First of all, this is not the review of Gurucharan Das’ book that goes by the above name. Anyway, if you want to read it, it is one hell of a book to understand the contemporary politics of India.
As the disclaimer of this blog suggests, this post is about one such silly, mundane incident that occur time and again, I am sure everyone has faced this at least once in their life, nothing very peculiar, yet could prove very amusing to some if told in specific way.
I have one such friend, also a civil servant serving at state owned cement industry, who I hardly meet once in four months. But every time we arrange a sitting together, be it over beer or just plain tea, the guy never fails to smack my intestines with his most funny bantering, no matter how wonted and ordinary the subject of the event is. And yeah, he is a mechanical engineer too.
Anyway, what I want to share here is, I am a very normal, or even say an ordinary humanly being who likes to help other fellow human being in need. For instance, if I see an old person or women with small infant, born or inside womb, I unhesitatingly vacate my seat for them. Similarly, I also help anyone struggling with luggage at airports or bus stops. And despite some stories regarding the hitchhikers, in reality or in the movies, I still voluntarily and happily give hitchhike in my old, flailing 99 CC Hero Honda splendor motor bike (I bought this one 3rd hand from my friend at 50000 Rs, lesser than 400 USD), except this one time when this hitchhiker was real obnoxious and ordering me as if I was his dad’s personal chauffeur. He instructed me to catch the bus he had just missed and directed me where to park the bike and where not to.
Now, among so many things that I hate in this world, I really loathe it when someone shouts instructions in my ears, sharing ride in my bike. You can ask my wife, she will tell you in details. So, getting real pissed with this ungrateful hitchhiker, I instantly stopped my motorbike just like that.
“What happened now….man, I am already late” , he exclaimed.
“Oh boy, my bike has run out of petrol, I am sorry, please disembark” , I lied nonchalantly.
“Really? but the fuel indicator displayed it was full. ”
And he was right. As a government incentive, I get something like fifteen and some additional liters of petrol coupon per month and I immediately fill my bike lest I lose that tiny yet very important piece of red coupon.
I replied, “Well, my motorbike has so many problems and that false fuel indication is one of them. Now, as you know that this bike won’t start without petrol just as you won’t take a single step without grains in your belly, kindly, get your fat ass off my seditious bike. I have to drag it to the nearest fuel station.”
The moment his feet hit the grounds, I vanished away from the scene with my old bike making screeching sound, simultaneously obscuring his cursing behind.This post is sponsored by our partners Wigs
So, you see now, I am a gentleman but I can be a real prick depending upon the scene and the characters around.
This morning, something sort of identical occurred to me.
I had to go inside this office building, real close to the highway. Now, thanks to this crazy (in either way, good or bad, I leave it to the readers to judge him) mayor, we now have in Kathmandu, currently, I was too afraid to park it openly on the highway. You never know when these good-for-nothing cops manifest with yellow locks in their hands.
So I drove my bike into this basement parking which could barely fit some bikes, forget about the cars, knowing that it would be real pain in the ass coming out of it.
When I had finished my thing at the office, I came down praying that I would be proven wrong. But, voila! the fate did not surprise me. My motorbike was barricaded by four other bikes and scooters. I had just laid my hands in one of those bikes that a fellow parker, a young girl pleaded to help me with her scooter. I did not utter a single word, just checked my surroundings and calculated how to make space to turn my bike and get lost from the setting, only to see that some a**hole had parked on the road above, blocking the exit of the underground parking and yes, this son of bi**h had locked his handles as well. Check the cautiousness in that bastard.
Acknowledging that no one would come to my help, I completely immersed myself into the situation, pulled my sleeves and with great struggle and wasting my scarce energy in me (remember that I had allowed nothing in my belly except a glass of water in the morning), I somehow made space for my bike to just sneak in.
Almost out of my breath, gasping, to get my bike and ride away from other fellas who stood there complaining, I was confronted by that young girl once again, standing by my vehicle.
“Dai, please help me with my scooter” She reiterated.
I only shook my hands, indicating I am really sorry but I can’t help you, please help yourself or call some another good Samaritan. I don’t know what makes you think that among all those present here, only I could be the one to help you.
And then I whizzed pass, asking my self “does my face really look like a good fella or something?”, I mean my wife says I look like a scornful wretch when I am not in a good mood. Yeah, whatever !