Mai nikli gaddi leke ...

Lately I was ‘requesting’ my bro to make me learn how to ride bike ( you see at times how wrong people get undeserved humbleness , kaam ke waqt gadhe ko bhi……:p) .

Now you must be wondering, what a girl want to do with a bike. I have the answer. I already know how to ride ladies two-wheeler – Kinetic SX so only vehicles remained in my home are hero-honda splendour and car. Further off the track and adventurous things always fascinated me. Now don’t perceive that I have climbed all the hills to reach at the top of Mt. Everest , I mean things that happen in daily life which are not highlighted or fun and masti that happen in college or classroom ,can be called venture-some. More precisely things that are being connected with vigor, audacity, boldness and self-reliance. Talking of car I think I know quite a bit how to drive it.

It’s been about 10 years or more since papa purchased Fiat’s latest version of that time. By latest version I mean there is no trouble regarding cooling down the engine with water that was the case with old Fiats and some other old features. Since that time no choices were there in market, only maruti 800, Ani and fiat- that could fit in the middle class family’s budget. Ani was expensive by a good margin. And if you get to know the reason why dad chucked the maruti option even after getting sanctioned all the papers required in, you will definitely have a spontaneous smile on your face.

In our childhood we three siblings would have enough time to visit our grandmas and grandpas and stay there for a fortnight or sometimes even a month. Because of my father’s transferable job and responsible post we had only summers to spend our holidays at our grandparents. That time in fact every time the journey to my grandparents used to be some 8-9 hours. So it was not at all possible for my dad to visit us frequently at my grandmas’ home during our stay there. That led to the fact that whatever we need clothes or anything else had to be carried with the first trip. You can guess how many dress and stuffs you require if you decide to stay somewhere for a month or so.

Here is the catch, maruti being having small boot seemed not enough to carry our over-weight bags and suitcases. Then papa has good height, which is not suited with maruti’s below-the-starring small space. Moreover my mom would call it soap-dish. She still calls it sabun-dani or dibbi when there is some discussion on cars. Then there comes the safety issue, being iron made, Fiat is safer than the plastic made maruti. I remember one time when we were in Delhi for 2 days during on an expedition, I suddenly ordered papa ‘stop’ on the road (thinking the red light ahead was for us) and the vehicles behind us banged our car and one another in the series. Albeit Fiat was expensive and didn’t have good ‘looks’, still they chose Fiat. When it comes to quality, safety, brand my folks are never ready to compromise. Same funda goes with the home. They don’t like much the latest trend of flats where you don’t have ‘enough’ space, your own garden, driveway and whole sum right on everything. Neither do I. But contemporary exorbitantly high rates of land have left a common man with no choice but to struggle for even a small flat. Anyway so that fiat standing in the driveway, bought a decade ago still enjoying our company and journey. I would rather love to see a Honda city or Scorpio there. But somehow like old companion we are attached with this non-living machine even if any time new one arrives.

We never hired any driver. I remember there was a Guddu uncle (yes it’s the name) who taught my dad how to drive car. After that dad dared (or should I say my mom dared to learn driving) to teach my mom how to drive. One fine day he almost gave up when ma nearly decided to drive into rice fields and hurting one female farmer. After that he never believed on ma’s learning skills (precisely belived on her killing skill..) of driving.

Now what, might be dad had some emotions to pass on this vidhya-gyan to the able and right candidate, who can further take on mantle. The same way kings and rishi-muni used to pass on all their secrets, treasures and their keys (in my case fiat keys). He chose me. I was studying in 7th class then. I remember for a few initial days we matlab mai aur mere bhai-bahan used to open its doors,shut them ,rolled down and rolled up the windows repeadly ,make faces in the rear-view mirror,play the cassettes on car-tape that were playing on the Philips tape inside the room,act as if we are shooting the childhood of Michael shoomaakar by moving steering on 360 degree and…and what not . Firstly a new car in the house and then listening that papa is ready to train me , I was thrilled . Above all the idea that people in the area would be talking about me when they would see an 11-12 yr girl driving the car was the most luring. He would put a thick pillow on the driver seat and order me to sit on it. That way I was able to see things across the windshield clearly.

I can very well recall, one time when one of my mamaji came to us, papa asked him to give us company and show how soon I progressed. That day had something in store for my mamaji , something hilarious , no need to say he was quite scared but on papa’s assurance that we don’t go into crowdy area and he always have handbrake, he somehow subsided his worries. On the way, a child appeared from god knows where. I suddenly turned around the steering on 180 degree. Had papa not there, we all would have been in a ditch. Back home mamaji was repeating – ‘ aj to anu ne marwaya hota ! kuda diya bilkul…’ with laughter to tease me , not to mention he got slipped from one end to other on the back seat when I rolled steering. Today also he dosen’t miss to tease me on this incident.

I remember when we used to go to our grandparents; I would cover that 90 km path from the city we would live in to other one during the journey. I’d sit on the pillow with papa sitting beside me giving me direction whenever needed. Ma at the back seat would make sure that the two angelic demons were not blabbering and fighting much to divert my attention off the driving and in the process joining them cheerfully.

Now neither of us has time to stay at my grandparents’ place for more then one or two days. Gone are the days when we’d write hand written letters to our relatives, wait for their replies, and when postman handed over the letter to ma, we’d eagerly ask ma ki ‘nanaji ne bahot-bahot pyaar likha hai ya bhool gaye ‘, even the no of times this word ‘bahot’ written mattered a lot. We used to count how many times ‘bahot ‘ was written. bahot-bahot-bahot pyar (or more) would make our day. When I’d write letters I very well remember I’d keep writing ‘bahot’ for a couple of lines for younger cousins, in fact everybody is younger to me, I am the eldest one at the maternal side. Gone are the days when we’d wait for our exams to finish off and spend days in packing. Now snail mails are no longer in practice. Every body has phone, cell to communicate. I sometimes wonder, how come we had so much time, excitement and patience (patience in children, strange isn’t it?) to write those letters with pen? Today I feel so lazy to reply e-mails, though when there is any mail from someone in my inbox, I always reply no matter how busy I am, (well it might be a couple of days late) but I admit I don’t get excited and feel quite sluggish. My friends interpret it as if I am always free and nothing great to do since I always reply them. And my tacit message is that I am always there, always there to listen, to say, to discuss, to help and whatever you may ask me for. Even during my exams I don’t hesitate to meet my close friends who coincidently happen to come here for only a day or two. Hey please don’t make it a rule, the thing is I try my best to pakaoing anybody.

Oh, I did deviate from what I was babbling on. So that time too I was not perfect in driving in crowd and today also I can drive only on highways where there is minimal use of brakes. I guess driving everywhere, will have to wait at least until papa is transferred to here. Driving in streets and city roads requires a lot of practice and prayers for innocent living and non-living entities. I know you all will be praying for them when I again take steering in my hands and make weird faces in the rear-view mirror but practice is what nobody can do for me. Hey you assure me na ki you will be praying for me…err ..I mean for the masses!! Ok to meri motor chali pum pum pum….