May 9, 2007

Game Over

This is the end, beautiful friend
This is the end, my only friend
The end of our elaborate plans
The end of ev'rything that stands
The end

No safety or surprise
The end
I'll never look into your eyes again

Can you picture what will be
So limitless and free
Desperately in need of
some strangers hand
In a desperate land

Lost in a Roman wilderness of pain
And all the children are insane
All the children are insane
Waiting for the summer rain
There's danger on the edge of town
Ride the king's highway...

The chance encounter with the Grim Reaper left a big impression. We just trawling along the highway, stuck in a clot of overloaded trucks wondering what'd caused it. Through the gaps, we spotted a group of men, clad like labourers are – in dust – stopping each grumbling truck and asking for something. Highway beggary?

Finally, some trucker took heart and gave them an old bedsheet. One of those sheets that've seen it all. The threadbare sheet bore a thousand stains, was ripped in places and was now going to its final destination.

When we got to the break in traffic, a characterful old Bajaj Chetak was stood in the middle of a circle of stones hastily collected from the roadside. On its other side was a sheet, covering a lump. A pair of lifeless hands, feet clad in holed white socks stuck out defiantly from under the sheet. A cold chill gripped my heart as I saw the apparition of the Reaper glowering at me, floating effortlessly above the sheet and his scythe still dripping. Death had claimed another.

Who was he? Was he the family breadwinner? Was he a lout? Was he respectable? Or a lecher? It didn't matter. Death settles all differences. Now he just someone who would never walk the earth again. Why did he die? Did a unmindful trucker bump him off gently? Or did he just stumble and fall on his unprotected head? One will never know. Hell, I didn't even realise when the traffic jam turned into a chaotic funereal procession.

Lyrics from The End by The Doors.


Anonymous said...


Glifford said...

Ouch! Sends a shiver down my spine! Kinda brings back memories... more than 5 years ago

Of a stretcher... just outside the tiny Kanjur Marg station at day break (some 6 AM). Covered completely with a brand new crisp white sheet. A couple of blood stains had seeped through.

Well for busy Bombay, it was just another number to the statistic! One more track victim.

Later realised every station in Bombay has a stock of those stretchers and white sheets. They need them!

theslayer said...


Sankoobaba said... goodness...!
and thats why I consider myself lucky...
jI ust have this bandage around my could have been worse... my speed was approx. 20-30 kmph..tried overakin from left on a thin lane...sverved left....on my right side there was a santro....while sverving didnt check its was turning left bumped me(I think..don't remember!)..I slipped...right hand side mirror broken to pieces...crash guard pant tore. knee wound got septic ....helmet/jacket/gloves saved upper body....the whole thing cost my bike 4k..of course ignoring my medical bills...lapse of concentration with a rush of adrenaline..santro guy was afraid..a family guy...I said my mistake.!! he said ..even he didnt look back! well I will back on my bike..soon...a changed person!!

--xh-- said...

Peace to his soul.
A rainy saturday afternoon. I was shifting my house, and a almost new D125 ws waiting for me at the new house. Sinc enext day is sunday, I thought I will buy helemt next week. On teh way, saw a crowd - nd a guy lyng on the ground..dripping blood hv formed a pool, joined with rain water... poor guy was not wearing a helmet. He was overtaking a Tempo Traveller through Right side, but traveler took a right to avoid a auto. Hit him and cost his life. Very next day, went to Lalbag road and brought a MPA.

The BATFAN said...

That's a nice poem though. Is it your own rearset. Could you please give the details of the author if it is not an original composition.

rearset said...

As it says right at the bottom, that's part of the lyrics of the song The End by The Doors. Unless I'm mistaken, those are Jim Morrison's words