The Accident.

My life in Mumbai is related to the tracks.... I am late for my regular train (as usual) and like a true Mumbaikar, I run towards the Railway crossing. Using the Foot over bridge for getting to the station is so not "Mumbaiya". We, Mumbaikar's pride ourselves for being able to run across the tracks just in nick of time to catch our lifeline....

So I go ahead and I notice a group of people standing right in the middle of tracks... looking down... It doesn't take me a moment to realise what has happened...

Some body has got "Cut". You see that's the word for losing one's life on the tracks.... Everybody is looking in that direction; tense, anxious and praying to GOD to let that person be alive... I am shocked, I freeze in my path but then I don't have the courage to go further and prod. I am too numb... You see though I get to hear these stories, its the first time I am actually seeing this.... I somehow reach the station, wait to hear what people have to say.... about Who?, How? and what happened?

My train arrives, I get inside and manage to find a seat. I sit down and say Hi's and Hello's to my regular co-passengers. I tell them about the accident. They too express shock, disbelief and start recounting other such accidents... I am still numb... feeling bad... I had had a good morning and now it has worsened.

I hear people say that adequate facilities are not available at the station. And that the government does nothing for us commoners.... the general lamenting.

I keep listening and keep feeling bad. I put on my headphones and start listening to my favourite play list, hoping to cheer myself... I have a lot to catch at work today... After a few minutes people are bored of the subject and the talks divert to regular subjects... Children, Education, Price Hike...

I am little upset about so less of a concern shown by the people.... I mean that person could have been anyone... How can they be so indifferent? Weird isn't it?

And then it struck me...

Wait a second....

What did I do? I got a train, put in my headphones and lament the people, the authorities for whatever they did not do... I could have been there.... helped that person... I did not... I did not help.... A small tear forms and I cannot stop cursing myself....

Some part of my brain tells me that how much I may have wanted to help. I could never have the courage to look at that sight...

But that justification does not help.... Its not enough and it will never be enough....