He was dead. For a day. Two days? I, too, do not recall. This was days after the blasts. In a crowded area where cars, buses ply, and people walk about reaching destinations, a cabbie’s body went unnoticed. Had he been a victim, he might have been seen.
The concerned city kills people everyday. It does not bring out the bombs, the knives, the guns. It probably does not do a thing. Mortality is natural. The killing happens when human beings become invisible.
Look at him. Sitting. Seems like he has fallen asleep. In a vehicle he drove to earn his keep. Suffered a cardiac arrest. And slumped. People passed. Cars passed. Buses passed. His cab stayed there. No one came to tow it away. Perhaps he was in a parking zone.
What were his thoughts? You won’t hear stories about him – how he went to work and had plans for life. I know his story. It had a beginning and an end. There was no middle. Nothing to connect the two extremes.
Today’s papers mentioned a family of four. Three of them died. The fourth – a daughter in her 30s – survived. She was walking around talking about the others being in deep slumber. Unstable she is, they said. They had kept themselves away from the world, did not go out, meet people. Psychologists say it can be fatal.
What is not fatal? You go out. Fatal. You drive. Fatal. You walk. Fatal. Your travel. Fatal. You eat. Fatal. You drink. Fatal. You smoke. Fatal. You sleep. Fatal;. You dream. Fatal. Everything can be fatal if it is in limbo or caught in circumstances.
Man in cab dead. A family at home dead. Life bustles outside. Clouds burst. Rain falls. The glass blurs. Eyes formulate tearful queries. Questions are fatal.