Cross roads

Screeeeeeeeeeeeech...and the car stopped one femtometre away from me. This has happened to me with an unhealthily high number of times. The glance and the words of the halting driver range from unadulterated apology to unabashed fury. But that’s the way I have been...clumsy in crossing roads by myself.

Luckily for me I have escaped all those what-could-have-been-a-fatal-accident scenarios unscathed. I had once jumped out of a running train (it was yet to gather full speed) after realising that I had boarded the wrong train. A severely bruised elbow (a bruise that my sister had labelled as a “movie bruise”...apparently she had seen such a bruise only onscreen and believing such bruise marks to be unrealistic had ridiculed the ineptitude of the make-up team) and a scratched knee was all that I got out of the accident. And yes...some questioning looks about whether I was trying to commit suicide. (Always a bad idea...even if your life gives you the extremes of pain there being no guarantee about a rosy afterlife suicide is a stupid, high risk and of course irreversible project) Anyway as I was saying...every time I escape an accident I look at my life line smugly, secretly smiling at death...why I feel this way is beyond explanation since neither my life line is my artwork nor is there any glory associated with being careless while crossing roads...but I do it.

Crossing roads at night becomes more like a challenge for me. Way back in childhood I had read in a book that while hunting the prospective prey is flooded with a strong light that dazes them. Somehow when I look at the headlights glaring down at me, almost urging me to move I stand transfixed much like the lower animals.

Life has strange twists...I now have to cross a national highway 10 times (no exaggeration) each working day...all by myself. This is exactly the kind of thrill I was NOT looking for. I still chicken out whenever I have to cross a road (pun intended)...but what to do...just as the life line on my palm is not my art work so aren’t the several other lines that call boardroom meetings to decide upon the course of my life and always conveniently forget to include my opinion...sigh...sigh...