Stoned Racounteur

Thursday, January 13, 2005

A drive in delightful Delhi

So u wake up in the morning, the birds are chirping, u put on a nice CD of Enya and listen to Pax Deurum or Athair Ar Neamh for a while (For the uninitiated, these are some masterpieces by Enya, an Irish lady with a voice sweet enough to kill for).

The sun is out and the bright rays make you warm. Life is good and you thank god for everything that you have, a potentially successful career, a loving family, good friends and the other ubiquitous comforts of life.

Of course, then you remember that you just have to get one small chore out of the way, namely drop off your brother at some place nearby, and then you’ll have the whole day to yourself. You daydream a little about what you’ll do and how you’ll spend the day. Musing about reading some delightful book or maybe sleeping in your cozy lil bed the whole day with small breaks for eating. You are suddenly awoken from your reverie as you hear you mother remind you about the small task that stands between you and you plans, the act of dropping your brother off.

You take a nice hot bath and have a sumptuous breakfast and get ready to go. The destination is not far, you are told. Of course, you think to yourself, what is 5-6 kilometers really in this day and age of flyovers and fast cars.

You switch on the ignition and make a blessed start to you journey. In the way, you encounter many a moron, some driving like potential slayers or some simply suicidal. But the fact that your elder brother is sitting next to you makes you keep your thoughts to yourself. You mutter to yourself that these f***kers should have their licenses revoked and also be given a nice dose of ass kicking, but you keep quiet.

You calm yourself and think that you will not let these people spoil your day, you dream a little about the thought of lying in a hot bath and you smile again and think to yourself that the goal is getting closer with every passing second.

So after many trials and tribulations, including a rickshaw wallah calling you some names that would chill the spine of many a sophisticated man and also being accused of driving rashly by a young pedestrian who believed that while he was on the road, the most important thing was to stand in the middle of the road and light his cigarette, you finally reach your destination and your brother goes off merrily.

You envy him a little as you remember that there is still the journey back home and rush hour has just started. You brace yourself for the impending battle and tell yourself to concentrate on the purpose of all this, that is to get back home and relax.

And so the ride back home starts. You may as well call it a ride through the cauldrons of unfathomable hell. The torture of driving through a jam packed road moving at snail’s pace starts to take a toll on you. You sweat and can feel your temper rising.

You try to calm yourself but no avail. It seems that the moron behind you has decided that this is the day to find out how loud his horn can possibly honk and there seems to be an inquisitiveness on his part to find the duration for which he can keep on making this noise without infuriating one of his fellow road mates. You curse the bastard and show him the finger. The honking stops for a while and you’re relieved. But the relief is short lasted as you find out that the silence of the horn was only the result of the fact that the guy is now standing next to your window and wants to have a little street brawl.

Apparently he is a fan of WWF and isn’t exactly thrilled at the fact that you gave him the finger. You mutter to yourself that this is the last thing that you wanted but since the situation has now presented itself you might as well handle it and not make a mess of your face in the process. So after a bit of arguing and a mob of 20 surrounding the two of you, you find that there are others who were irritated by this bugger’s incessant horn honking and you have some support. So you win this small battle and the dude goes back to his car but not without telling you that “Tu fir se milio mereko saale …..”.

So you sit in the car with a sense of victory and feel that you just have to put all that has happened this morning behind you and just get home.

After another half an hour of crawling movement, the traffic finally clears out and you breathe a sigh of relief. The road is empty in front of you and your goal seems closer than ever before. You step on the gas and drive a little faster.

You see a red light ahead, but to your delight, it is green. You are just five minutes from your home. As you pass the red light you suddenly see a middle aged lady in a car, chatting on her cell phone without looking where she is going and also jumping the red light. You push the brake with all your might to avoid her, but alas, it is too late. Your car brushes against hers and there are very noticeable dents on both cars. There is no limit to your fury and you stomp out of the car to give the woman a piece of your mind.

But she steps out with a sheepish smile, with guilt on her face, she mutters” Beta aapko bhi to dekhna chahiye naa”. You just lose the will to live. Not only does this woman not accept her mistake, she is trying to con you into accepting that you were at fault too. A crowd starts to gather and you feel that the woman will easily generate more sympathy than you could ever dream of. The tide could easily turn against you.

You simply ask her to move her car and head back home, thinking about how much it’ll cost you to get that dent fixed. You get to the garage and after two hours of denting, painting and what not you finally get the car fixed. You pay the mechanic and start the drive back home after having burnt a hole in your wallet. You were sweating due to the balmy atmosphere of the garage and now the cold wind is blowing, making you shiver. You get home cold and dead tired. You finally enter the door to that cherished place that you call home.

You sit down and decide that all is not lost and you will still make the best of the day that is left. You have bath and feel refreshed again. Life has a purpose again; you feel the urge to live return. The latest book by Alvin Toffler is on you table. You smile at the fact that you’ll finally be able to read about new ideas and learn about the world economy. You get yourself a cup of hot coffee and lie in your bed with the book in your lap. There is a small smile forming on your face.

Suddenly you hear your cell phone ring. It’s your brother. He wants you to pick him up from where you dropped him.


  • Enya? French?

    If it is the same Enya that I am thinking about (see you are completely incorrect. That Enya is Irish.

    By Blogger Tom, at 11:35 PM  

  • my mistake...
    Just assumed that since some songs were french=>she is french...

    By Blogger Rohit Anand, at 11:59 PM  

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