Goodbye Vasanth

March 05, 2006. Sunday. Around 7 PM.
A family of 5 is driving back to Bangalore from Tirupathi, in their new car. A young man, all of 24 years, is behind the wheel, driving along the highway as he has so many times in the past. His uncle had bought a new car, and had planned to visit Tirupathi over the weekend with wife and twin daughters. Since he was known to be a very good driver, his uncle asked him to accompany them to the sacred shrine.

On the way back, about 10 kms from Kolar towards Bangalore, he is driving through a series of treacherous curves on the highway. To avoid the muddy lane, he steers the car just a wee bit to the right, almost to the center of the road. An oncoming tanker appears out of the blind curve. Before he realizes, it's all over.

A head-on collision so strong that it split the Santro into two halves. His uncle died on the spot with his skull busted open. He suffered internal bleeding, with ruptured testicles, and finally succumbed on way to the hospital. The 3 women in the backseat are seriously injured, and are being treated even as I write this.

The sight of a motionless 24 year old cousin, seemingly at complete peace with himself, was horrific. As I bent down to place the rice grains at his mouth, as per Hindu tradition, I saw his face from up close, almost without any visible injuries.

Visions of a 9 year old kid pleading with me to teach him to ride a bicycle flashed before me. It seemed like only yesterday that the two of us were at the annual fair at Ragigudda, trying to shoot balloons with an air-rifle, and attempting to carefully aim and throw the metal ring over that elusive box of Parle-G biscuits.
So many memories played in front of my misty eyes that I couldn’t conceal the smile on my face.

And then when all the mist cleared, I was again staring at reality.
A still, lifeless body being carried into the funeral van. For the last ride.
Goodbye Vasanth.

May God give your parents the strength to handle the enormousness of your loss, and the will to live on with your memories.

They say if you are genuinely missed by at least a few people after you die, then you have had a good life. Going by that measurement, you've had a truly great life.

Wherever you are, I know you will still continue to make a difference to everyone around you.
In life. And in death.