Have a Car. Do you Care?
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| Sree Narayana Guru Image Courtesy: Google |
Meeting a childhood friend
is always a refreshing experience. Somehow, what felt like old, past,
ghost-like, dead and gone appear ‘refreshing’, new and approachable with the
appearance of a childhood friend.
It was the day when
Narendra Modi came to Sivagiri Madam, pilgrim centre, the tomb of Sri Narayana
Guru, one of the foremost social reformers Kerala has seen, and made the place
known in the northern parts of India
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| Image Courtesy: Google |
It was a hot day. I bought
a burger, a Combo of Friend Chicken, French Fries and a Vanilla Blue. After
eating the chicken, I thought why shouldn’t I go out and take in some sea
breeze. So I went to the beach. I had the burger with me still and some Vanilla
Blue. I sat on a concrete bench, took the breeze on the face, and watched the
waves crashing on the wet sandy shore. Right then, I felt I might meet someone
I knew.
I did not see anyone I knew,
around, never expected anyone there, either. But I just felt so, all of a
sudden.
After looking around and
not finding anyone I knew, nearby, I turned my attention to nothing again. I
took the breeze on the face, watched the waves crashing on the wet sandy shore.
A hand touched my shoulder. I turned to look and found him, my old classmate,
Racer (name imaginary).
I recognized him
immediately. There was no usual clichés of introductory bull shooting. He said;
“You are a good liar.”
I replied; “Is that what you
came here to tell me?”
For that he retorted; “I
read your blog and all. You do a good job. I read that story about a blind boy
and all. What else are stories other than lies? I didn’t know before, that you
can lie so effectively!” He smiled so I gave in.
“Thanks.” I said. “I heard
you own a car now.” I pushed on. I had made an email contact with one of our
mutual friends the previous week about fixing some advertising proposals on my up coming book. And in our email chat we had talked about some of our old
classmates. That was partly the reason why I wasn’t much surprised to see
Racer.
“Oh, yea. It’s at home.”
Racer said shyly and we sat there, on the bench.
“Why, you should have taken
it out here. It’s too hot and people know no way to stop childbirth in this
part of the world. And by virtue of that reality, taking public bus is very
difficult.” I said.
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| Image Courtesy: Google |
“It’s a Maru_800 man! I
can’t drive it out too often, especially for outings like these. It’s
embarrassing to drive it in front of all these people.” Racer said looking at
the women and young men strolling in front of us. The young men had fancy
hairdo and muscles and the young women had sleeveless dresses and flat bottom sexy
sandals that kissed the ground with each step they took. Most of the girls had
their hairs tied in ponytails.
“Then why exactly did you
buy the Maru_800 Little Boy?” I used to call him Little Boy when we were in fifth
standard. But I don’t think he knew why, still. I am six, two and taller than
him; he is five, five. So perhaps, he was thinking I look bigger than him and
so he was being called a little boy. Those days, when we were classmates in the
Malayalam medium school, he used to drop hot airs in the class. So I called him
Little Boy with reference to the bomb dropped by the Americans; only, if Racer
knew.
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| Image Courtesy: Google |
“I want to drive it to my
office, every day. As you said, buses are very crowded and traffic busy, each
morning.” Racer said.
After sharing my burger we
said good bye. I did not have much to do. So I sat there taking the sea wind on
my face and watching the waves crashing on the wet sandy beach. There was a
time when a Maru_800 was a symbol of luxury among the middle class residents of
suburban India
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| Katrina Kaif Image Courtesy: Google |
Standing near a Volkswagen
or Mercedes S class, our Maru_800 might look like a scarecrow near Katrina
Kaif.
Roll it Little Boy, roll
it; I thought.
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