How These Days Pass-3

How these days pass-3

Tuesday, June 10, 2008 at 8:04pm

The days are passing by very slowly. I want to do so many things for Asif but I can't do that. The memorial is approaching fast, we're all working together to make it memoriable for Asif and his friends. Some of Asif's friends have taken various responisbilities and working very hard to finish them on time. Asif was loved by so many people which is unbelievable. They are doing their share of work to make things right for Asif and I'm doing my share. Today, I've sent out an e-mail to several people about the bicycle rally to remember Asif and demand for a bike lane on Queens Boulevard. The Ghost Bike Project has arranged for this bicycle rally. They put up a flyer on www.ghostbikes.org/new-york-city/asif-rahman. They urged bicyclists from all over the city to meet at different points of Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Queens, then proceed towards Queens Boulevard and 55th Road and meet there at 7pm. I'm encouraging everybody to attend this rally. I want a safer road in our city. I don't want anybody to lose their loved one's to reckless drivers.

It's heartbreaking when you are waiting for your loved one to come home and find out he won't come home anymore. Asif was on his way home after a hard day of work. He never came home. His life was cut short by a reckless truck driver. I still wait for him and say 'hi ma'. Asif will not come home anymore. Will not call me anymore...My heart aches when I think about these reckless drivers who hit a bicyclist/pedestrian on the street, shatter his life and dreams and still keep driving on our roads. I can't imagine how could a driver hit a pedestrian or bicyclist unless that person is insane, drunk, sick, his vehicle has mechanical troubles or visibility is zero. In any case, these drivers are not safe for our roads, for our children and they don't deserve the right to drive any vehicle ever. Also, I can't help noticing that the bicyclists hardly get any justice by the press or by the police. Bicyclists are not considered 'aristocrats'. Newspapers, while reporting a death of a bicyclist, label them as 'messengers'. They are totally inconsiderate of the biker's personal life, achievements and family. I was shocked to I read my son's accident report in the newspapers. This news was biased and one sided, based on the police report which was based on the killer driver's account of the accident.I wish I could do something to change these things. But my power is limited and I can only ask for the cooperation and support from various people and different groups. I believe it's important to make our roads safer for the bikers, make sure they go home safely to their loved ones. Especially, at this time of global warming, traffic congestion in our city and high gasoline prices, people are adopting bicycles more than cars. Even Mayor Bloomberg is encouraging people to ride bicycles and in recent years bicycle sales went up high. Unless we have safer roads (with bike lanes), people will not feel safe to ride their bikes. Everytime, I expressed my concern about riding his bike around the city, Asif laughed it out and said, "Ma, there are bike lanes everywhere, and I carry a bike map with me all the time. " Ironically, there is no bike lane on Queens Boulevard, where Asif was hit by the freight liner. The arterial road Queens Boulevard, which is also known as the Boulevard of Death, has no safe haven for the bikers. If there was a bike lane on this road, may be it could prevent the tragic death of my beloved son.

Still I can see clearly when the police came to our home. I was screaming and jumping up and down in my living room, demanding to know what happened to my son, the cops won't tell me. They asked me if there was anybody else in the house. I told them, "Yes, my husband and my mother." They told me, "You have to call them, we can't tell you anything." I told them, " My husband is doing dialysis and my mother is sleeping. I can't call them. You've to tell me what happened to my son." They insisted on calling somebody else and having them by my side. I burst opened the bedroom door. Hearing all the commotion, Bachchu was already getting ready to come to the livingroom. I cried out loud and told him, "The cops are here. Something happend to Asif. Stop your dialysis and come out quickly." Bachchu came out of the bedroom. So came the bombshell. They didn't have to tell me. I knew when I heard Asif's name. They didn't tell us the real situation, only told us, Asif was hit and his condition is bad. He was in St. John's Hospital. They gave me their card and the doctor's name.

I grabbed my jacket and car keys which were right by the door. Remembered to wake my mother up, told her what I knew and left her with Nafees to worry about Asif. I ran out of the door. They were both crying. Bachchu put on a jacket and followed me. We got into the car. My mind was racing but the car was moving relatively slowly. It's the evening rush hour. Everybody is going home. I wished I could fly over the traffic and be at the hospital. I didn't know what to expect. But I kept praying while driving the car, Asif must be alive. May be he is clinging to his life but he will be okay. Bachchu was frantically trying to reach Moumita who was at work in Manhattan. But she was not answering the phone, Bachchu left messages for her. After driving for a few blocks I told Bachchu to call Tinku and Ashraf Bhai. They are good friends of us, also their son Kapot is a good friend of Asif. If we need any help at the hospital, they can help us, atleast they can share our pain. Bachchu called and told them to meet us at the hospital. Finally we hit the Queens Boulevard. After driving for some more, we reached the hospital. I looked for a parking spot. After parking the car, I raced ror the hospital. I was annoyed, my son's life is in danger, why did it take so long for me to get to the hospital?

When I reached the emergency room and told the security guard , "I'm here to see my son Asif Rahman. He was hit by a truck and brought in here. Where is he?"The guard motioned somebody to come to us. A doctor came right away. Took us to a small room inside the hospital. Which made me suspicious, why aren't they taking us to Asif?
To be cont'd....