Another scooter was coming towards me. Suddenly I saw a stray dog lunging agressively towards the scooter - barking furiously. Then the horror - the old lady who was riding pillion fell off the scooter. I saw her hands splayed out and the sight of her body hitting the road.
Then a whirr of events. The lady driving the scooter stopped and ran back. A few people came running from the sidelines. I think I briefly drove my scooter toward the horror of a dog to scare him off - and then ran over to help. The lady was laying on the road with her eyes opened but glazed. Someone called for water so I ran and opened the office and got a glass-full.
When I returned the old lady was sitting up. There was blood on the road. Someone had brought a lota of water, but she could not drink from it. She drank a bit from my glass and then a car was found for her to take her to the hospital. The younger lady gave instructions to a man to put the scooter away. The doors were opened and the old lady bundled inside. Seconds later the car had left. The scooter was pushed away to be parked. The small crowd dwindled.
Only the small pool of blood remained. And some water splashes on the ground.
Later in the morning I saw other dogs sniffing at the dried blood.
In the afternoon all that remained was the faintest of a stain.
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A day later there is no memory, no visual clue to what happened yesterday morning. Busses and cycles have passed over the place. The sun has risen and fallen. People have come and gone. The evening bhelpuri has been eaten. The morning papers have been delivered.
Where is memory hosted? What layers of the specific incidents of the past are plastered over the geography of the present? What is the link between our experiences then and now and what lies ahead?
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