Post #72 : The diary of a Blindman (*2)

Post #71 : The diary of a Blindman (*1)

We woke up early morning to attend 5AM aarti . There wasn't much crowd. Most of the pilgrims were tired of last day's hike to see *stones of god* . But my mother didn't want to miss any aarti .
If god is everywhere, why is he in mountains?

Around 5:45 we were coming back to our lodge on our feet.
We reached point where we (technically my parents) could see our lodge when we heard screams and rumbling voices rapidly coming near.

Screams turned from *bhago* to *bachao* in seconds.
Before I could ask my father he picked me up and ran.
After a few moments of that adrenaline run he stopped and took the side by a rock.
I felt splashes of water on my head.

By then I had realised that there was a river flowing just a few feet away from us.
The river wasn't there before this minute.

We were hiding behind a U-shaped rock of sufficient height and strength to protect us from landslide. But not for long. We were inside the curve of that U and landslide was hitting it on the outer curve.

Emergencies slow down the time. My father had a plan made in his head in few seconds.

I climbed on his back and we started hiking up.
After hiking up a few metres there, we were stuck.

In front of us was the disaster again.
We were on a thick stone and there was water everywhere around us.
Everything else disappeared. Our lodge, that Mandir from where we were coming - *vanished*

Our life saver, the U-shaped rock was immersed by then.

It started raining heavily and we were just waiting to die. My mother almost fainted seeing dead bodies flowing few feet below her.

After sometimes flood slowed down but was still fatal. And then there were gigantic rocks coming in the flood tearing apart the rock we were standing on.

We came closer and a stone of size of my head hit me in my abdomen.
It hit it me so fast and I slipped.

I was in the water to my knees when my father caught me by my hand.
This isn't a Bollywood movie. The flow was fast and I was then a part of the flood.
Last thing I remember was my mother screaming my name. And then sound of water.

Here lies the biggest doubt of my life.
I'm writing this means I'm alive. So I know that after this accident, my mother didn't talk to my father for really long time.
She never told me the reason behind it.

But I'm blind by eyes, not by mind. I can see always through her heart.

She had made a belief in her mind that my father deliberately let me go.

What can I say? I hadn't *seen* him leaving my hand.
But maybe, I was really a burden on them. Or at least on him.

I am still looking for a final thought on this. Sometimes I accept that I'm a burden and he might have thought that it was the best way to get over me guilt free.

Sometimes I want to believe that it was really an accident. Flow was too fast and he had not much space to stand. And what kind of father does that...

Anyhow, while I was in flood, I realized it wasn't water as I was assuming. It was *mud*, thick dense mud with rocks and stones in it, flowing faster than a usual river.

I had given up. I would take a breath if I came up by chance for a second.
But then for a long time, I didn't come up and was unconscious.

When I woke up, it was still raining and I was hearing chirrups. I took them as birds and was imagining if I was in heaven but later my ears started working and they were actually humans talking.

I started shaking my head and someone near me shouted "Arre he is alive".

I was picked up by a few people and I screamed in pain. The worst pain imaginable. It was my leg.

Then they told me that I was lying by side of a valley and they first thought I was dead. Because of my leg.
From my toe to my knee my bone was visible.
I had been there for a day.
Had no idea where my parents were.
"Why didn't I die?" I thought.
Pain killed my hunger. Lucky me, people near me were starving.

People would make a group and go higher on hills looking for food packets dropped by military.
But nothing was dropped that day.

I went unconscious umpteen times.
On day 3 rain stopped and packets of food were dropped by helicopters.
No one offered me food. Then a Sardar (assuming from his voice) gave me a bread loaf.

Holding it gave me pain.
Chewing it gave me pain.
Swallowing it gave me pain.
Crying in pain gave me pain.

By evening, rescue team was there. They were not starving so did something human and first picked me up. I remember being picked up by a stretcher and getting an oxygen mask on my face.

Next I woke up in a hospital in Dehradun. My parents had found me.
And my leg had lost me.

