Optimisim is inherent to us. We used to, and forever will continue to wish well for the one we identify with on the screen - one among the protagonists or the innocent third person that never had to do anything with the kerfuffle anyways.
A long drive on any sort of road is a realisation in our optimist tendencies. The concern for the scores of birds or animals that you find idling in the middle of your road is a confirmation. Birds, especially, play on that dramatic urge inside us that wants to see survival of any species. They'll just sit there, oblivious to your approach. You grow impatient, more so if a passenger. You feel like you're going to reduce something to pulp in a short while - the feeling grows as you get closer. Closer. Now the bonnet shields the birds from your sight. Yours legs stiffen, heart skips a beat, as you wait for a low thud. But nothing. You pass by the spot, to find the birds safely fluttering away on either side of the road. Seinfeld put it right - we have a pact with them!
One sad incident I recall has relation to this. Was 10 years back, when driving from Lucknow to Gethia with family. When our car ran over a squirrel. The poor thing was in the middle of the road, and sensed our approaching vehicle a little too late. It would've been fine if it had either done that earlier, or been completely oblivious to it. But a late judgement made it run for the trees right when our car passed by. A gentle crunch of the bones. Pulp. The crunch was inversely loud in volumes inside me, as I still remember it.
So screw you, rubbish 'art' movies. Everytime I come across one of you, I think of the squirrel and wish that it would've lived. I wish Lilja would've lived.
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