Being a nice guy

Published: September 10, 2013

He was moaning for help and I just had to stop. PHOTO: REUTERS

I was speeding away on my bike when I heard an agonised moan coming from a man, sprawled on the roadside. He was begging for help. I just couldn’t bring myself to drive away without stopping to see what had happened, because, let’s face it – I am Pakistani, and like all Pakistanis, I love a spectacle.

I parked my bike close to the man and examined him. He was writhing in a pool of his own blood, twisting in agony. He had been hit badly and at this time of the night, I knew no one would come to his aid. However, if I helped him I could get myself into trouble. I knew all too well about the way our police system functioned.

“Tough luck buddy, I’m off,” I said to the poor man after carefully examining his tragic state.

“Please help me, don’t let me die here. I have kids,” the man begged me in a soft whisper.

Damn! He was getting all emotional and my mind was playing games with me again. I got off my bike and took a good look around. There was no one there. I examined the man carefully. He was semi-conscious and could hardly speak. With his forehead smashed open and face so scratched up, he hardly looked human. 

I took one quick glance around before proceeding to search the man.

“Please take me to a doctor, what are you doing?,” the man whispered, almost breathless at this point.

However, by then I was taking an ultimate risk. I found a wallet filled with some cash. The man knew what I was up to even in his condition.

“Take the money, take everything but please take me to a doctor,” he pleaded with me.

I looked at him with a genuinely sympathetic expression, knowing that he was now on the brink of death.

“Sorry buddy, I just can’t risk it, if I help you now it would seem like I was the one who hit you in the first place!”

I smiled helplessly and went on my way.

I was on my bike when the man’s cries thundered in my ears.

Against my better judgement, I reconsidered helping the poor man for a second. His condition was pitiful. The man would die eventually, but it would be a slow painful death.

I shifted my bike a 180 degrees and drove towards the man at full speed. With nerves of steel, I clutched onto the handlebars as my bike cruised over his body, crushing his neck underneath it.

As my headlight shone on his face, I caught a glimpse of him one last time – a look of pure terror reflected in his eyes and he let out a blood-curdling scream.

I was not happy at all. I had wasted my time, and was late to meet my girlfriend at Sea View. By killing the man and putting an end to his misery, I had his reeking blood all over my bike. I looked at the sprawled corpse I had just run over in disgust before going on my way, cursing myself for being a nice guy.

Sohail Kamran

Sohail Kamran

A Banker who tweets @sohailkamrn (

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