The drive back home was real bad that day. I had started around 8:30 from office, with a faint hope that I could be counted among those hallowed lucky drivers who consider themselves intelligent enough to avoid peak hour traffic on Mumbai roads. But as usual, I was proved wrong. It was a real bad traffic that evening.

It took me an hour to reach Bandra Bridge and I was yet  to do the regular ‘bumper to bumper crawl’ till the airport. One hour and fifty minutes later when I was at Malad signal, trying to change the CD, the incident happened.

The pale green Hyundai Accent standing before me started rolling back. It’s quite common for drivers to release the right foot from the brake pedal to adjust the sitting posture or scratch a bit, after driving for long hours. So I honk once and wait the car to brake. The distance was approximately 5-6’ between me & the Accent at the initial standing position and I thought there’s enough distance for the car to stop. But I was surprised to see the car continued rolling backwards. Now, the road at Malad signal is uphill and car was gaining acceleration while rolling down. I pressed the horn in an alarming tone, something like “Honk- honk honk-hooooooooooooooooonkkkkk !”

But the car, like a giant piece of shit rolled on and hit my fender. My hand brake was up, still I felt s small jerk. But there was more for my surprise. There was no visible effort of the accent to pull forward and release that ‘ass to mouth’ position.

Hooooooooooooooooonkkkkk-honk-honk-honk hooooooooooooooooonkkkkk !! I did it vigorously . Still, no change in ass to mouth. A ball of fire start traveling from my veins upwards inside me. I can feel the shrill beep-beep-beep rising inside my brain like a fire detector, activated. By the time I undo my seat belt and come out of the car the frequency of the beeps were deafening. The ball of fire was inside my head, expanding fast.

I walk up and knock the door of the accent driver. A middle aged man with grey moushtache comes out from the rear seat and shouts at me “Why did you hit our car?” Done. The beeps were not audible anymore, as it crossed the supersonic limit. The ball of fire exploded inside my head and the thousands tentacles of poisonous fumes were about to exhaust from my ear, nose & mouth.

I said “ What?”. I could not say anything more than that. I tried concentrating od the moron behind the wheels and wanted to see what kind of asshole he was.

I saw inside the car now. The driver, a guy in his early 30’s, is visibly nervous and fiddling with the gear. On the front seat there were a lady, on the there are couple of ladies too. A case of a family with an amateur driver. The car then pulls ahead. The middle aged guy, most probably the dad of the driver chap tries to get in the back seat. The signal turns green.  The driver is trying to flee.

I kicked hard on the ass, the cars ass. That worked. The car stopped and the driver, now visibly agitated tried to come out while the ladies trying to hold his hand to calm him down. While he comes out his dad inspects the fender of my car and says “ See, nothing has happened”.

 But did’nt you hear me honk? Why did your car roll on the first place?”- I howled.

 
 ‘ That’s because the car was standing on a slope’- driver’s dad says matter of factly.

“Moreover , nothing has happened to your car”

 “ Why were you not pulling the window down or coming out of the car when I was asking ? It’s not whether the car is damaged or not, its about your attitude.’- thick fume comes out of my ears.

The dad, probably seeing the fumes coming out from my ears, gently puts his arms on my shoulder and says “cool down please, we agree it was our fault”.

 ‘Do you know I have been driving for the last 2 hrs?’ Don’t you think it’s not funny to be hit by a car rolling back wards? Why can’t you use your hand brake?’ – the fumes exhaust doesn’t seem to cease.

 ‘Okay, please cool down, lets get going; we are also driving for 2 hrs’

 I looked at the man, trying to defend his non-driver son. A sudden sense of pity engulfs my mind. The fire started subsiding, the fume gets thinner. I tried to say

 “You should ask your moronic son to learn how to use the handbrake and it’s time to tell him that his driving sense are as good as the washerman’s donkey. First your son hits my car and then you are stupid enough not only to defend him  but also to charge me for your mistake. What kind of family are you?”

 By then all the other cars behind starts honking. In Mumbai time is Money.

 I get back to my car and drive over.

I could not get emotional closure. Like many other incidences in my life it remains unconcluded.

So is this post.