In August 2013, I was driving home with my family and dad when the car hit a culvert and fell 15 feet into knee-deep water, upside down. I had dozed off momentarily. When I felt sleepy I had stopped at a dhaba , spent some time with my kids and had tea to ward off sleep. But half an hour later, sleep returned.
Four of my vertebrae were damaged, and my right hand was paralysed. Two of my ribs broke and pierced my left lung. My wife got a cut on her head, and one of her vertebra had a hairline fracture. By God’s grace nothing happened to my kids.
I underwent two surgical procedures and my wife was treated conservatively. Both of us are limping back to normalcy.
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My father got a hit on his head and his left hand was fractured. Since he was on anti-coagulants the hit caused internal bleeding, impacting brain function. He was sent home after a surprising recovery from the critical condition. But after a few days he had to be readmitted and treated for sepsis. After three weeks the hospital turned him home, ruling out all hope of survival. We created an ICU kind of arrangement at home and my father was taken care of by nurses round-the-clock. After fighting gallantly, my father succumbed.
Anybody who had seen my mangled car would be surprised to know that anyone had survived. Such was the intensity of the fall.
Today I live to share our experience by the grace of a 27-year-old man, Srikanth Reddy. He was behind us in his car when we fell. He immediately stopped his car and without a second thought called the ambulance at 108, came down the slope, despite slipping into the bramble and the water. My father and I were unconscious and my wife was shocked and speechless. Seeing that he alone couldn’t do anything, he stopped a passing van. Meanwhile, a car that was ahead of us came back noticing the headlights suddenly dancing and disappearing.
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Ahmad and his brother were returning home in their van, and Ram Reddy in the car ahead of us was heading for the airport to help his relatives catch an international flight. Srikanth Reddy, with the help of these people, broke open the doors, pulled us out, carried us up the steep slope and put us in the ambulance, which had by then arrived. While ensuring this, he made my daughter call my brother and other relatives and kept them informed. He then asked my daughter to remove the gold we had on us and made her keep them in a bag and hold it.
He then took us to hospital, initiated investigations and saw that X-rays and scans were done. He paid for our tests, submitting his credit card. By the time my brother and others could arrive at the hospital it was clear that we needed to undergo surgical procedures and that the hospital was not equipped enough. From there on my brother took over and admitted us in a larger hospital.
I was later told by the doctor that the swiftness with which, and the mode in which, we were brought to the hospital were critical to our survival. If my neck were left to hang for a longer period, the damage to my right hand would have been irreversible.
All that was done by Srikanth Reddy, as my daughter and brother described to me later. After my discharge from hospital I wanted to thank him, but no one had his number. My brother and others were in a hurry to get us admitted to another hospital and it did not occur to them to take his number at that hour. I made all efforts to get his number — sent a friend to the hospital that he took us initially to see if they had taken down Srikanth’s number for reference, wrote to an FM radio channel requesting them to help me by airing my story and tried other means — all in vain.
One day my co-brother told us that the people who had pulled us out from the accident site had called him to enquire about our condition: it was Srikanth Reddy. I took the number and called and thanked him, expressing my desire to thank him personally. In the condition that we were in he refused to give his address and instead came along with his family two days later to see and wish us. Such is his magnanimity that he and his wife call us even to this day and give us some encouraging thoughts. A rare creed.
ravi.rudroj@gmail.com