mine is a torn ligament in my left knee.
messed up sometime in the late 1997 at pune university.
there is this nice slope, i thought its a good place to test my cyclocomputer which
was newly installed. another given plus were that there were some aerodynamic chicks hangin around.
i put the pedal to the metal, i gain good speed, enroute there is this small speed breaker. my mind thinks lighting fast, lift the front wheel land on other side of
the speed breaker, chicks will be impressed. blow kisses in the air. but alas, my reflexes were slower than molasses. i lift the wheel just as it hit the speed breaker, all hell breaks loose.
its all a haze, but i remember that my tires were looking skyward, with me doing a superman hanging on to the bars for dear life.
i'm airborne for a couple of seconds, covered probably 6-7 feet in the air, land on my left foot, i hear a weird noise just as i land from my knee. a blunt pain
follows,i keep tumbling for sometime, in the process i see my bike doing multiple somersaults. trust me that really was painful to see my bike taking a beating.
everything stops. there is almost 20 to 25 feet distance between me and my bike, i tried to get up, but nah. my knee was swollen it almost looked like a knee pad.
my friend who was following me, brought the bike closer to me, i felt better, but only momentarily, i notice a twisted front fork, bent handlebars, but
the cyclocomputer was alright ! thank god for small mercies !
i was lying on the road for quite sometime. finally the very chicks i was tryin to impress, comes up to me and asks " are you okay? you need any help?! " i said "i'm
fine". kahan fine yaar. yahan pe to lagi padi hai. one of them asks " are you sure?!" i said "yeah, will be okay in a few minutes"
and they walk away.
impressed? ya right !
while they were walking away i muttered to my friend " arre yaar.. chale gaye woh.."
he gave me one whack on my head and gave me the most colorful of gaalis that i wont be forgetting soon.
back to my knee, it was like a mini hot air balloon. meanwhile one good chap/uncle/aunty/granma in a black santro, i still dont know who he/she/it is drives
by me, goes all the way till univ. main gate, calls a rick, comes back to the site, and leaves. thanks to who ever that was! i get in the rick. go to this wretched hospital close to home. i could
barely fold my knee, this quack of a m#$%#$F#$$er, asks me to relax my leg and folds it with all his might. i yelled like a bad loud speaker on steroids and i'm sure that
was when the bacha-kucha ligament must have exploded. C^%^$ya docktar.
i could bear everything. the pain of the knee, the pain of seeing my bike in a mess
( even my mom when looked at the bike said "paavam cycle" translation - poor bike, first time in her life ! ) what i couldnt bear, was...er.we didn't have a western
style toilet in our bathroom. i had to umm.. y'know, Squat to do the business. which i barely managed to do with some ingeniuity. i dangled from the tubes and pipes that
were jutting out with both my hands, and when finally it was time to 'finish' it off, i had to let go off one of my hands, DAMN ! balancing on one hand and one leg,
with the pain going right upto my hair strand was the stuff that could be aired on discovery channels " i shouldn't have been alive "
sorry for the long post. i thought i should share. i miss my old knee when the ligament was okay, when i see pics from my childhood. i love you knee. i do !











