His hand went numb. He couldn’t feel his right hand. The pain that consumed his hand made it numb. He wanted to kick the large man. So he kicked him. Kicked him HARD. But nothing happened. The heavy set man with the eyes of a hound was still smiling. He could see the man’s lips moving. But he heard nothing. He wanted to put his fingers into the devil’s eyes and pop them out of their sockets. He groped like a blind man searching desperately for his cane. He kept clutching the air. He was losing consciousness. He kept telling himself not to black out. His vision blurred. He struggled to maintain balance. He fell. But he still kept wriggling like the lizard’s tail which had separated from its body.
He COULD NOT black out. He had failed in his duty. He needed all his strength now. He was trying to summon every bit of it. However, what he failed to realize is that, there was none left in him. He didn’t like staying down. He stood on his knees. He was not able to see anything. His eyes were blinded by his own blood. ‘No! I should not leave him! I WILL not let him go!’ He could hear his heart pounding. His mind was racing. He was confused. His mind was caught between the past and reality. Thoughts flooded his mind. His childhood days, the picnic near the lone oak tree in the middle of nowhere along with his parents, the first time he had a long conversation with his best pal, his brother, his classroom, his ambition, his dream… HIS DREAM!
The very thought of his dream made him come back to his senses! He began to hear the screams again. He was back! He couldn’t let his mind play tricks now! He had to do something. He wiped his eyes. And he saw what he shouldn’t have seen. He shouted! Shouted like a man being castrated, like his scalp being peeled off… He could not help but struggle towards that scene with all that was left in him. And then it came. He felt a crashing force behind him, followed by a white hot pain searing through his neck down to his spine. His legs weakened. He staggered and fell.
His eyes were fixed on the scene though. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. And he cried. For the first time since he was a kid. And the tears welling down his cheek wet his dry, parched lips. Eventually, the darkness descended upon him like a cloud of dust settling down after a truck had passed on a dirt road. There he was, sprawled in the middle of the road like a drunken man who had been knocked off his feet. Curled up like a child curling up on its mother’s lap. Sleeping… Sleeping without any pain or sense or feeling. He was still there when the last possible man was returning back home on that street.
The ambulances came soon and the entire place was buzzing; with people milling about, some agitated, some filled with nervous excitement and the rest showing no emotions. The policemen examined every inch of the usually deserted road with powerful lights. They recovered his motorcycle on the road. There were no documents in it to trace its identity. Its blood-stained key was found a few feet away. Multiple fresh tire marks pointed to the involvement of a car at the time of the incident.
Shiva lay motionless in the stretcher inside the ambulance. But he was breathing. It was weak. And the monitors showed his heart was struggling. The doctors worked frantically, trying to stabilize his pressure. His pulse was erratic. He was lucky to be alive. Outside, Inspector Shakthi searched Shiva’s mobile phone for his home number. He didn’t find an entry that said ‘Home’. He called up a couple of numbers. But those guys were out on a tour. He called two other mobile numbers, but his call went unanswered. He then found an interesting entry named ‘Shewt Sweetie’. He called that immediately. But that also went unanswered. Shakthi silently cursed the present generation. He kept trying till he finally found a guy who gave the Inspector Shiva’s home number.
At the hospital, Shiva woke up with a cough. His dream was interrupted. His mom came running and kept calling his name. She was crying. His dad followed her. Shiva didn’t know where he was. He couldn’t remember how he came there. He tried to move, but realized he was literally tied down. His head was banging. His right hand was supported on a structure. His face was so heavily bandaged that only one of his eye was visible outside. Then it all came back to him. The night…
Two days had passed by the time his eyes fluttered open. But to him it was less than a minute. He felt as though he slept and woke up the next day.
The police arrived soon. They hadn’t found anything substantial with which they could proceed further. They wanted his help. Shakthi came up to Shiva and asked him a few questions. But he continued doing what he had been doing from the time he regained consciousness; stared blankly at the roof.
He stared like a dead man; evidence of life given by the tears rolling down his cheek. Shakthi returned Shiva his mobile which he had taken when he first reached the scene. Shiva looked at it. There was a number on the screen. It read, ‘Shakthi – 9840271563’. The inspector said Shiva that it was his mobile number and requested Shiva to inform him when he felt like talking.
To Shakthi, making the boy talk meant a lot. He had been having bad times lately, especially with no real lead coming up. He desperately wanted to make this boy talk. But he also knew he couldn’t force him to. After all, the kid had been through a lot. So he kept hoping he would talk soon and walked off.
For Shiva, time ticked excruciatingly slowly. Doctors wanted him to be there for two weeks. His hand had been operated upon and attached to his fore arm with nuts and screws in the elbow. It would take two months for Shiva’s hand to become functional. His face too was disfigured. It had to be operated too, but he would never get back his real identity.
He slept when sleep took him away with it. His friends Vinod and Ramya came to talk with him. Shiva could not talk with the bandages that surrounded his jaw. So he listened to whatever they talked. They told him what had happened to Shweta. She was not found yet. The police were working hard to find something with which they could proceed further.
