Chal yaar aaj party karte hai!!! It was one of those nights after a long night shift. They were all drained, but someone said, “Let’s just chill for some time.” That was enough.
He rode his bike with them to a friend’s place in Ulwe, Navi Mumbai. The clock had slipped past midnight, but who cared? They had stories, office dramas, petty politics, everything to laugh and bite nails at. Someone produced a full bottle of whisky, a packet of cigarettes, and chakna. The room filled with voices. Hindi songs, Tamil songs, Malayalam songs, sang everything, sometimes out of tune, sometimes loud enough for the neighbours to complain. In those moments, none of that mattered. Everyone thought they were Kishore Kumar, KK, and Justin Bieber. At times, Snopp Dogg crawled out of each one, adding a cherry on top.
Hours flew. Someone glanced at the clock, 3:30, almost 4 a.m. One of them leaned over and said, “Don’t go home now. Stay here, sleep, leave in the morning.”
He shook his head. “No, yaar. I just want to get home, lie down in my own bed, and sleep without disturbance. And don’t worry, tera bhai ko kuch nahi hua. Woh sher hai.”
Against all advice, he started the bike and left. Ten minutes down the road bike coughed, limped and died. Out of petrol. He laughed at himself for a second — stupid, yes — then the world tilted. His legs wouldn’t obey, his vision blurred. He couldn’t even push the bike.
He tried calling his wife. His hands trembled. His voice cracked, “I… I don’t know what to do. I can’t… I can’t manage.” Fear wrapped itself around him. Then nothing. Darkness.
He woke to sunlight stabbing his eyes. Voices. It was 11 a.m. A crowd had gathered. His bike lay abandoned; his bag was on the road; his phone and wallet lay beside him. A kind cobbler stood guard over his things so no one would touch them.
Two familiar faces pushed through the crowd — his best friends. They lifted him. Rahul helped him up; Jithin, apologetic, stood there in his formal clothes and with slippers on. Rahul said nothing dramatic, only that he’d take care of him. Jithin left for work in his slippers. Prashant arrived next; they cleaned him up and got him home.
By 1 p.m., he was home. His wife’s eyes met his, and the room filled with a silence that spoke louder than any scolding: fear, anger, concern — and under it all, love. The kids were at school, but he imagined their faces if they had seen him like that. The thoughts of what happened suffocated him.
His wife had opened the door with tears in her eyes. Rahul and Prashant sat with him and asked, gentle but fierce, “What is wrong with you? Is something bothering you? Don’t ever be so reckless.” They left after, but later his wife told him how worried she’d been — she sensed something was wrong when he called early in the morning, and when he didn’t return by 9 a.m., she rang Rahul and told him about her husband calling her from Ulwe early morning and hadn’t reached home yet. He started looking and stopped only when he found the crowd and his best friend lying on the road.
Before leaving, Rahul said. “Remember this day. Be careful next time, or else we won’t keep any relations with you. Don’t ever do this again.”
That evening, Jithin called, voice heavy, “Are you okay, my friend? Do you know where you were lying? Trucks pass here every morning. You could’ve been crushed!” He told him the cobbler had rung him from the emergency list to say the owner of the phone was down on the road.
He had no words, only shame. His throat was dry, his body numb. He apologized. He showered. He fell into a deep, guilty sleep.
But underneath everything was gratitude. Grateful that he was alive. Grateful his family still had him.
Even now, when he rides past Ulwe, he slows down. His eyes sting. That stretch of road could have been his last memory. Every time he passes it he whispers to himself, soft and steady: “Don’t repeat this mistake.”
He carried a deep realization: though he rarely named it aloud, he was precious to his family. Humbled by his behaviour, he made sure never to look back.
“Now tell me — am I talking about myself, or could this be you? If we are curious to find who He or Him really is, then perhaps it’s time we looked deeper into ourselves to know who we truly are.” Hmm- phir bhi kaun hoga? LOL
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