8 months 9 days 20 hours and 30 minutes.......

24th July, 2009; 3:30pm; Sec’bad Railway Station: This was the 3rd time this week I have come to this station। No I have not been coming here to see off anybody neither to receive anybody. But the reason for my visits here may sound trivial to most, is something very important.

After 8 months 9 days 20 hours and 30 minutes I feel a sense of happiness which, I had completely forgotten। I make my way through the crowded platform no। 1 towards the inward parcel office. Yes, that is the place I have been visiting for the past 2 days. But always went back disappointed and most importantly, empty handed.

“Kahan ho aap, kitni daer se aapka no। Try kar rahe hain.” The voice at the other end of the line said, irritated, when I had called up at 2:13pm. But aaj my heart said – Sab maaf!!! Coz I was happy, so happy that I could not express. Since then I just counted every second till I could get out of office and go to the station.

Yadgiri, the person I had befriended at the parcel centre the very first day I had come here। As soon as he saw me he said, “jab nahi aaya toh barabar jaldi aate the, aur aaj jab aa chuka ha to itni daer laga di.” I said, “buss kaam hi aisa hai, kahan hai woh.” He asked me to sign the register while he went to fetch it from the platform. I eagerly signed the register and got the gate pass. I fiddled in pocket quickly and fished out the keys -brand new keys. They had arrived the very next day Dad had couriered them and since then I started carrying them daily in my pocket. Just then Yadgiri shouted from behind, “side hato.” I turned back and saw him bringing it into the office and moving towards the exit. Even before he asked me whether it is ‘it’, I had recognised it. He said, “kyun no. Yaad hai kya parcel slip ka?” I said “Nahi!! Tyre ka thread ka design yaad hai.” After all I had chosen it 3 years back when I had decided to go in for a broader tyre. Yadgiri saw it again, the entire bike was covered with gunny bags but the tyres could be seen and he just smiled. Must have thought one crazy grown up kid I am.

He took it outside and put it on the side stand। I rushed to cut open the gunny bags, just like how an excited kid would open his gifts on his birthday. Yadgiri said, “Rukiye, hum araam se khol denge. Kaafi achi packing ki hai.” Then I stood back as Yadgiri very meticulously and carefully cut open the gunny bags covering the body. Beneath the gunny bags was a layer of waste newspaper. After around 6 minutes and 45 seconds (exactly according to my casio stopwatch) of working on it, finally, there it stood gleaming in the afternoon sun of Hyderabad, my Quicksilver. After 8 months 9 days 20 hours and 30 minutes it was there in front of me and I had the keys in my hand.

For some it may be just 8 months 9 days 20 hours and 30 minutes but for me it was nothing less than a lifetime। Perhaps a tear trickled down my eye. I was reminded of the day I had got the bike the first time. I was recuperating from a minor ENT operation in my house in Nagpur when Dad drove it in, not only into our courtyard, but into my life. 27th August, 2003. It was around 6:30 pm and was drizzling. I came out excitedly, holding my mom’s hand as I still was feeling a little dizzy due to medication and stood there on the steps just admiring this silver coloured machine in my courtyard.

“Saab thoda chai paani।” It was Yadgiri and his voice just brought me back to the present. The same silver coloured machine stood in front of me. But this time it had a name “Quicksilver”. I just dug into my pocket and found a 50 Rs note. I gave it to him without saying anything after all I was very happy. He walked away but I still stood there staring at QS for a little while. Went closer to it and could clearly make out the parts that had been replaced and repaired.

“Get the paint job done once the monsoons get over।” My dad had told me. Hence the scars on the tank were still visible. I just caressed it, from head light to tail light. I bent down and glanced over the engine and the rear tyre and suspension. I sat on it and raised it upright from the side stand and I felt empowered all of a sudden. Just last week I had met my doc and he said that my injury had not healed fully and that I would have to maintain precaution and that 25% of the area wasn’t getting blood supply and blah blah blah...... The voice just faded in my head and there was another voice in my head which shouted, “Bullshit!!! You have recovered 100% now.”

I looked into the mirrors and adjusted them। They were also new. And in the mirror I could see not only what was behind me but also what I had left behind - the accident, the pain, the hospital, the bed, the wheelchair, the walker, the crutch and also most of all the sadness. And perhaps I also saw a glimpse of all my friends faces, smiling and giving me encouraging words, standing behind me and most importantly I saw my parents who despite the whole world around them being against it, gave me back the most important thing in my life or if I can say, gave me back my life.

I looked sky wards and thanked the Almighty. For if it wasn’t for Allah, leave alone 8 months 9 days 20 hours and 30 minutes, I wouldn’t have ever ridden a bike again. Thank you Allah for keeping me safe and also for keeping Rahul safe.

I looked in front; the rush hour traffic was picking up density in front of Sec’bad station and for the first time after 8 months 9 days and 30 minutes, looking at bumper to bumper traffic, I smiled :-)