Ramya and Vinod didn’t want to sympathize too much. Healing didn’t need sympathy alone. It needed just a few good hearts and a lot of time…
For Shiva though, re-living his life became the only way to while away time…
He COULD NOT black out. He had failed in his duty. He needed all his strength now. He was trying to summon every bit of it. However, what he failed to realize is that, there was none left in him. He didn’t like staying down. He stood on his knees. He was not able to see anything. His eyes were blinded by his own blood. ‘No! I should not leave him! I WILL not let him go!’ He could hear his heart pounding. His mind was racing. He was confused. His mind was caught between the past and reality. Thoughts flooded his mind. His childhood days, the picnic near the lone oak tree in the middle of nowhere along with his parents, the first time he had a long conversation with his best pal, his brother, his classroom, his ambition, his dream… HIS DREAM!
The very thought of his dream made him come back to his senses! He began to hear the screams again. He was back! He couldn’t let his mind play tricks now! He had to do something. He wiped his eyes. And he saw what he shouldn’t have seen. He shouted! Shouted like a man being castrated, like his scalp being peeled off… He could not help but struggle towards that scene with all that was left in him. And then it came. He felt a crashing force behind him, followed by a white hot pain searing through his neck down to his spine. His legs weakened. He staggered and fell.
His eyes were fixed on the scene though. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. And he cried. For the first time since he was a kid. And the tears welling down his cheek wet his dry, parched lips. Eventually, the darkness descended upon him like a cloud of dust settling down after a truck had passed on a dirt road. There he was, sprawled in the middle of the road like a drunken man who had been knocked off his feet. Curled up like a child curling up on its mother’s lap. Sleeping… Sleeping without any pain or sense or feeling. He was still there when the last possible man was returning back home on that street.
The ambulances came soon and the entire place was buzzing; with people milling about, some agitated, some filled with nervous excitement and the rest showing no emotions. The policemen examined every inch of the usually deserted road with powerful lights. They recovered his motorcycle on the road. There were no documents in it to trace its identity. Its blood-stained key was found a few feet away. Multiple fresh tire marks pointed to the involvement of a car at the time of the incident.
Shiva lay motionless in the stretcher inside the ambulance. But he was breathing. It was weak. And the monitors showed his heart was struggling. The doctors worked frantically, trying to stabilize his pressure. His pulse was erratic. He was lucky to be alive. Outside, Inspector Shakthi searched Shiva’s mobile phone for his home number. He didn’t find an entry that said ‘Home’. He called up a couple of numbers. But those guys were out on a tour. He called two other mobile numbers, but his call went unanswered. He then found an interesting entry named ‘Shewt Sweetie’. He called that immediately. But that also went unanswered. Shakthi silently cursed the present generation. He kept trying till he finally found a guy who gave the Inspector Shiva’s home number.
At the hospital, Shiva woke up with a cough. His dream was interrupted. His mom came running and kept calling his name. She was crying. His dad followed her. Shiva didn’t know where he was. He couldn’t remember how he came there. He tried to move, but realized he was literally tied down. His head was banging. His right hand was supported on a structure. His face was so heavily bandaged that only one of his eye was visible outside. Then it all came back to him. The night…
Two days had passed by the time his eyes fluttered open. But to him it was less than a minute. He felt as though he slept and woke up the next day.
The police arrived soon. They hadn’t found anything substantial with which they could proceed further. They wanted his help. Shakthi came up to Shiva and asked him a few questions. But he continued doing what he had been doing from the time he regained consciousness; stared blankly at the roof.
He stared like a dead man; evidence of life given by the tears rolling down his cheek. Shakthi returned Shiva his mobile which he had taken when he first reached the scene. Shiva looked at it. There was a number on the screen. It read, ‘Shakthi – 9840271563’. The inspector said Shiva that it was his mobile number and requested Shiva to inform him when he felt like talking.
To Shakthi, making the boy talk meant a lot. He had been having bad times lately, especially with no real lead coming up. He desperately wanted to make this boy talk. But he also knew he couldn’t force him to. After all, the kid had been through a lot. So he kept hoping he would talk soon and walked off.
For Shiva, time ticked excruciatingly slowly. Doctors wanted him to be there for two weeks. His hand had been operated upon and attached to his fore arm with nuts and screws in the elbow. It would take two months for Shiva’s hand to become functional. His face too was disfigured. It had to be operated too, but he would never get back his real identity.
He slept when sleep took him away with it. His friends Vinod and Ramya came to talk with him. Shiva could not talk with the bandages that surrounded his jaw. So he listened to whatever they talked. They told him what had happened to Shweta. She was not found yet. The police were working hard to find something with which they could proceed further.
Ramya and Vinod didn’t want to sympathize too much. Healing didn’t need sympathy alone. It needed just a few good hearts and a lot of time…
For Shiva though, re-living his life became the only way to while away time…
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