6th
April 1994. The sky was overcast. It was 3.00 in the afternoon. We had just
returned from a cousin’s wedding when my husband announced that it was time we
left for Kannur. Summer vacation having started we decided to leave Ammu our daughter, with my mother. Vacations for my
daughter was ‘masti’ time with grandma.
Reaching
the gate we looked back and waved to her. But, the usual smile was missing.
Instead tears welled up in her eyes. She suddenly ran up to me and hugged me
tight.
“Don’t
go amma. Stay here with me for another two days.” She pleaded. But duty did not
permit me to overstay my leave. I
somehow managed to release her and moved leaving her
wailing. This was the first time Ammu had ever cried on seeing us leave.
The
journey from our small town to Calicut was uneventful. On reaching Calicut we
took another bus to Kannur. I moved towards the ladies seat in the front, when
my husband suddenly called out to me. He wanted me to occupy the seat in the
middle, with him. I said I would be fine. Yet he insisted. I joined him. The
bus slowly gathered speed.
We
spoke about our daughter. We wondered why she had wanted me to stay back. I had
an uneasy feeling. But my husband assured me that everything was fine. The
heavy wedding feast and the cool breeze caressing my cheeks led me to deep
slumber.
Suddenly
I felt a jerk followed by a deafening sound. It took me some time to realize
that our bus had collided with and incoming truck. Women and children were
wailing. People were shouting at the top of their voices. The seats along with
the passengers were thrown haywire. Only mangled metal could be seen.
Vehicle after vehicle sped with lights on and
horns honking, carrying the injured. Suddenly I heard my husband calling out to
me, asking me if I was fine. I tried to
move only to realize that my legs were caught under the mangled seat in front. My husband started trying to move the mangled
metal to release my legs
“Fast,
Fast. The diesel tank is leaking.”
Several voices were shouting.
The
smell of diesel and the voices below acted as a catalyst. The thought of my
little one and my mother jolted me to action. Even before my husband could say
another word I pulled my legs. The instinct to survive is great. My legs were leaden. Someone below asked me if I
could climb out of the window. I decided to take the chance. Better a fracture
than being charred to death. Blood was oozing from my legs. But I felt nothing.
A vehicle sped carrying us to the nearest hospital. By now both my legs were
aching. They were badly injured. My husband had received just a few bruises.
Suddenly
I felt my stomach aching, I let out a cry of pain. My ever cool husband’s
forehead creased a bit wondering whether I suffered an internal injury. He
tried to draw attention to my plight. But then help was not easily available.
All the doctors and nurses had been called in but the number of injured were
several times more than their clan. So we had to wait for our turn. All the
time my husband held my hands. His very
touch was relieving. He asked me to close my eyes and lean on his shoulders,
try and shut out the pain. I followed his instructions as a child would do a
parent’s.
I
don’t know how long I leaned on his shoulders but I am sure it was a couple of
hours. But all the while he sat still lest I be disturbed. Finally,
our turn came. The wounds were cleaned and stitched. Bandages were wrapped. All
the while that hand was there in mine giving me the courage to bear the
pain.
Later
I came to know that the women and children in the front seats were the worst hit. Few
of them succumbed to their injuries . Some others had their
limbs amputated. I was lucky. My husband’s insistence had saved me from both.
Later, while remembering the day’s incident I have often wondered whether it was the hand of providence
to make us realize how closely we are bound to each other.
That
day I realized that love is all about caring. A touch, a look, a
pressure in the palm is enough to communicate your feeling for the other. Words
are meaningless in front of them. I realized that my
husband was as noble, as strong and as rare as platinum. I can always depend on him for support. The tie between the two of us is everlasting.
Platinum is the least reactive metal and so is my husband. He keeps his cool even in the tensest situation . My husband is my Platinum, someone I cherish and will always continue to do so. Of course I have never thought of buying or gifting platinum till I decided to write this post but then, thinking about it I feel it’s not a bad idea. Platinum for the Platinum Man, A Toast to Everlasting Love. Sounds great doesn't it?
Image courtesy of Victor Habbick at FreeDigitalPhotos.net |
Platinum is the least reactive metal and so is my husband. He keeps his cool even in the tensest situation . My husband is my Platinum, someone I cherish and will always continue to do so. Of course I have never thought of buying or gifting platinum till I decided to write this post but then, thinking about it I feel it’s not a bad idea. Platinum for the Platinum Man, A Toast to Everlasting Love. Sounds great doesn't it?
Inviting you to visit my blog at wordpress too to read the latest - http://geetaavij.wordpress.com
Please leave your footprints in the form of comments and suggestions. Your words mean a lot to me.
No comments :
Post a Comment