We had to drive to the airport. The sky looked
overcast.
“Why not carry umbrellas, just to be on the
safer side?” I asked. The suggestion appeared to be naive. Mere presence of
clouds does not guarantee showers, as intelligence is not guaranteed on mere
possession of the brain.
The car had a big boot. We placed the
luggage, dumping two umbrellas alongside. The space still available was enough to
accommodate two fat pigs, but we had none. We shut the boot close, and started.
The two most competent authorities on
cinema in the family – Nitasha and Rani – started debating on whether a
particular person in a TV commercial was Ranbir Kapoor. Rani was sure that it
was him. Nitasha was equally sure that it was not Ranbir.
Halfway, Anupam blurted out, “It has
started.”
But the debate had started much earlier! I
was even enjoying it, silently regretting my inability to contribute towards it
in a meaningful manner. My television-watching being restricted to orang-utan pranks
and ‘Monkey Thieves’ kind of shows was putting me at a severe disadvantage.
Anupam
pointed towards the windscreen. When I drive I make it a point to look at the
windscreen, but somehow the droplets of water had escaped my attention. They
were too small to be noticed by my eyes. I am normally busy at scheming about
protecting the car from the onslaught of heavy vehicles and earth moving
machinery. Those around me are busy scheming about protecting them from my car.
So much of scheming leaves little scope for noticing tiny objects, even if they
are right in front of my nose.
The pitter-patter soon transformed into
heavy splats. The lone wiper tried valiantly to cope up, succeeding little.
Vehicles started cutting across little lakes, splashing water with gusto. Had I
not been in a hurry, I would have perhaps driven slowly, enjoying the scene.
But we had a flight to catch. I continued driving at a steady 75 kmph.
The parking ticket vending machine had
acquired a blackhead. It’s top had been covered with a black garbage disposal. Only,
it was not for garbage disposal but to protect the machine from water. An
attendant stood next to the machine, handing out tickets.
We parked. The rain reduced to a light
drizzle. We walked towards the entrance under the umbrellas. A jhappi here and
a jhappi there, and Anupam and Nitasha walked in. Rani and I remained glued to
the glass wall of an unoccupied cabin, watching them till they could not be
seen any more.
Sad, almost defeated, we walked towards the
car. In a matter of half an hour the scene had changed. The rain had vanished,
and so had the daylight.
I started driving. Within five minutes we
were off the flyover, negotiating half constructed walls and pillars, water-filled
ditches, steel girders, and multiple diversions due to the giant flyover underway.
The rains came again, and very forcefully. The
wiper became ineffective even at the top speed. Opaque spots formed over the
windscreen, making it impossible to see through them. Absence of streetlamps
compounded the problem of poor visibility. Very often I had to drive in complete
darkness, not sure whether the car was still over the road. Just another degree
of turn to the steering wheel, and the car would have toppled after climbing on
the divider, or dashed against a wall on the curb side. This continued for
about half-an-hour.
Luckily, nothing untoward happened. We
reached home safely. It was perhaps a new lease of life, but there was nothing
to cheer about. The children had gone, the nest was empty!
We looked at each-other, and reached for
the phone. We had to talk to the children!
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