Untitled

The train hit him, he fell into the drain, and drowned. That was all - it happened in five seconds. That became my first meeting with the grim reaper.

There was nothing we could do to help him. We were on the platform, shouting that he drop his huge sack and retreat. But he seemed to value that sack more - he wouldn't abandon it. He stood there paralysed, and the train hit. And we couldn't go help him, for another train came the other way. He just lay in the drain, and drowned. We could only give him over to the police.

The train killed him, and it wasn't its fault. Maybe it was his fault for not heeding the railway warnings. Maybe it was the sack's fault. Maybe it was nobody's fault. I don't know.

I have seen villains die in movies. But that is fake. I have killed thousands of flies. But that is science. I have seen rats, crows, chickens, dogs dead - their intestines spilled on the road. But they are just animals. Nothing to worry about.

But now I saw a man die. And those five seconds have haunted me for a week now. Why is it affecting me so much?

Comments

Braveheart said…
Perhaps because it's a familiar enemy who, you know, will conquer you one day. His invincibility is well-known but it could be his ruthlessness and indifference to the poor man's pitiable state that is haunting you.

Just a thought! I don't know either. If I were there, I'm sure I'd myself be disturbed for very long.

-- Akshaya
Ozymandias said…
When I am, death is not. When death is, I am not. So why should I fear death?
Braveheart said…
Because there is an inflexion point, Raamesh.

And this inflexion point will not hit you when you are idling in the Himalayas waiting to go into concavity from convexity. It'll strike when you are least expecting it, when the struggle of life is still on, when you are still in the middle of something, when you are still terribly worried about your sack and how to take it across the track.

It's not about death alone, instead it is about the ruthless disrespect of life on the part of death. It doesn't let you finish.

-- Akshaya