Reached home late last night. Woke up late this morning. Okay, not so much late…but lat-er. Overslept a sinful ten minutes. Missed the office bus. (This bus is a strange entity. It demonstrates annoying punctuality when it’s raining like crazy. However, on days when cupids and angels are prancing about on tufts of cloud, the bugger is always delayed.)
Now, my choices are either a BEST or an auto. In either case, the wait promises to be long. Soon enough, though, I get an auto-fellow willing to take me to Marol. I settle in, take out my book (The Carrie Diaries – not too bad), and read. Or at least, try to. As we go through Asalpha and Ghatkopar and other places with scenic ‘War of the Worlds’ collision landscaping, I realize that my auto-fellow is anti-life. His and mine.
Several times, I clench my teeth and shut my eyes. When I open them, I am disoriented. I imagine that I am dead and yet, still in Asalpha. That is a very depressing thought, by the way. I could write a script on this – Asalpha being a sort of hell suspended in eternity – a vision the MMRDA has substantially contributed to. Then maybe I could sell it to the makers of ‘Final Destination.’ Hollywood, my clever mind reasoned, would be interested in Ghatkopar and Asalpha. Think about all the effort and money they’d save on computer graphics. All this rubble and fissures are for real. My multi-million dollar reverie is punctured when the auto almost topples over. Its ambitious, intrepid driver was trying to overtake a truck, a bus and, for good measure, a gamboling cow.
Later, after I had used up some of my good karma to stay alive, my auto fellow screeched to a halt. I had reached office. I got out, shaking a little bit. I paid the fare and just stood there, trying to get my bearings right. He sped off. That’s when I saw the sticker on the back of his auto. It read: ‘Aaj ki taaza kabar.’
I suppose I had been warned.