Note: Reference to Sardar in the below article is not a racist remark, and by no means does it signify anything for the Sikh community. It refers to my dear-est friend (up till that day), who became my dear friend later J (I am sure you will get the joke upon reading the last line carefully, and if you don’t get it, read it again after reading the whole story.)
It was one wretched night. Recollection of 17th March 2010 still drives terror down my spine. In hindsight, the Daredevils humiliation at the hands of the Indians was not worth cribbing, for it was dwarfed by the terrible incident which was to follow ─ and we were not just there to witness it but to be very much a part of it!
We were 6 of us when it all started, from leaving for Kotla at around 6PM till the time we were cursing the distasteful Connaught Place rajma-chawal around midnight. I think we should have read the signs perhaps. They were all there, right in our faces! One of our fellow biker’s bike-tyre got deflated midway, and it was surely not because of their weight (the riders’ weight I mean), both of them were barely 220 pounds put together. And it should not be surprising when I say that we had to take a bus for the last 2 miles of our journey, for reaching the venue with our bikes / scooters / cars was just not possible. After all, it was the Delhi v/s Mumbai clash in the IPL. The 2nd sign propped up when one of our mates had her mobile phone stolen from within that ‘25 odd feet disfigured assembly on 4 big tyres’, a thing which we erroneously call bus in this part of the world. Even the miles-long multiple queues outside the Kotla gates couldn’t quite deter us from our commitment for the evening. I was just about to sneak in clandestinely when I was caught red handed by the bulkiest of guards. My crime was that I was trying to smuggle inside a weapon of mass destruction- Odomos cream, a mosquito repellent which I guess he assumed to be trigger for doomsday. Well, the match was hardly anything to make a note of, apart from the mad frenzy of a large crowd, who was rooting (not in the Australian connotation of the phrase) in the favour of the visitors, not a surprise since they had the Little Master playing in their team. “Sachin! Sachin! Sachin please hit a six.......” was all I could hear, even when Daniel Vettori and Dirk Nannes were batting. Not only was the crowd imagining the opposing side’s captain to be batting, but also hoping that he would hit a six in their direction......I don’t know if it qualifies better as the Height of Madness, or as the Height of Optimism!
While trying to push that horrible Rajma Chawal meal down my throat an hour after the match, I kept wondering why Ravi Shastri had the same speech recorded for every post match presentation- “Ladies and Gentlemen! We have just witnessed another nail-biting cracker of a match!” Doesnt he realize that Delhi lost by a huge margin??? With all due respect to the CP Dhabha, I guess the horrible taste could also be attributed to the way my Daredevil ego had been dented that night. Sardar and I later tried our luck at McDonalds and by that time, only the two of us were left behind. It must have been around quarter to 1 when Sardar was reasonably satisfied with his 2 Chicken Maharaja-Macs, 1 large French Fries and a Pepsi, and we decided to head back to our college hostel. “Dhaula Kuan or Janpath?”, I remember him asking me as my preferred route to be taken that night, and I am sure he still hates me for answering “Janpath, it’s quieter and serene out there!” It was all quite serene till about 100 meters from the Rajpath-Janpath crossing, when suddenly we had a close shave with death...
Our LML Vespa was not over 40 Kmph, partly because of the ‘serene’ surroundings and mainly because of Sardar’s impaired night vision. But we soon realized that the same was not the case with others. “Chadhe, accident hon lageya hai” (Chadha, an accident is about to happen) is what I distinctly remember being told by Sardar. I request the reader to not judge me when I say that I got excited when he told me this, for I had never ever witnessed a live accident in my life before. It was a reflex action from my side when I asked him- “Kitthe?” (Where?) But I give you full right to judge Sardar for his foolishness, for he left out a small yet most crucial detail out of his sentence. Actually, his full sentence was- “Chadhe, (Sadda) accident hon laggeya hai” (Chadha, OUR accident is about to happen). Well, he thought that the OUR part was implicit in his statement. So the next thing I see is that in less than a microsecond Sardar applied the brakes of his LML Vespa. Approximately at the same time, a Lancer, speeding at around 140 (well the speed part is Sardar’s estimate) hit a Wagon R side-on. The Wagon-R must have been around 80 Kmph (Sardar’s estimate again), and such was the impact that the Wagon R was uprooted and spun 360 thrice in our direction. Both of us knew that we would not survive the impact, and our scooter skidded 3-4 meters before coming to a final halt after being hit by spinning Wagon R. It was no less than a miracle that the rear end of the busted car missed our heads by 10 centimetres. Both of us were shaken with disbelief, and were lying in the middle of shattered glass panes, 10 meters from the unrecognizable Wagon R and the pile of blood pouring out from it.
