I am five years old at the age of 48
May 7th, 2009 by Jaspal Singh
I have now lived 48 years, but my age should actually be five, as as this is my second lifetime in this birth.
In those critical moments I just could remember the nursing home where my son was born; I was made to wait outside the police chowky in the platform. A gentleman came out from the onlookers and asked me to take care of myself (as per him the police was waiting for me to die - ‘dum todne ka intezaar kar rahe hain”)
“Sardar, aaj tu gaya” were the last words I heard before they pushed me off the running train as it was negotiating a bend between Borivali and Kandivali. The spot was just before the ‘khayi’ – I should actually have fallen into the water. There would have been no trace of me. January 30, 2004 was the fateful day.
I am an Aircraft Maintenance Engineer and there was a flight in the next one hour and I was to clear the helicopter for takeoff. I was proceeding to Juhu airfield. I boarded the train at Borivali – for an early morning train it was pretty crowded and I was keen to catch the train – there was no willingness to yield on the part of those standing at the threshold. I literally begged them to let me board but no one even moved an inch. Short of touching their feet in salutation, I asked them again to let me enter. As the train was about to start, one amongst them moved a bit and permitted me to board.
This was not appreciated by the others and they started jostling. My left hand was firmly gripping the door handle. The pushing increased as the train was accelerating. I requested them to let me go inside at least but they were quite unwilling. That was the time I heard one of them utter “you’re gone today” and I fell off the train.
My turban saved me from death
I knew immediately that I was deeply hurt. My white uniform shirt was soaked in fresh blood. I was also aware that the next train would be along any minute. I tried to scramble but I could not move. I was happy to see a few labourers working on the rail tracks. They were so scared to come near me that it took them some time to realise that I was not dead! I pleaded with them to use my turban as a bandage over my head, which they did. They also stopped the inbound train. The motorman was a Sikh gentleman. I do not know his name even today, but he was so considerate that not only did he pick me up from that spot but he also dropped me off at Borivali, right in front of the Police chowky – in the safe hands of the police.
I landed up in a maternity home with my head split into two and blood flowing like water
After the gentleman warned me outside the police chowky on the Borivali platform I was surely in a daze. I slowly got up and I asked the police whether I could use their office telephone. The policeman on duty was rather nasty in telling me that the telephone was unusable and that outgoing calls were not possible, but he was kind enough to give me a one rupee coin for a call from the nearby public booth.
Someone led me to the nearest telephone. I called my wife and told her to come over to the Indira Nursing Home at Mira Road where our son was born. I went out and looked for an auto rickshaw – many refused to stop, but one of them was kind enough to take me. He stopped his rickshaw at Dahisar toll naka - the city border, took me across the naka, and put me on another rickshaw to take me to Mira Road.
The rest was truly a rebirth. I passed out as soon as I saw the familiar faces of Dr. Madhu Vyas and her doctor husband Dr. Rakesh Vyas. Over the next two months the wound not only healed well, but but I was even able to return to my regular duty as well.
Keeping cool and retaining my presence of mind, even under those nightmarish circumstances, came to me spontaneously as a result of the safety drills I followed as an aviator.
Now, the magical figure of a half-century of life is approaching. Today I am enjoying the company of my near and dear ones while enjoying the luxury of a second life given to me by my Guru because of my PAGDI.
My beloved GURU's gift of my Dastar protected my head better than a helmet and it served as a bandage around my injured head. It is all possible because of lovely blessings of almighty Waheguru. Yama, the fearful god of death, had a hearty laugh at me.
Dhan Guru Nanak Dev Ji!
May 7th, 2009 by Jaspal Singh
I have now lived 48 years, but my age should actually be five, as as this is my second lifetime in this birth.
In those critical moments I just could remember the nursing home where my son was born; I was made to wait outside the police chowky in the platform. A gentleman came out from the onlookers and asked me to take care of myself (as per him the police was waiting for me to die - ‘dum todne ka intezaar kar rahe hain”)
“Sardar, aaj tu gaya” were the last words I heard before they pushed me off the running train as it was negotiating a bend between Borivali and Kandivali. The spot was just before the ‘khayi’ – I should actually have fallen into the water. There would have been no trace of me. January 30, 2004 was the fateful day.
I am an Aircraft Maintenance Engineer and there was a flight in the next one hour and I was to clear the helicopter for takeoff. I was proceeding to Juhu airfield. I boarded the train at Borivali – for an early morning train it was pretty crowded and I was keen to catch the train – there was no willingness to yield on the part of those standing at the threshold. I literally begged them to let me board but no one even moved an inch. Short of touching their feet in salutation, I asked them again to let me enter. As the train was about to start, one amongst them moved a bit and permitted me to board.
This was not appreciated by the others and they started jostling. My left hand was firmly gripping the door handle. The pushing increased as the train was accelerating. I requested them to let me go inside at least but they were quite unwilling. That was the time I heard one of them utter “you’re gone today” and I fell off the train.
My turban saved me from death
I knew immediately that I was deeply hurt. My white uniform shirt was soaked in fresh blood. I was also aware that the next train would be along any minute. I tried to scramble but I could not move. I was happy to see a few labourers working on the rail tracks. They were so scared to come near me that it took them some time to realise that I was not dead! I pleaded with them to use my turban as a bandage over my head, which they did. They also stopped the inbound train. The motorman was a Sikh gentleman. I do not know his name even today, but he was so considerate that not only did he pick me up from that spot but he also dropped me off at Borivali, right in front of the Police chowky – in the safe hands of the police.
I landed up in a maternity home with my head split into two and blood flowing like water
After the gentleman warned me outside the police chowky on the Borivali platform I was surely in a daze. I slowly got up and I asked the police whether I could use their office telephone. The policeman on duty was rather nasty in telling me that the telephone was unusable and that outgoing calls were not possible, but he was kind enough to give me a one rupee coin for a call from the nearby public booth.
Someone led me to the nearest telephone. I called my wife and told her to come over to the Indira Nursing Home at Mira Road where our son was born. I went out and looked for an auto rickshaw – many refused to stop, but one of them was kind enough to take me. He stopped his rickshaw at Dahisar toll naka - the city border, took me across the naka, and put me on another rickshaw to take me to Mira Road.
The rest was truly a rebirth. I passed out as soon as I saw the familiar faces of Dr. Madhu Vyas and her doctor husband Dr. Rakesh Vyas. Over the next two months the wound not only healed well, but but I was even able to return to my regular duty as well.
Keeping cool and retaining my presence of mind, even under those nightmarish circumstances, came to me spontaneously as a result of the safety drills I followed as an aviator.
Now, the magical figure of a half-century of life is approaching. Today I am enjoying the company of my near and dear ones while enjoying the luxury of a second life given to me by my Guru because of my PAGDI.
My beloved GURU's gift of my Dastar protected my head better than a helmet and it served as a bandage around my injured head. It is all possible because of lovely blessings of almighty Waheguru. Yama, the fearful god of death, had a hearty laugh at me.
Dhan Guru Nanak Dev Ji!
The story about your mother Gyani also -- incredible. She was a handful. Nothing frightened her did it? We want MORE stories about your mother and your father. :yes::yes::yes::yes::yes: