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a piece of my mind

He deserved atleast a drop of tear

During my college days, not so long ago, about 1-2 years back, I took a course from a professor. He was a very good guy. I remember the days when he used to come to class and talk about his lessons, only to me. It was as if he took the classes only for me and another girl in the class. Not because he didn’t care about anyone else in class, but, only because the rest would be occupied in some other work and he was too kind and gentle to tell anything to them, except crack a joke sometime. That we would not find very much amusing, but still, would give a chuckle. He has given us free hours, attendance, and marks too. 

Last Sunday, during our convocation ceremony, he had an accident near our university. I had not gone to the convocation, also, I did not find out about this incident, till evening, that day. When I saw the message in a whatsapp group, I was not quite sure if it were him. But then, it dawned upon me. But, I was too distracted to give it a second thought. I simple felt sad for him and continues my work after 10 minutes. 

This Monday morning, when I was traveling in the bus, to my office. From nowhere, I thought about him and I do not know how to explain that feeling. It is actually inexplicable. A heavy heart, with most eyes, looking at the fast passing grassland on my left side, in a cool climate. I was also hearing to some songs, soft and slow. I could not help but think about his family, and him. 

Seems, he was on a motorbike. That beast is made for death. My father never let me buy a motorbike and also, I never stressed on owing a motorcycle. As I am a little bit scared of it too. But, what had happened is long gone and I pray that his death was pain free, as I heard that he died on the spot. I wish, it was instant and painless. He did not deserve to suffer. I will miss you sir. And I did not realise it until I felt a drop of tear roll down my cheeks, only to be dabbed by me, the very instant, in my kerchief. 

And if you read my previous post, you would know how I got a new motorbike (kind of “free”). It is ironic that my fear for that machine grows over time. 

Click here for the motorbike post. 

By A lost Soul at Sea

a passionate writer who also happens to be a mechanical engineer and a sailor

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