A crowd was quick to assemble, followed by the loud sirens of the police. Out of the 10 people involved in the accident, both of us were the only ones who were still conscious and escaped with minimum damage. It took me 10 minutes to convince the police that the occupants of the part crippled 2-wheeler had escaped the destiny’s wrath. The policeman probably was not interested or excited to see us alive. He kept asking me- “Bhai Saheb, aap samajh nahi rahein hain....woh jo scooter gira pada hai kaanch k beech, uspe 2 log jo baithe they, aapko pata hai unki laashein kahan hain” (Dude, you are not understanding my point. The 2 people on that scooter, which is lying there in the middle of broken glass-panes and a pile of blood, do you know where their dead bodies are?) Sardar, on the other hand tried his best to assist the less fortunate Wagon R occupants. The site was dreadful. There was an immediate casualty, a 13 year old boy who had been ejected by the spinning car and was killed in a second. It took us 20 long minutes before the rest could be taken out and carried to the ambulance.
I again request you not to judge us when I say that we only entered the ambulance which was registering First Aid when we realized that it was being done for free! You know how college life is, don’t you? I was trying to avoid first hand media publicity and humbly told them how shaken I was after that terrible incident and that I would not be able to entertain their questions. They empathized with our situation and understood our condition. They were hence not expecting Sardar to tell them anything either, when to everybody’s surprise Sardar told them- “O Naaji naa! Koi chakkar nai! Poocho poocho!” (It is absolutely okay, we are ready to give interviews!) Quintessetial Sardar! I still managed to escape the dozens of cameras that were flashed upon us the next instant, and could only hear Sardar explain the whole accident using Collision Theory, Newton’s Laws of Motion, Rotational Motion and Projectile Mechanics. And yes, there were some Speed Distance Time estimates thrown in there too! How we managed to reach back our hostel is a different story. Let’s just say that luck was on our side as we escaped another possible accident 30 minutes later. Both of us were laughing hysterically, not because we did not care, but because we were so scared to death and in a state of shock that we could not have reached back had we not been laughing to calm ourselves somewhat. We later learnt that the driver of the Lancer was arrested. We were never contacted thereafter, despite being registered and documented in the police records as principal eyewitnesses. It took us quite a few days to fully recover from the mental shock. But three things have indeed changed since then ─ a) that was the last time I went to see an IPL match live b) I no longer take Janpath as my preferred route, nor do I consider it 'serene' anymore and lastly and most importantly c) it was the last time I risked my life on Sardar’s LML Vespa!
I felt like I was a part of the real Final Destination scenario out there. If only had I read nature’s signs that day! If only I had revolted my Odomos being thrown away, and had returned to the college hostel without watching the match....On a more serious note though, I think God wanted us there so that some people’s lives could be saved, the credit to which goes to Sardar. Amongst the various epic lines from that long day that have been etched in our memories forever (all statements in italics are verbatim from the incident), I remember one more that was so ironic to our whole situation. I would not provide the literal English translation to this one though, as it would completely kill the essence. When I was sitting on the roadside, spitting continuously to prevent any intake of glass particles, I saw a car slowdown beside me. Twenty odd meters from the battered Wagon R and a dead-body, this guy rolled down the window of his car, and asked me......
“Bhai Saheb! Ye Dhaula Kuan Ka Raasta Kahan Se Padega!”
The End
Further details of the incident:
(Wagon R photographed on the 18th morning, after the deadly accident)
I remember this, I was there at the match as well as CP .... But hats off to you, that you sat on Paaji's Vespa in the first place... You are the real Delhi Daredevil ....
ReplyDeleteI too remember this....when you guys came back....and then days of the repetitive story from your and Paaji's mouth....
ReplyDelete