Tuesday, June 22, 2010


I enjoy driving. I enjoy the feel engine drumming out the power of a hundred horses from its belly pushing the metallic beast forward in a glorious war with the tarmac raising my adrenaline a few notches high on the rare occasion when I get to slam the pedals to the floor and let the beautiful metallic beast cut its way through wind, water and sun.

I enjoy this experience of being cocooned inside the little luxury of the air-conditioned, soundproofed, unpolluted environs of my car, listening to my favourite tunes or to the sexy voiced favourite RJ chattering away as if this was the most happiest moment of her life always. I enjoy the smooth way the car smoothes over the city’s numerous speed bumps, pot holes and eases through the maze of sulphur spewing , grunting and coughing diesel guzzlers whose respect for other vehicles stand next only to India’s respect for Pakistan.

I enjoy the various insights I gain in life by merely driving from home to work and back. The sheer experience it provides one with in life that reminds us of the animals we are at the basic level is such a humbling experience in itself.

I slide in behind the wheel of the car in the yellow boxed darker than hell parking lot at the basement. The security guard doubling as the car wash guy car had left the wipers up to make the car pretend that it has taken a wash. The guard must be poor, or must be lazy, I muse. I put the gears into reverse and almost hit a pillar. My car inches eases out of the little yellow boxed parking space allotted for my car and brushes at the mirror of my neighbours vehicles which is parked as if we were sharing parking lots. Is the builder’s greed bigger than my neighbor’s insensitivity, I muse. By the time the car’s rolling out of the main door of my apartment complex I have gained immense insights into human life that I wouldn’t have gained through penance at the Himalayas. More on my next post – the great pleasures of driving in Bangalore.
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