Mr.K and I live in a small hill town. He told me this story about how he once drove to Delhi and then had never done so.
Mr.K, in the year 2017 along with his family, had the good fortune of traveling to London and sightsee one of the most historic and vibrant cities in the world. He and his family saw much of London journeying on the tube and on foot. The thing that Mr.K was impressed with the most was, how the vehicles stopped and gave way to the pedestrians on crossings. Some even honked smilingly insisting that the K family cross first. The impression stuck with him.
Around six months after their return, the K family had to go to Delhi. “I am not going on the bus, we’re taking our car” announced Mrs.K.
Now, Mr.K is a terrific driver for the hills, all prudence, and patience. So much so, that I am persuading him to write a blog on driving in the hilly terrains. Driving in the big cities, entirely a different cup of tea. See, he was allegedly brought up on a legend (dubious in my view…I think) of traffic cops lying in the prowl behind a tree, a street light pole, or just around the turn, ready to pounce on any ‘bahar ka number'( another state’s license plate).
Mr.K tried to logic against this diktat in his mute voice. But all his lame excuses were brusquely ignored by the respectable Home Ministry, not much different than our Finance Ministry rejects tax breaks for the middle class. So packing themselves in their stretched hatchback of a sedan, they drove on. Mr.K actually enjoyed the drive. The highways were new and smooth. But as the stream of traffic turned into a river and then into a sea, carrying them automatically on its currents near the Delhi border, the trepidation returned.
Calmly, the Mrs opened up Google Maps and started navigating. As the tyre treads put miles behind, and the ears grew accustomed to the cacophonous music of blaring horns, the confidence started to surge back into Mr.K. So much so, that he started to remember his London experiences. At a traffic light and pedestrian crossing, Mr.K saw a family like his own waiting to cross.
As the lights turned to yellow, he slowly stopped his car and smilingly started to nod to the family outside. Screech, Thack!! A jolt shook the car but thankfully it was low impact. He looked at his family and saw that everyone was fine. But he felt the gaze of those three sets of eyes as if imploring that he, a five and a half feet of a hunk of oozing machismo (albeit a wee pot-bellied), will do something. Spying in the rearview mirror, he saw an impressive SUV behind him. Obligated, but with a trembling heartbeat, he got down, went back, and observed a deep dent in the trunk of the car and then the steel guards in front of the SUV fender. ‘Why did you stop abruptly at yellow and that too with so much clear space up ahead’? A deep baritone demanded as the window of the SUV’s driver door rolled down. Mr.K turned towards the source of the voice and saw an Aviators sporting Terminator/Rambo combo rolled into one, on the driver’s seat. “Nothing Ji nothing, just a little dent and there’s a traffic jam behind us,” said Mr.K as he hurried back to his car. “The guy was apologetic,” he told his family offering a weak grin as they drove on watching the family that crossed. “Just two more traffic lights to cross,” said Mrs K echoing Google Maps as Mr.K drove on.
At the next traffic lights, there was that same exquisite moment, you know the one between the yellow and the red. Mr.K stopped just in time with half an eye still on the rearview mirror. Just as Mr.K’s focus shifted to the front, there he was, a tall dusky impressive looking fellow in blue and white. ‘Where the hell did he materialize from?’ Thought Mr.K, awestruck. “Sir JI, your tyres crossed the pedestrian crossing. Yahin bhugtoge yaa station pe? (will you pay the fine on the spot or at the station). The cop asked filling up his challan book. Mr.K looked upon his wife and kids and mumbled apologetically “Sir yahin pe” (on the spot) while getting down as another cop redirected the traffic.
Three and a half years later, on another occasion, the K family needed to go to Delhi after the COVID lockdown. Mrs K looked upon Mr.K pondering for a moment and told him “The economy is shattered. People with small businesses like taxi guys are hurting. We”ll take a cab from Chandigarh onwards.” Mr.K nodded affirmatively, appreciating the benevolence from the Missez.
drkck.
Disclaimer:
These events are fictional and bear no resemblance to any event or person either living or dead. If any resemblance arises it is purely coincidental. The narrative is meant for entertainment purposes only and doesn’t intend to be of a derogatory nature or biased against any person or group of people, and if anyone feels offended the author sincerely apologises.
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