The way death claims its victims is as normal as it is unique. One wonders who writes the scripts for some of the victims who perish without knowing why. These scripts are always most inhumanly creative, cruel beyond imagination and most horrendously instantaneous. True, one would never know the when-how-where of one’s last earthly activity, but one has the right to know at least why there is discrimination in the scripts, and this question we had raised earlier also. Of course, the answers would never come.
The youngest member of the family had all the right to be excited at the coming event. It was too early for him to get unduly concerned about the ways of the eternal Stalker Named Death. His earthly existence began just about six years ago, and every small or big pleasure entertained him thoroughly. And this time it was big. His father was planning to buy a car. He was doing the countdown one month in advance making or revising future plans every single day. Why him, no one in the 7-member family had any clue to the designs of the stalker.
Finally the car arrived. His father knew driving and so things were moving easily. It was decided that the maiden trip in the brand new car would be to their ancestral home in the nearby town, and all of them would travel the next day morning. His father really wanted to show his prize possession to his relatives there.
Early morning they started the journey; his parents, his grandparents and his two siblings. The air inside the car was joyful, alive, eager and talkative. For the first two hours the journey was smooth with his father driving expertly and at a moderate speed. The highway was wide, good and well-maintained that would tempt anyone to drive at breakneck speed.
A lorry was moving ahead in their lane and his father felt no hurry to overtake that. In fact the lorry was occupying almost two lanes and there was not much space on the right side for overtaking.
Suddenly a tanker with a huge capsule laden with hot molten tar honked continuously trying to overtake both the car and the lorry. Although the space on the right side was not enough the speeding tanker went on with it. In the process it hit the road divider. The severe jolt made the capsule detach from the engine and lurch forward dangerously.
Their car had no room for manoeuvring an escape, because the lorry was close in front and on the left side it was rough terrain off the highway. Within a few fearful moments the lurching capsule overturned and fell on top of their car crushing it beyond recognition. The hot bitumen started flowing out immediately and engulfed the vehicle.
Miraculously he did not get any serious injury, and managed somehow to extricate himself out of the mangled mess. He hit the windscreen feebly and cried out to the passers-by for help. However, the script was so tightly written that no rescue was possible. The spreading hot lava of bitumen muffled out his cries and engulfed his tiny body in a few seconds. Assembled pedestrians helplessly witnessed the little boy with all his dreams and innocence die an agonizingly cruel death in front of their eyes.
Another boy, hardly into his teens, too had no concerns about the stalker, and only wanted to enjoy a few more moments of life. His caring parents dropped him and picked him up from school every day without a break. That day he had his last exam paper and wanted to celebrate the end with his friends. He asked for his father’s permission to come home on his own only for that day which was granted. And he was dropped at his school as usual by his father.
The most sought-after celebration took just an hour. The happy boy then went to the local railway station to take a train home. He had his best pal with him. As they entered the station a crowded local was about to leave. His friend immediately boarded the train as it started to move. To be with his friend the boy walked briskly along to get a proper hold to board. In his effort he slipped and fell into the gap between the train and the platform. His slim little body was sucked in, cut and mangled in a few moments as if to follow the script in toto.
The eternal stalker never relents. How many more scripts are in readiness for special humans—who can tell?
(The two articles written earlier on this theme will be published here in coming days. Both these two and the above one are based on real incidents.)
