I have a confession to make.
I am a dinosaur.
I do not use Facebook, or Twitter, or Instagram or Snapchat to figure out where I am going when I am driving my car. I use, apart from the steering wheel etc, the rear and side view mirrors. My apologies, but I am a bit old fashioned.
So, you can imagine my mortification this morning, when a chap driving the wrong way, veered into my car and knocked the side view mirror off.
In the Bertie Wooster style, I have gotten off the wrong foot, and not told you the story.
You see, it rained last night. Not too much, but it rained, with the obligatory burst of thunder. The authorities are building a “Rapid Metro” line close to where I live. In the infinite wisdom that God in his mercy has granted, or allocated, to the ‘authorities’, he forgot to give them the capacity to plan. We don’t have drainage systems, and the mud from the digging is dumped onto the side of the road. Add a spot of rain, and you have a slushy mess where there was once a road. It is a cunning plot hatched between the ‘authorities’ and the makers of 4-wheel SUVs. Slush on the streets = more sales.
The thunder adds to the general spirit of merriment. Lightning enlightens us all.
Add a broken down truck, and you have bad spirits, chaos and more than your usual share of chaps who want to cheat The Grim Reaper, by driving on the wrong side of the road. One of these chaps, who got past The Fourth Horseman decided to knock my side view mirror off.
Since I don’t navigate by Facebook, I was a bit nervous. Naturally so. Justifiably so, I think.
It was not all sad driving, mind you. There were patches of 100 metres or so, that allowed me to drive freely. Patches where I could go into overdrive, and drive with gay abandon. However, if you do the math, you will realise that 100 metres at a high speed is crossed quite quickly. The slow agony returns till the next blissful 100 metre patch of road.
Somewhere along the way to my final destination, I decided … Nay, my prostrate decided that I need to pee. Damn, I swore. The traffic would not move. The blissful patches were too far apart.
Oh Prime Minister, I prayed, you talk of a modern India, and provide an ancient one. Will God give thee the strength to give us modern infrastructure, instead of giving thee the ability to merely talk about it?
I also realised that, before you set out to drive in India, figure out whether or not your bladder will hold up. Only then must you have that last glass of water before setting out on your long, long, long journey.
It is a strategic decision.
I tried every mind trick in the book to keep my mind from my nether regions.
It was agonising but, to cut a long story short, I reached my destination (the loo) before the floodgates opened.
Else that would have been an embarrassing story to tell.