t get up. On hospitalisation, he realised that his spinal disc had been badly ruptured. He lay in bed for eight months motionless. It was impossible for him to turn over in bed without someone’s help. His engineering went for a six. Unable to bear the physical and emotional agony, he even planned to terminate his life but thanks to his mother’s immense support, he dropped such tendencies.
When he recovered, to support himself, he took up a physically excruciating menial job for a paltry pay. After some months, he quit this and decided to fight back. Now he’s doing a course in Management and has dreams of succeeding big in life thanks to his entrepreneurial skills. Balaji says, “I still drive but at a safe speed. Adventurous driving, mobile phone or ears plugged while driving – God, a Big No!”. He adds poignantly, “ I want to escalate this message to the youth of this nation. ‘Always drive safe and lead a safe life’.”
