Drive on, dreamer!

My dear friends
I wrote  this a few years ago in India, about my experiences on the roads of beautiful South Delhi, those days of commuting to work without a driver...

On a dark desert highway...cool wind in my hair...(Eagles)

In the four years we spent in the little city of Baroda, Gujarat, where I learnt driving, I used to think that driving was nothing but sheer fun, where twenty kilometres of steering would take us almost to the end of the city.

            But when we made Delhi our home in 2003, it was with a Lot (with a big L) of apprehension that I started driving. The husband warned me about the constant hurry Delhiites are in. Nevertheless I ventured out, first to drop the little one to school, amidst her protests that she wanted her ‘Driver Bhayya’ only to drop her. (No, I don’t think she thinks I am a poor driver…)

So, after taking all the wrong turns, I finally chanced to arrive at the right road, Kalibari Marg. It was 9.30 A.M, just one hour late for her school. The return drive was more adventurous. I never knew that there were such pretty sights around Lutyen’s Delhi – tree lined avenues, manicured lawns, the colonial bungalows where the ‘netas’ live, the works.

 

 I was taking it all in, when I realized I was at the gate of one of the President’s estates. Before the guards could pull up the suspiciously wandering woman in a car, I took a detour with a sheepish smile and asked the ubiquitous autowallah (but when most needed, they disappear too…) for the right direction towards home. Many angry honks and wrong turns later, I finally headed towards the gate to my society, when….

             BANG! My friendly neighbour rammed into my car. I was already too upset, so I said nothing, just got off the car, took his car registration number plus his phone number and sped off, leaving him with an apologetic grin on his face. Oh, nothing came out of taking down his numbers, but that’s another story.

(And if you do want that story, it so happened that he was a very understanding neighbour who readily admitted to his fault on the phone and agreed to pay the damages! Since we (I) had prepared for battle, we were so taken aback that we never called him back, maybe because like me, my husband also never thought it was his fault?)

 

Didn't think I'd find this pic of our beloved old car..one of our first

             Another day when I was driving back home along the one and only one route I knew, I just wondered what would happen if someday my route would be closed for repair. I had, in my childhood, heard of the ‘Astu’ God who said ‘so be it’ to everything we think. He was at work that fine Tuesday. The road did close, and the cop directed everybody to the next road. Only trouble was that he did not tell me which way was home – rather, which OTHER way…..

            Sigh! With sole concentration on the road, I drove on, on and on, till I reached a hitherto unknown part of our Mega city, to be greeted by imposing flyovers, directing me to ‘Ashram’ and another one to ‘Mehrauli”, while I was sure my home was at Chanakyapuri. A nearby ‘Truck-wallah Bhayya’, not too happy to have been addressed so, directed me to go on ahead, with no brotherly intentions whatsoever. Better road and safety senses prevailed; I took the nearby U-turn, thankful to chance upon it. More honks. Growling stomach. Late evening, clouds thundering, announcing a downpour any moment. Heavy traffic……….. Another stroke of good luck! Hit the right road. Voila!!