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The loss of a dented helmet

THE hullaballoo over the use of a helmet by two-wheeler women riders of a certain faith reminds me of my own days in the early part of my career when I was posted as a Superintendent of Police in the Punjab CID at Chandigarh.

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P Lal

THE hullaballoo over the use of a helmet by two-wheeler women riders of a certain faith reminds me of my own days in the early part of my career when I was posted as a Superintendent of Police in the  Punjab CID at Chandigarh.

I had a Lambretta and a Fiat, the former for most of the daily chores, including commuting to the office in the Civil Secretariat in the Capitol Complex from my rented residential accommodation; and the latter for gallivanting in the city along with my newlywed wife on weekends!

The use of a helmet by a two-wheeler rider was compulsory even in those days. I had purchased one of high quality, meeting with ISI standards.

I left the office one evening with the helmet in position, tightly strapped over the chin. As I drove on, a cyclist in the front took an abrupt right turn. I instinctively applied the brake and saved a collision with the cycle, but the scooter skidded. I lost balance and in a moment, was on the ground, sliding fast till my head struck the round concrete base of a pole. I felt a jerk  but I got up, apparently not much harmed. A scuffle ensured with the cyclist, both blaming each other. A colleague from my department, on his way home, happened to arrive there on his scooter (wearing, of course, a helmet). He intervened on my behalf. Meanwhile, the DIG, CID, our boss, also happened to pass that way. He stopped and enquired about the matter. Clearly, the cyclist was at fault. However, the matter was amicably settled between us.

It was then that I looked closely at the helmet. It was badly dented at the point of impact but had absorbed the shock to prevent injury to my head, which could have proved fatal.

I replaced the damaged helmet with a new one. However, I kept the old one in my car. On weekends, when I went out with my wife for joyrides in the car, I would notice many a scooterist riding without a helmet. Sometimes, I would reach out to one, especially at the traffic light points when the signal was red and all would be waiting, and show him or her the dented helmet, recounting the story behind it. Most would not understand and seemed to deride me thinking that I was crazy, but I remember one who promised to purchase a helmet and use it.

I disposed of the helmet when I was transferred out of Chandigarh. I wish I had not, for then, I could have used  it now to try to convince non-conformists of any faith and any gender of the usefulness of a helmet.

It makes all the difference between life and death.

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