“Shazib SHUT UP” My dad cried back.
I had finally learnt my lesson and I did as I was told. I continued to amuse myself the best I could and my brothers and I tried to synchronise their watches with the car clock.
After this a bit of the event is blurry, my brother later told me that the driver of the truck in front of us had slowed down, my dad had tried to slow down but it was too late we had caught the rear side of the truck (this is where I start recalling what happened). We were toppling in the air(or atleast it felt as though we were) when my brother tried to pull me out (he recalls) but all the movement prevented him from doing so. Now a few seconds and somersaults later we were lying in what was left of our car my brothers, Ashhad and Kaiser, and I managed to crawl out. This left my dad and his friend in the car and since there is no such thing as fire and rescue service in Pakistan the crowd that had gathered around us was trying to put the car in its normal position. They could not get my dad and his friend (who were both unconscious) out because they were trapped. The only way to get them out was to get the car in its normal position this took a long time.
Mean while my brothers had started to cry, they were swearing at the truck driver (who had long gone) I decided to join them even though I had no idea why they were doing this. Then out of nowhere a man came up to us and handed my eldest brother my dad’s wallet. I found this extremely unusual, as I would not expect someone to do that. My brother found my dads watch witch had cracked and stopped.
Finally after about 20 agonising minutes we were on our way to the hospital with both of the grown ups. I can’t remember how long we stayed in the hospital but it was a long time. My dad had an operation done on his arm and his friend lost the better parts of his middle and index finger we on the other hand escaped with minor cuts and bruises.
The person who had surprisingly found my dad’s wallet and delivered us to the hospital had been amazed that we had survived. At first I did not understand why but later as we drove past the twisted piece of metal that was our car I realised why.
When we got home the taxi driver refused to take the money that we owed him. However my dad persuaded him to take it. Even though I did not see this as something significant at the time as I look back now I feel that even after going through all this my dad was still mentally strong. On the other hand his physical condition is best described by my mom’s reaction to the event. When she opened the door and we walked in she just stood there, mouth wide open and the colour of her face as white as milk. She like the rest of us had never seen Dad so helpless, his arms were bandaged and he was walking very slowly. Hopefully I will never see my dad like that again.
Whilst my dad had been driving he had his hand outside of the car this wasn’t unusual in Pakistan because it is very hot and humid. When the car had crashed the glass from the broken windscreen had apparently got into his arm. Days later we were still finding pieces of glass in his arm someone had not done their job properly.
My family still does not talk about that evening, much but from time to time I find my dads watch which he wore that day. It looks back at me and says don’t forget what happened at 6:20 pm on the 29th of August 1995.
