Chapter : I shot myself

As the train swayed its lulled passengers, the man seated next to me pulled out a syringe and an insulin bottle from a small black pouch. The man seemed relaxed and calm as he uncapped the syringe revealing its 3 inch needle. He then filled the syringe with the insulin, untucked his shirt, faced towards the window that was flashing scenic village landscapes, it almost seemed some sort of a ritual that he had been practicing since ages. Till that point I had no clue what was in store, until he folded his stomach and shot the syringe into it, pushing the plunger slowly till the last drop of insulin got in. The man seemed in obvious physical pain while taking that shot, but did not emote it. Even if he would have, no one could see it. The man, a 57 year banker from Palakkad, Kerala was travelling to Pune for a RBI seminar. I learnt later that he was suffering from diabetes and insulin shots help him keep the blood sugar levels under control. The man has to take take that to keep him breathing, to see through the rest of his life that he has dreamt of. It’s a life no one would want to live or even think of.  It’s a berth that I do not want to reserve, for my journey of life. Who would want to? This writing is a part of the conituing series of the 32 hour discoveries, where I share the most craziest, funniest and weirdest of experiences. Read the other parts here… 32 hour discoveries – Part 1 – The toilet design 32 hour discoveries - Part 2 – I shot myself 32 hour discoveries - Part 3 – The fully charged bankers