Renaissance

I could feel the cold freezing wind kissing my cheeks. I was lying on the doors of hell waiting to enter the other world. But hell as described in texts and fantasized by men was supposed to be a scorcher, a potboiler rather than a cold freezing world. I would be entering the Devil’s lair and feel the wrath of the dead. As I slowly opened my eyes in order to take a look at the place I was, I saw the dull grey sky right above me. I was lying down on the very same bridge I had jumped from……..or at least I had planned to. As I slowly stood up I could see the broken railing and the marks of my bike’s tyre on the snow as it had skidded over. My left foot was bruised. However I immediately rushed towards the broken railing. I was really concerned about the man whom I had seen on the bridge earlier. I wanted to make sure that he had not been harmed due to my inept act.

As I looked down the bridge, I could no longer see my bike. It must have been lying somewhere in the river bed. However what I saw instead immediately sent a shiver down my spines. The black overcoat the man was wearing was floating near the banks. I could not see whether the man was there too. I completely forgot about my bleeding leg as I walked down the bridge to reach the banks. My bleeding leg left a bloody trail on the snow indicating the path of the devil.

When I reached the banks, I was gripped with fear as I examined the black overcoat closely. It was floating along with the man to whom it had belonged. I dragged the body out from the freezing water. The man had no signs of injuries. Neither did he have a pulse. It was evident that he had fallen into the frozen river trying to avoid the bike as it skidded towards him.

I had murdered the man…………an innocent man. This was nothing short of a cold blooded murder which I had committed while trying to end my life. The fallacy was that the person who needed to die was still alive while the one who wanted to live was dead. Maybe that was what destiny had in store for both of us. I could hear the police cars speeding towards the bridge………. the sound of the sirens was unmistakable. Maybe my life would end up rotting in the prison.

As I have always said, destiny has something in store for all of us. It did not want me to rot in prison. The police enquiry lasted two days. Although I told them the truth about how the entire incident had happened, I purposely avoided speaking about my real intent as to why I had gone to the bridge on my bike.

The judgment was made really fast. The jury found me guilty of reckless driving. However on considering the status of my health and also the weather conditions when the accident had occurred, only a hefty fine was slapped on me. The media took utmost advantage of the whole incident.

The headlines of a leading newspaper on the day of my judgment read:

‘The Bulldozer destroys a man through reckless driving having destroyed his own career’.

The incident changed my life completely. I became determined not to end my life so soon. I wanted to do something for the man I had killed before I died. Through the police enquiry I found out that the man belonged to the nearby suburban town. His name was Mick Warnaby. Mick was the manager of the local football club named Eleven Bullets. He had taken the club to great heights. He had been the manager for the last six years. He had single handedly taken the club from the northern league to the second division championships. This year they were striving to enter the premier league. All the fans were confident that Mick and his boys could take the club into the premier league. But their dreams were prematurely shattered with Mick’s accident. The morale of the team was battered and premier league qualification seemed to be a long distant dream. They needed a manager who could instill confidence in them and help them to fight their way up. I was ready to do whatever was needed to serve the cause for which Mick had spent his last six years. Here for the first time I saw an opportunity to shine and rise up from the ashes. I could see what destiny probably had in store for me. This was a chance, one last chance to shine. This would also bring peace to my troubled mind knowing that I was working hard for a cause which Mick had masterminded before he died.

So, immediately I sent my application to the club for the job of the Manager. I strongly doubted whether the club would accept it. Strangely they accepted my application in spite of the fact that I did not possess a managerial license. I later learnt that due to the financial crisis the club was going through, no one else was willing to take up the role at that bargained price. The top managers had ruled out that Eleven Bullets did not have any chance of going up. So, I was appointed as manager of the club.

January 23^rd, the day that the country would remember as the coldest day in history of the land, was the biggest day of my life. The day when I was officially unveiled as the new manager for Eleven Bullets. In the press conference none of the premier journalists had turned up. The few that were present persistently kept on questioning about the decision of signing me as the manager.

The chairman defended his decision and showed me his utmost support. At the end of the press conference I went to the club training grounds for the first time. The conditions were pathetic. The entire pitch was frozen. The gymnasium did not have proper instruments. The players’ dressing room was a big mess. None of the players had appeared for training that day. Some of the fans, who had gathered at the training ground fighting the cold, started booing as soon as I arrived and greeted me with very colorful terms.

The job at hand was going to be very tough in the coming months. But the fact which was in my favor was that I was ready to battle once again. I was ready to face the challenge. All my frustrations and depressions seemed to fade away as I visited all the other club facilities. I had found a motive in life. This was what destiny had planned for me. I was ready to face life once again. I was determined to turn Eleven Bullets into a top club of the country. I wanted to achieve what Mick had never ever dreamt of. If I would be successful, only then Mick’s soul would forgive me.

Mick Warnaby had brought a renaissance in my life through his death.