The Accident

Ishan held his old phone with a cracked screen, the screen flickering as he replied to his mother's anxious queries call.

"Ma, I'm on my way. I'll be there in an hour," Ishan said, trying to sound cheerful.

"Okay, beta, but don't forget to eat something. You haven't been taking care of yourself," his mother worried.

"Yes, Ma, I have eaten plenty," Ishan lied, knowing she'd fret if he told the truth. He couldn't afford lunch today.

"How's your day going?" she asked.

"It's fine, Ma. Just busy with work," Ishan replied, hiding his frustration but in his mind he wanted to let out the frustration

'Just ten minutes to the bus stand, thirty minutes to home, and then I can collapse onto my bed, only to repeat this shitty day job tomorrow.'

"Ishan, don't work too hard," his mother cautioned. "Your health is important."

"I won't, Ma. Don't worry," Ishan reassured her.

The line went dead as his phone's battery gave out.

"Fuck my life," Ishan muttered, shoving the phone into his pocket.

He couldn't help but think about what could've been. He'd topped his class, earned scholarships to study abroad, but his father's medical emergency had derailed those dreams.

Now, he was stuck as a junior salesman, barely scraping by on twenty-five thousand rupees a month.

As he strolled, Ishan's mind drifted, and he began humming "Suhana Safar Aur Yeh Mausam Haseen," a timeless Bollywood melody.

"Turn twenty-three this month... still alone," he thought aloud, his voice barely audible over the hum. "Ma, Papa, and Rohan love me, but it's not the same. I need someone to share my life with, someone to laugh with, cry with... someone to hold."

He missed a beat in the song, his thoughts overriding the lyrics. "Why can't I find her? Is it my skinny frame? Do girls really care about abs and biceps?"

Ishan chuckled wryly, injecting his own lyrics into the song: "Koi mere liye bhi hai, koi mere liye bhi..." (Someone's there for me too, someone's there for me too...)

He resumed the original tune, his voice trailing off as his thoughts persisted. "I really need a girlfriend. How long can I keep using my own hand as a companion?" He shook his head, dismissing the thought.

Suddenly, a deafening crash shattered the serenity. A car had slammed into the electric pole beside him, engulfing the vehicle in flames.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" Ishan exclaimed.

Through the smoke-filled windows, he spotted a shadow in the backseat struggling to escape. Without hesitation, Ishan sprinted toward the inferno.

"No time to think," he muttered, yanking open the door.

The heat was intense, but Ishan persevered, grabbing the person and pulling them out. Coughing, he stumbled backward, the rescued individual collapsing onto the pavement.

Ishan bent to check on them, his heart still racing. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly.

Ishan handed over his water bottle and bag, cautioning, "Drink the water, but don't spill it on the laptop. My manager will kill me if any damage happens to it."

The old man, likely in his 70s, grasped Ishan's hand, his breathing labored.

"Wait, old man, there's still someone inside," Ishan exclaimed, before jumping back into the inferno.

Flames engulfed the car, the door scorching hot. Undeterred, Ishan removed his shirt, using it to protect his hands as he yanked open the door. The driver stumbled out, smoke-choked.

Summoning all his strength, Ishan pulled the stout driver away from the burning wreckage. He brought him beside the old man.

"Hi, old man, did you save some water for the poor chap, or drink it all?" Ishan asked, handing the bottle to the driver.

"There's still some left," the old man replied.

The driver gulped the water, soothing his smoke-scorched throat.

"Hey! Even I got some smoke inside my lungs while. Hand me the bottle, will you?', he said taking the bottle from the driver's hand. Ishan finally quenched his own thirst.

As he picked up the old man's phone, covered in gold, Ishan's thoughts wavered. 'This could cover most of Baba's medical expenses.'

But his mother's teachings prevailed; stealing wasn't an option.

He dialed the nearby hospital's emergency number. "An ambulance will arrive soon. If you'll excuse me, I have a bus to catch."

Buttoning his burned shirt, Ishan bid farewell and sprinted toward the bus stand, leaving behind the commotion.