30th December
2013
It was one of those spanner like thing which they use to
tighten the nuts of tires of a heavy vehicle, conveniently “T” shaped rod whose
distinctive shape was used to perfection to accomplish a ghastly ordeal, giving
the phrase “fit someone to a T” a disgustingly new meaning. It was a lethal
blow right on the center of my head, all I remember was the bone crushing pain
it induced. Then it was a buzz, a disgustingly irritating buzz like that of an
ambulance or a police jeep siren, little did I know that these two vehicles
will play an important role in the coming years of my life filled with
repentance. How I wish I had never survived the appalling torment.
The ruthless,
cold- blooded bastards would have never contemplated that the very rod with
which they were parading their supremacy would come to haunt them for the rest
of their ill deserved life. It was a rod which shook the country, it was a blow
which stirred the conscience of every citizen of our “independent democracy” and
above all it was a night which acted as a spark in igniting a war which the
fairer sex fought for their emancipation against an apathetic administration.
Sadly, it needed a sacrifice - a gruesome, merciless
sacrifice which deprived the parents of their loving daughter, the little young
brothers of their protective sister, and for me a friend who thought me how to
smile in spite of the innumerable odds she was pitted against, a friend who
became the darling of the entire nation, a friend whose fighting spirit and
resilience hence forth shall be an exemplary influence whom the whole
of female kind shall look up to.
A year went by but the agony still haunts me to date, it
left me with all kind of strange paranoia. Today, I had to take the
same dreaded fly over and I was in a bus. Instantly there was a sense of déjà
vu. I felt uneasy, in spite of the chilling Delhi cold, my palms started to
sweat, my heart started beating faster, I felt I couldn't breathe, as though
someone just shoved in something inside my wind pipe (another
phobia of mine). Panic struck me like a bolt of lightning, I was this close to
shrieking my guts out, I wanted to ask the bus driver to stop; I just wanted to get out of the damned
bus. It was then that I heard the voice:
"Don't budge...Face your fears. You can do this for me"
I recognized the voice; it was a voice which could stir a thousand emotions in
me. If the warmth in her voice stirred up my affection, the wailing agony of
her voice stirred all the pent up rage and remorse left inside me, sadly...that’s
how I last heard her!!
'Move on' she tells me, but how? I cant concentrate on my work, I am lost and dazed half of the times, Innumerable visits to the shrink(he was the one who wanted me to write a diary) but I still quiver at the thought of taking a
girl out; I still get nightmares about the incident and have spent sleepless
nights having a dialogue with my conscience. Could I have saved her? Could I
have done something different to overpower those goons for whose inhuman deeds can’t
be described in a word because it’s yet to be coined? Could she still have been
alive fighting for her rights, if it weren't for me? My life right now is
surrounded by all the repentance; I wish I had answers for the questions thrown
at me by my resentful conscience. Wish someone could see the other side of all this, it wasn't one but two lives that they have destroyed that day. While you my friend, the more resilient of us, have settled down among the angels, I am stuck here with the devils who shall continue to haunt me, but I shan't let you down.
Wish I could move on….
