It was a normal sunny school day. Sharan was in his junior high school on THAT day. The day when the Fall took place. Just like how he had travelled to school all these years he took his red atlas bike (he had insisted on a gear changing one, but it was his uncle, Gayathri's second brother Keshav who had insisted on that one. Maybe that was why the Fall happened. Luck. After what Keshav had done, and as Sharan grew he knew his uncle's true colours, which made him to think like that.) His bag loaded with books, his favourite books, he set off to school, the same old 3 km route, which he had traversed all those four years. The route itself was like life , full of changing scenarios, a residential apartment from where he starts. Next stop: a below "middle class" locality, then the bustling urban heart of the city main road, a slum where people squatted on the road, whilst their children did their "morning jobs" alongside stray dogs searching for a treaure amid the rubbish accumulated along the sides of the road. Then came a fork to the left leading all the way to the hills to the north-west, a highly acclaimed religious centre, a temple atop the hill top. Ahead of the fork was a car show room and a petrol bunk. From the fork the road took a broad turn. The turn contained the showroom and the petrol bunk. The ill-fated turn. From where Sharan's life will take a turn. Turning his peacful sleep into nightmares. Turning confidence into self-doubt and the feeling of being a loser. Few shops ahead on the straight road. Than turn left. Few more shops and there lies his school. He loved his school. He was a different kid. He loved almost everybody. All his teachers. He admired them. He wanted to be a teacher one day. As well as a scientist. He had eclectic tastes. He wanted to know a lot of things. Lot of them all of them. On the way as he passed the slum he caught up with a class mate of his. They chatted as they pedalled. Ahead. Oblivious of what lay ahead. What strange turns the peaceful morning is going to take on the turn where the petrol bunk lay. They passed the fork on left and whizzed past the show room. Time took a slow motion. What happened next was so sudden so horrifying that would shake him out of his sleep for the next few days. Would make him horrified behind the wheels of his car which his family would buy after two years.
Sharan's front wheel struck the side of a moped which had lost control in front of him screeching to the side of the road. And the driver balanced himself and took off as if nothing had happened. He didn't know unknowingly what he had done behind him. He receded to a dot as he drove down the road. Meanwhile, the lorry that had been coming down the road raced past the bend. Sharan lost his balance. And fell down. Down as he went. A lorry on the opposite side he saw it racing down. He fell along with his cycle. Down they went together as his horrified friend looked helplessly those seconds of imminent disaster. Sharan fell along with his cycle as the lorry whizzed passed. rrrrrrrrr... right over hishead. Splattering his brains. Red splats. Blobs all over the highway.
Vrooooommm... screech.... splat! one moment alive and the next under the wheels of a speeding lorry.
Sharan woke up. Sweat beading on his brow. There! The nightmare was running again in his head. It was like a superhit movie. Running non-stop for several days. On-demand from the audience. A horror movie. His right ring finger pained from the surgery that had been performed the previous day. It had been "set right" by using a wire. The docter said it would be "alright" in a month when the wire would be removed. But the effects of the incident will linger on as a bitter taste in his mouth forever.