Life unfolds in moments—some ordinary, some extraordinary, and then there are those where the divine reveals itself unmistakably. What happened to us on that highway was nothing short of a miracle.
We were driving as usual when, without warning, a bus veered into our lane. In an instant, we swerved sharply to the left, the tires losing grip. The car spun out of control, plunged into a ditch, and began to cartwheel. Once, twice, three times—glass shattering, metal twisting, the world spinning violently around us.
And then—stillness.
Shaken but conscious, upon coming to an halt, my brother and I checked on each other. The front doors were jammed, the windshield and rear glass lay in pieces, shards embedded in my brother’s face and hands. But we were alive. That alone felt unreal.
We were trapped until kind strangers stopped to help, forcing the doors open. And just like that, we stepped out—battered, but remarkably intact. Bruises and the seatbelt’s imprint across our bodies were the only marks of what should have been a catastrophic crash. It felt as though something unseen had cushioned the impact, shielding us from devastation.
As soon as I got out of the car, I reached for Tiruchendur Viboothi in my bag and smeared it on our foreheads.
At the hospital, doctors checked our vitals and conducted multiple scans for internal injuries. The airbags hadn’t even deployed, yet we had walked away from a wreck that should have left us broken. The doctors, staring at our scans, were baffled. Apart from soreness and minor wounds, we were unscathed. Their disbelief mirrored our own.
And then, the realization struck with overwhelming clarity—something greater had protected us. The Almighty had been our unseen airbag.
A shiver ran through me. Was this mere coincidence, or had we just witnessed the divine hand at work?
On the way home from the hospital, I checked the laptop bag that had been with me through the crash. Inside were two things: the Bhagavad Gita and an image of Krishna guiding Arjuna’s chariot. (I finished writing the 18th chapter of Gita the day before). At the very moment the accident occurred, the Purusha Sooktham had been playing in the car.
Sometimes you live to tell the tale. Today, my heart overflows with gratitude—not just for our lives, but for the undeniable reminder that when all seems lost, He is there, always.