*To be continued*

~ Chand Sethi

Post #73 : The diary of a Blindman (*3)

Friday, August 1, 2014

Post #72 : The diary of a Blindman (*2)

Post #71 : The diary of a Blindman (*1)

We woke up early morning to attend 5AM aarti . There wasn't much crowd. Most of the pilgrims were tired of last day's hike to see *stones of god* . But my mother didn't want to miss any aarti .
If god is everywhere, why is he in mountains?

Around 5:45 we were coming back to our lodge on our feet.
We reached point where we (technically my parents) could see our lodge when we heard screams and rumbling voices rapidly coming near.

Screams turned from *bhago* to *bachao* in seconds.
Before I could ask my father he picked me up and ran.
After a few moments of that adrenaline run he stopped and took the side by a rock.
I felt splashes of water on my head.

By then I had realised that there was a river flowing just a few feet away from us.
The river wasn't there before this minute.

We were hiding behind a U-shaped rock of sufficient height and strength to protect us from landslide. But not for long. We were inside the curve of that U and landslide was hitting it on the outer curve.

Emergencies slow down the time. My father had a plan made in his head in few seconds.

I climbed on his back and we started hiking up.
After hiking up a few metres there, we were stuck.

In front of us was the disaster again.
We were on a thick stone and there was water everywhere around us.
Everything else disappeared. Our lodge, that Mandir from where we were coming - *vanished*

Our life saver, the U-shaped rock was immersed by then.

It started raining heavily and we were just waiting to die. My mother almost fainted seeing dead bodies flowing few feet below her.

After sometimes flood slowed down but was still fatal. And then there were gigantic rocks coming in the flood tearing apart the rock we were standing on.

We came closer and a stone of size of my head hit me in my abdomen.
It hit it me so fast and I slipped.

I was in the water to my knees when my father caught me by my hand.
This isn't a Bollywood movie. The flow was fast and I was then a part of the flood.
Last thing I remember was my mother screaming my name. And then sound of water.

Here lies the biggest doubt of my life.
I'm writing this means I'm alive. So I know that after this accident, my mother didn't talk to my father for really long time.
She never told me the reason behind it.

But I'm blind by eyes, not by mind. I can see always through her heart.

She had made a belief in her mind that my father deliberately let me go.

What can I say? I hadn't *seen* him leaving my hand.
But maybe, I was really a burden on them. Or at least on him.

I am still looking for a final thought on this. Sometimes I accept that I'm a burden and he might have thought that it was the best way to get over me guilt free.

Sometimes I want to believe that it was really an accident. Flow was too fast and he had not much space to stand. And what kind of father does that...

Anyhow, while I was in flood, I realized it wasn't water as I was assuming. It was *mud*, thick dense mud with rocks and stones in it, flowing faster than a usual river.

I had given up. I would take a breath if I came up by chance for a second.
But then for a long time, I didn't come up and was unconscious.

When I woke up, it was still raining and I was hearing chirrups. I took them as birds and was imagining if I was in heaven but later my ears started working and they were actually humans talking.

I started shaking my head and someone near me shouted "Arre he is alive".

I was picked up by a few people and I screamed in pain. The worst pain imaginable. It was my leg.

Then they told me that I was lying by side of a valley and they first thought I was dead. Because of my leg.
From my toe to my knee my bone was visible.
I had been there for a day.
Had no idea where my parents were.
"Why didn't I die?" I thought.
Pain killed my hunger. Lucky me, people near me were starving.

People would make a group and go higher on hills looking for food packets dropped by military.
But nothing was dropped that day.

I went unconscious umpteen times.
On day 3 rain stopped and packets of food were dropped by helicopters.
No one offered me food. Then a Sardar (assuming from his voice) gave me a bread loaf.

Holding it gave me pain.
Chewing it gave me pain.
Swallowing it gave me pain.
Crying in pain gave me pain.

By evening, rescue team was there. They were not starving so did something human and first picked me up. I remember being picked up by a stretcher and getting an oxygen mask on my face.

Next I woke up in a hospital in Dehradun. My parents had found me.
And my leg had lost me.

*To be continued*

~ Chand Sethi

Post #73 : The diary of a Blindman (*3)

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