Birth is something like an ill planned natural accident,the world has the freedom to consider me enough eccentric for I am using the same adjectives to describe the other extreme or the end of it, what we again loosely term death.And in the middle of one fine day when you least expect it you get to ride on the road to the grave and yet be fortunate enough to come back home.
Rules they say are made and meant only to be broken,while driving especially.We took turns left and right, crossing signals we moved along with the rush of vehicles.Suddenly from a wisp of air she appeared right in the front at an inch distance from us,we greeted her after we overtook a snail paced bus from the wrong but much used side and fortunately for her and especially for us the brakes worked at the right time.We did nothing but look at her and meanwhile a speeding bike brushed past like a kissing catastrophe.
Eyes met,”Oh well are the roads only for you people to run, race and ride?” so said her stare.
We managed to move aside; hearts skipping beats and we stood their looking at her standing still,serene and untouched.Looking at the huddle I wondered in my usual thought pit stop,"Why an innocent die in a run over?".
Only if we men realize earth is the ONE home for ALL.