Everybody knows that blood
is red, but what they don’t tell you, is how warm it is. A thin trickle of
blood made its way down from Rajiv’s forehead, hung off the tip of his nose
for a moment, then slipped into his mouth. It tasted so warm.
Rajiv blinked. He was lying
flat on the concrete pavement. His skull felt like it was being pounded by a
hammer from the inside. His breath came in wheezing gasps. He tried to stand
up, but couldn’t move a muscle. He tried to raise his hand, but it wouldn’t
respond. Even lifting his neck felt like a herculean effort.
His t-shirt was torn, and
blood oozed from deep gashes on his chest. His left ankle was swollen up to the
size of a football.
He was in a narrow gully,
next to a row of garbage boxes. Sounds of chanting emanated from the main road
at the end of the gully.
“Ganpati Bappa, Morya.”
“Mangal Murthi, Morya.”
Rajiv saw a throng of
people carrying a large orange-colored idol of Lord Ganesh, the great Hindu
god. It was visarjan day of the Ganesh Chaturthi festival, when devotees took
out their idols in grand processions and immersed them in the sea.
Rajiv lay still, staring
into the Mumbai night sky. It was thick with smog, yet he could see a star or
two.
What had he done to deserve
this?? He only tried to help some people who desperately needed help….a little
girl in a faded kurta…a dark boy missing his front teeth…
He didn’t want his life to
end. Not like this, lying alone and battered in some obscure gully. He closed
his eyes and prayed.
“Please don’t forsake me,
Ganpati.”
“Don’t leave me here to
die.”
Every inch of his body
yelped in pain.
“Rajiv baba?? Is that you?”
A voice called.
Rajiv saw a bald, old man
bend over him. His face was lined with wrinkles. A face that Rajiv recognized.
“Cha…” Rajiv opened his
mouth to speak, but what came out was an unintelligible splutter.
“Don’t say anything,” The
old man said. “Don’t try to move.”
“I’ll get help,” He
scampered off towards the main road.
Rajiv had no idea how long
he remained there, breathing and praying. Could have been minutes, could have
been hours.
At some point, he heard the
shrill sound of an ambulance. Voices of men came closer, yelling things at each
other. A torchlight was pointed at his face.
Next thing he knew, he was
inside the ambulance, an oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth. In that
weary, drug-induced haze, he had a sudden flash of memory. He remembered the
faces of the men who had come for him. They had grabbed him and thrashed him
with sticks.
One face in particular,
illuminated in his mind. The face of a hulking man with broad shoulders and a
small neck. And fiery red eyes that never blinked.
Those eyes. He couldn’t
forget the look in the man’s eyes, even if he wanted to.
That was his last thought,
and then there was darkness…
