Travelogue 4: Brain Damage

I shoulda probably died on July 4, 2002. Conventional logic and expectations didn’t gimme much chance. The statistics and probabilities were rather overwhelmingly against me. Not too many people survive railway accidents in Bombay. Definitely not too many cases where a head injury is involved.

And yet. Here I am. Still walking this journey.

I like to just mentally “stop” for a bit on the 4th. Every year, like some crazy ritual. Every year I think to myself, “I shouldn’t be here.” The fact that I am, while it keeps me going every single day, is strangely disconcerting as well. Near-death sort of experiences can and do appear to make you think funny. More on that later.

I remember having to head to Andheri to, ironically (considering I was crap at college), submit forms to secure admission into an engineering college. Standing at the doorway of a slow local train departing from Borivli, with two friends standing ahead of me, and one to the side. Standing at the doorway, although I believe it is illegal, is something that is a common feature of Bombay locals, and is something I did regularly to avoid, in all likelihood, asphyxiating in the inside of the compartment in the crush of human bodies.

My last memory is of the train stopping at the Malad railway station, a good three stations away from my destination. I think my mind hit the pause button after that. And then conveniently didn’t unpause for about 5 days. The next bit is a reconstruction of the kind they show on all these medical detective shows on discovery channel.

Passengers in Bombay locals have an annoying habit of beginning to push out even before the train has come to a standstill at a railway platform. Indeed, most of the fellas at the doorway bound off the train when it is far from still.

Which is the same that happened with me. As the train rolled into Andheri, the pushing began. Even as I was being pushed much farther out than was probably safe, my friend ahead of me shouted a warning about a railway electricity pole that looked dangerous. Pole 21-18 did turn out to be dangerous.

Crack!

Head injuries and me go a long way back. But meeting a mass of steel when travelling at a not too slow speed with my forehead is something I hadn’t really tried before. The experience was not pleasant.

The initial impact threw me off the train. I can only, however, marvel at the human body’s instinct for self-preservation. Even while falling down off the train, I managed to grab on to the footboard of the train, clutching on to where my feet had been only a second before. Self-preservation nonetheless could keep off the blanket of unconsciousness that swept my mind for only so long. With the result that I crumpled, luckily, to the side of the railway tracks, as opposed to getting dragged under the train, which would surely have marked my complete end, if not a complete end for some appendages.

Its a sad reflection on the kind of people that seem to inhabit this forsaken city that even as my friends were racing to get to me, having thrown themseleves out of the train with not too much regard for their own safety, some unworthy soul was attempting to wrestle my wallet outta my jeans.

Help luckily arrived to rescue my wallet and me and bear away what I’ve been led to understand was a rather bloody-faced body. I do not know how those three lugged me away over a distance of about a hundred metres, through what must have been extremely startled crowds, to a taxi. Suffice to say that after some trying trials, I landed up safely at a hospital, whereupon my friends began mobilizing any and all people they could think of—their parents, friends, friends’ parents, my family, and I dunno who else. By the time I had been whisked away to another hospital, one with better facilities for my particular problem, i.e., shattered head, a veritable army of family and friends had arrived armed with blood (literally) and money where necessary.

I believe I woke up on the 5th day after the incident—even know the details are hazy. It was 11 more days of interesting experiences before I could make my way out to the world again. Not before some kind doctors endured some not insubstantial verbal abuse from me when semi-conscious to fix a slightly broken skull and a partially ripped forehead.

Whew.

I count this day as among one of those defining moment type days. Far-reaching impact and all that…

I don’t fear death anymore. Actually, I’m not sure if I did before, but I definitely don’t now. Having come so close to death made me realize that, obviously enough, it can happen just about anytime. I could die right now as I write this. Ok, this example doesn’t work coz you wouldn’t be reading this if I did.

I could die tonight, immediately after clicking the publish button. This healthy new-found understanding of death is rather interesting. I know its out there, somewhere around. Not actually around like Brad Pitt in Meet Joe Black. Just plain regular around.

Another “side effect” is that i don’t have much in the way of long-term plans. I figure, what’s the point of looking 15 years down the line to a house with a white picket fence, etc. Live in the here and now. Live each day for what it is and enjoy it. Could be my last. All the small stuff in life, good and bad, carries a lot more value when you think this way.

So many people I know have already painted the big picture of their life and gone, “this is where I’ll be.”

I play with the colors everyday, not really knowing what I’m creating on my canvas, coz I dunno if I’ll be.