The Beginnings of a Rant

It was a hot day. No, wait. It was a scorcher of a day. Driving to college with the air conditioning on full didn't really help at all. Meandering our way through the Chennai traffic was frustrating enough. Getting stuck behind another car that was moving in a drunken fashion across the road so that we couldn't overtake was still worse. The heat and the frustration the car in front of me was causing, made me want to just walk up to the driver and throttle him.

I did something worse.

I rammed into his car. My first fender-bender. And it involved three cars! Mine, the drunk in front whom we shall name Farquad and another car in front of his. He had applied sudden brakes and I had rammed into him before I could stomp on the brakes.

Farquad gets out and surveys the damage. His maruthi 800 looks intact. Except for its plastic bumper which is now cracked and hanging loose and a broken tail light.

"Look what you've done!" he thunders, pounding my window and gesturing for me to lower it.

"I'm sorry," I said, "but you're the one who braked suddenly."

"No I didn't!"

"Yes you did!"

By this time, we had caused quite a big traffic jam and the sound of horns was irritating me no end. Also, by this time, we were joined by a traffic cop.

"Move into a side lane" the cop instructed us.

Traffic was held up as all three cars were signaled into a side lane.

The driver of the other car in front of Farquad's said that he didn't want to press charges and left. Only Farquad stayed behind, glaring at us.

The cop, after restoring some semblance of order on the road, joined us. "Do you want to press charges?" he asked Farquad.

"Of course I do!" sputtered Farquad. "These girls would have been distracted by some boy on the road and banged into me!"

Okay. Now that was pushing it. The problem was, I was in Chennai and my buttler tamil was not enough to make myself understood. Also, by the mention of "pressing charges" I was more than a little terrified. Being held in a local chennai prison was not my idea of fun. Besides, by this time, Farquad and the cop were best buddies. They were talking to each other in rapid tamil and even laughing and slapping each other on the back.

To make everything worse, I kept thinking about my dad and how he would react when he found out that i had banged up someone else's car while driving someone else's car. At that time, he was just thinking of whether or not he should get me my own car and this incident would definitely make his decision easy. Far too easy.

The cop turned to me and asked whether I'd be willing to pay for the damages rendered to Farquad's car. If I didn't, he explained, he definitely would file a case.

I agreed. I definitely did NOT want my name to be on any police file.

Farquad was, by this time, assessing the damage done to his car. The tail light was broken on the left hand side and the bumper was cracked. "This bumper is plastic and cannot be repaired." glowered Farquad. "You'll have to buy me a new one. Also, the tail light will have to be replaced."

"Er...okay."

"And you have to go to my mechanic's shop and he'll give you an estimate about the bill."

"Right."

The cop stepped in and said that i had to write a letter saying that we waived the right to press charges and he took down my license plate number and disappeared.

After the cop had gone, Farquad turned to me. "Do you know who I am?" he said, trying to look intimidating but failing miserably. The word "pompous" flashed across my mind. "I am the manager of Triangle Transports." He looked at me expectantly. What, did he expect me to applaud him? I'd never even heard of Triangle Transports. "I'm a very important person there," he clarified.

"Oh...kay...."

"I just got promoted, which means I'll be getting a company car soon. I was going to sell this one anyway. It's a piece of junk and the tail light was already broken. I just wanted to teach you a lesson. That's why I called the cops. Just remember, if you refuse to pay for my car, I will file a complaint against you. And who are the cops going to believe? A college student or a manager? Ha! Come now, we'll go to the garage and you can pay the mechanic straight. I'm an honest man, see? I don't want your money. Just give it straight to the mechanic. Follow me now."

So saying, he got into his car and started it. In all the confusion, I’d completely forgotten to check my aunt's car for damages. I was speechless when I saw the front bonnet. It had been bent so badly that you could see the engine from outside. Also, all the parts had been pushed inwards by the impact. So when I got into the car, the AC vents and the dashboard had moved inwards by a few inches. I groaned. Getting Farquad a new bumper would be cheap compared to the repairs that this car would need. And it wasn't even mine, which made it all the worse. How was I going to explain this to my aunt? One thing was for sure. I would NOT be telling my dad about this particular accident. The best thing for me to do was to pay off the money quietly and hope none of my family members would be the wiser.

I followed Farquad to his mechanic's garage where they said that the cost of a new bumper would be about twelve hundred rupees and plus garage fees and a new back light casing, the total bill would be about three thousand rupees. Daylight robbery, in my opinion. But then again, the faster I paid, the faster this fiasco would be over and Farquad would be gone forever.

I left the garage, three thousand bucks poorer and mad as hell. Mad at myself for causing an accident. Mad at myself for being careless while driving someone else’s vehicle. Mad at myself for being bullied by Farquad into paying for a car that was already broken. But mostly, just mad at Farquad and people like him who thought they ruled the world JUST because they were louder and bigger than everyone else.

I bet that if I had been a 300 pound man, he’d be paying for my car. Just goes to show that size does matter. Size of the ego. Size (or lack of it) of the self esteem. Size of the prey. Excess of chauvinism. Oh yes, and excess of pompousness as well.

Bloody coward

The Dream

I dreamed of you once. It was the strangest dream. You were helping me find a lost key on the railway tracks. Mortal that I am, I kept looking around to see if a train was on the way and whether I’d be road-kill soon. Angel that you are, you offered to flit around the tracks and find my key. After all, as you said, nothing could harm you anymore.

I let you search, just enjoying being with you. Watching you. Observing the contours of your face. Your dazzling smile. Your long surgeon’s fingers. The way you turned around and winked at me reassuringly every time I heard a train approaching.

You found my precious key and we went to a road-side cafe. You said you had loads of things to tell me. You told me to tell your mother to stop crying for you. After all, as I could see, you were alive and kicking. Just not with us. You told me to tell her that you were happy. Then you leaned forward conspiratorially and asked me if I wanted to hear a secret. I said yes, of course. You looked around to make sure no one was listening. Then you proceeded to tell me the formula. The formula of how to die. It's quite easy, you said, pulling a napkin toward you. I'll write down the equation. All you have to do is balance it.

You wrote down the equation and passed on the napkin to me. Just as soon as you learn to balance this equation, you can join me, you said. And then you smiled such a dazzling smile that I couldn't look at you anymore. And then you left me. Again. Just as you had three months ago.

I woke up in tears, trying to clutch at the fragments of your entity. I didn't want to let you go. Not ever. Not again. I tried going back to sleep just so I could see you again, if only in a dream. But it didn't work. Nothing I did could bring you back.

Ever.

(In memory of Deepak. 16.Aug.1982 - 20.Jan.2003)