It was quite characteristic of the generation in India born during mid-20th century to join and retire in the same organization. Job hopping was something unheard of during those times. My dad was not different. As far as I remember, he worked throughout his life in Dhanalakshmi Bank in Kerala. By the time I was in Grade ten in 1995, dad was working in Thiruvalla branch of the bank. It was about ten kilometres from our home at Changanacherry. He used to ride a red Kinetic Honda we had at that time.
Unlike banking these days, every employee used to leave office at 5 PM in the evening. On that uneventful day, on 29 June, as usual dad was on his way back from the bank. His routine was to head to Adens, our shop at Changanacherry, pick up mom and drop her home where I awaited them along with my grandpa. Dad would then have a quick tea and headed back to the shop where he spent time engaging the customers till around 9 PM.
A few meters before reaching Adens, there was a blind curve on the state highway which had to be approached carefully. Being the main state highway, it was a remarkably busy road, sometimes putting the National Highways to shame. Buses and trucks zipped through that road as though there were no speed limits. This curve was so infamous since lot of accidents had happened there and a few precious lives were lost as well.
Dad was neither a rash driver nor a fast one. But as destiny would have its last word, on that day as he was approaching the blind curve there was an ominous white colour Ambassador car trailing him. Dad gave way to the car and was on the edge of the road. Everything happened in the blink of an eye. He only remembered hitting the road and that too to the right side where usually an onslaught of vehicles was expected including high speed buses and trucks carrying death warrants with them. It was his sheer luck and blessing from the above that dad did not have to face any of this oncoming traffic at that moment. I dare not imagine what would have been the case otherwise.
Dad immediately got up and looked at his right hand. What he saw was terrifying to say the least. In place of his palm, he saw a mangled shape of something fully covered in blood. Till today I do not know if it was the absolute state of shock he must have been or his legendary resilience that helped him not lose his consciousness. It was later known that the car driver was drunk, and he hit dad’s bike resulting in the severe injury.
After one whole month of being admitted in Kottayam Medical College hospital, multiple surgeries including skin grafting more than once, days of excruciating pain and mental agony, dad finally made it home one day. While mom got a large bowl of warm salt water to dip his hand, as a part of the treatment, dad removed the bandage on his right hand. It was time for me to be shocked. The hand that held me as a baby and later consoled me multiple times was not there anymore the way it was. He lost two of his fingers and half the palm!
The world got to know about the tragedy. Being a banker by profession, in the pre-computer era, all calculations were manual, and staff entered numbers on ledger books. Most of the people who met my dad after this accident predicted an end to his banking career. Many advised him to think about alternate career options and empathised with him for not able to drive the bike anymore. Dad proved them all wrong. He did not need any of that empathy.
Few months later he was back at his desk in Dhanalakshmi Bank and guess what, he drove to office on the same bike. It had to happen only this way since the calendars were to be replaced 28 more times before a point of no return was to transpire!
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