Two lines and the Doppler theory

The rules of the contest was to write a 1200 word story using these five words-

L-plate, Railway track, Padlock, Dog, Scissors. I am the only Indian in this anthology. This is what I wrote:

The brewing storm of the late afternoon amplified the desolation, concocting a perfect setting for hapless souls like myself to wallow in retrospection.

            I walked along the railway track. Taking the left rail first, I balance-walked, hands stretched out, foot-by-foot, until I counted 300 strides. Then I switched to the right rail. 1-2-3-….. Piggybacking came happy childhood memories, the excited shrieks and hysterical giggles as we struggled to balance as if we needed L-plates dangling from our necks. We’d count how many strides one could do at one go.... I shut it out. Walking on the rails at such times was a cathartic exercise I desperately needed... It succeeded in arresting the unregulated flux of thoughts and unbidden memories. 

            This lonely track passed through a roofless tunnel of stonewalls and was more than a screaming distance from the lonely highway. The air hung with the scent of wild flowers and-….I tripped on the 122^nd step, at the unexpected commotion. A dog came running towards me, yelping! I followed as it turned around and sprinted along the track, which now turned sharply right. I almost tripped over a man lying on the track as his black Labrador circled around him, still yapping!

            He was as surprised as I was to find another human being in that lifeless place. I was also cross at his presence as he was also hampering my agenda.

“What do you think you are doing here?” I demanded as if I had the sole claim to the misery of the place. “Get up!….Don’t you know?... A train is due on these tracks in a few minutes from now.”

            “Get lost..” He said gruffly, turning away but not getting up.”Of course, I know that!”

            “You mean-?” I was staring down at a potential suicide. Other telltale signs began to dawn on my senses. The unshaven, devastated face, the shabby clothes, shifting vacant eyes and most pitifully, his bankrupt soul. Empathy flooded me.

            “GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE...Leave me alone...,”he bellowed in a trembling voice that beseeched company. Catch-22! Should I honor his choice and leave him to die or assist this unhappy soul out of despair? Had I ever known him, his life, disappointments and travails, judgmentally enough to sermon him against taking his life? I had to get my perspective right. Sort out life’s philosophy in less than twelve minutes!

            “Attempting suicide is culpable....” I started, fumbling for words, groping for any rationale in my own miserable life that would bolster my voice with enough fervor to talk him out of suicide.

            “I told you, don’t bother.” He spat out. His tears began to flow freely now. I realized I was crying too. I had found a soul mate: someone caught so deeply in grief, justifiable enough to run away forever.

            He then went quiet. Spread-eagled on the tracks he was oblivious to anything other than his despair. 10 minutes. The swish of grass, the strange cries of unknown insects and was it from memory that I heard laughter, in abandon? I saw the first star and realized that the tornado was passing off.  

I lay down on the track beside him.

            “What on earth?...so you’re going to kill yourself too?” It was his turn to feel exclusive kinsmen ship with misery.

            “……….” Honestly, I was yet undecided between yes and no.

            “Now this is ridiculous... get off the tracks. Someone this young can’t be that unhappy….I-” I wanted him to get it off his chest. “ Lost everything... Wife left me for a richer man... kids don’t know me... I got fired and now am disowned because of a crime I never committed. I have no one-NO ONE! Got that? At least let me die in peace.” My storm was passing. I could see the clear, beautiful sky, the winking stars and the stealthy moon. I wanted him out of his tempest. 8 minutes.

            “Now, you shut up. What right have you over my life? Young, eh? Are you blind to this frail and battered body? Of course you wouldn’t know the pain of surgery, chemo and worst, of the knowledge that you MUST let go, even if unwillingly.” I saw the first glint of emotion in those feelingless eyes.

 “Are you dying of cancer?” He began trying. I had to drag him.

“Yes. And believe me; the mental agony is worse than the physical pain.” I let him listen to my trembling voice and stare at my tear-filled eyes.

“But man, I’m not even free to make my own choices any more. But if I could, well, do you think you would see cowardice here...” I blinked, hoping he’d read my words and not my eyes…. “Don’t you see man, you are still free…You’re alive and can make a choice to die, if you want to…but I…I’m dying...with no choice...Can’t live even if I hungrily wanted to….” I choked…That was the closest I had ever come to self-realization or confession.

“You know, you are right!” His storm was passing...“Yes, I have freedom over myself.... I can live all over again.” He was nodding as we heard the whistle of the approaching train. Six minutes to get off the track.

“Well, get up.” I stood up, thrusting out a hand as helplessness engulfed him. I then discovered in horror that he had chained himself to the rails with a padlock!

“Oh God! Gimme the key.’ My hand hung in mid air. “The key, man!”

“I threw it away into the bushes.” He was desperately rattling the chain. I looked over into the bleak darkness that engulfed the bushes and found a pair of rusted scissors Absurdly, I tried prying the chain links with it and alternately yanked at the chain.

As the hum of the train began to grow, the dog came on to the scene, breathless. I hadn’t even noticed it was missing. But then, he dropped the key by me!

Snatching it, I knelt, fumbling at the lock as the train came in full view. The next blessed second he was thrown off, free!

His dog was all over him in his joy, as I lay exhausted by the side of the running train. School days came rushing back.

‘How do you shorten a line without touching it?”

“Draw a longer line beside it!” Whose line was longer? His or mine? I had lengthened his and also mine. I had been scouting these tracks with a parallel intention:but for our encounter, I would have succeeded today. For the present, we had equalized.

“What’s the Doppler Effect?”

“...The pitch of the whistle of an approaching train gets louder, and as the train passes off, the pitch fades off too!”  The pitch of desperation...the darkest moods...The crescendos were passé. An hour ago, there was nothing except the hounding loan sharks..Mother had left, succumbing to cancer even as I had suffered alongside her, throughout. Deeply enough to convince him I had cancer!

But for now, the air had cleared. This man was the sane breath that blew off my frenzied pitch, averting me from being a casualty on these railway tracks. I had pulled him out of his despair. I wouldn’t be going back, but he might still.. But at least for today, we were alive.