Thursday, March 28, 2013

Dent in my car

The dent in my car. Driving back home, a lady hit my car. I didn't make a fuss because it's just a car! I stopped the car. Looked at the lady behind the wheels. Saw fear painted on her frozen face and my impatience to get home to relieve Paresh of his fatherly duties. I didn't want to get angry at the lady, for my anger would have carried the negativity home. Home to Paresh and Arrow who were no where related to the incident. Everyone keeps asking me how I let go of such things? Like I said, its just a car! A car with no feelings, does not feel any pain. It's ugliness matters to me and me alone.

Driving and me have a love-hate relationship. I can't live with it. I can't live without it. I drive every nook and corner. I am scared of the roads suddenly narrowing down or, the surprise pot hole waiting, God knows where. And yet, I drive every day at every given opportunity.

Bangalore is know for its traffic and take it from a Bangalorean when she says, there is nothing more nerve wrecking than driving in Bangalore. You have to watch out for the horrendous bus drivers, who I suspect are driving with the sole purpose of killing the rest of the commuters, the bikers who will wade through any possible gap, the auto rickshaw guys who drive only in the middle of the road and if you honk at them, they'll generously hurl abuses at you, the taxi drivers who will overtake you bringing you to a screeching halt and speed past as if we don't know how to drive and of course, the who's-who of the city, who with their sirens sounding loud will drive only on the opposite side of the road with their flags waving, as if mocking at our pity state. Amidst all this chaos, I keep my cool and try avoiding my car getting scratched.

I have this uncanny ability to doze off while driving. It is like impossible for my eyes not to shut at least once in the course of driving. I am not allowed to drive on high ways. I need Bangalore traffic to be able to drive. Traffic where you have to be on high alert, the car moves only in inches. Anyway, so how do I keep my cool? I pull up the windows, crank up the AC till it freezes my fingers, and turn on the radio. I've take a special liking to Prithvi. By his voice, use would judge him to be a super sexy hunk but, in reality, he is a bald headed short, proper southie guy. Good that I saw him. And as the music plays, I let my imagination run. I sing along, I dance on my seat, I do up my hair, I file my nails. One thing I notice everyday, every song reminds me of some or other person.
Words by boyzone always brings Vincent to my mind.
Where do you go - Mayand
Rup tera mastana -Paresh
Lucky Ali -Santosh and Chakki
Teri deewani -Vincent
Dooba dooba - Ruben
The list continues.

I keep my cool thinking of the person the song reminds me of. And have non-stop conversation with that person. 

I find it a mess to get down from the car to fight with another person who causes your car a bump or, a scratch. You anyway will claim insurance. So why bother with the ruckus anyway?

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