Trauma is real yet repairable.
Jaya never talked about it. She always thought that she would be made fun of. No one took her foreboding seriously. When ever she was with someone in a car she would get jolted at crossroads. Her feet hitting the floor of the car even in passenger seat, trying to brake urgently. When she drove herself, her heart would skip a beat while at the crossroads. It was the same even on a scooter or motorbike. When riding pillion she would grab her husband's back tightly and squeeze her eyes shut. "Kyun darti hai itna Jaya", "Arey, don't speed up, varna Jaya darr jayegi", "Yeh back seat driving band kar yaar Jaya", was what Jaya would often hear when travelling with friends. They took her phobia for her cowardice. Jaya took those comments as joke, not taking to her heart. They were Jaya's friends after all. The other day Jaya was driving alone, as usual she slowed down at the crossroads. As if crossing the road on foot, she glanced at both the sides fo...