As told by- the steering wheel
A broken steering wheel that was yet to recover from a perpetual nausea due to extreme rotation in the line of duty, suddenly found itself rolling forward inspite of vowing never to do so ever in its life again. After all it was retired and unattached now, having lost its axis long back. It rolled out an interesting story.
“Purja’s father baby sat his two children while his wife took a much needed breather at her mother’s, in a city few hours from her home. Believe me, she wouldn’t have survived with her sanity intact otherwise. Well, since the children were off from school for some reason for a couple of days, the baby sitter dad had no option but to take them along wherever he went. Sometimes the children waited in the car parked outside an office or a government building. Purja found the arrangement to be perfect since he could spend time in the car simulating actual driving. So while Sesa finished her homework, Purja did some power-packed make believe driving, involving hands, legs, torso and the vocal cords. The purring, screeching or the multiple other combinations of sounds that emanated from Purja’s throat could make the sound technician of the famous Hollywood wild western movies pull out his hair in desperation for not having thought of the above mentioned sound track, first. Our little driver was kind of passionate about his driving and left nothing to chance. Sesa tolerated her brother for she had no choice, or else he bombard her with thousands of weird questions encompassing all his acquired or yet to be acquired knowledge. She preferred doing her homework quietly, hollering at him from time to time to keep his legs to himself. Hence the days passed.
Parked in a quite parking area outside an imposing government building where their father had some work for about half an hour, both the children were busy doing what they normally did. Purja was at the wheel, steering around imaginary mountainous winding roads with the passion of a rally driver, when in the heat of a moment he hit his hand hard on the horn. Now the horns of those days were a round disc attached in the middle of a steering wheel and made a no nonsense bellow of purely earthy variety in contrast to the sophisticated sound of present implements. Well, the said horn, probably took an offence at being manhandled and jammed. A quite lazy parking area of 1960’s reverberated with the sound of loud horn gone wild. Purja was taken a back and he tried dislodging the jammed disc but the sturdy disc did not budge and kept to steady high pitch. Sesa, embarrassed to core, instructed between painful repercussions to Purja’s ears, without any silent results. She wished to be somewhere else. The whole jamboree went on for about fifteen minutes. By now a crowd of sorts began to collect around their car. What with Sesa shouting at top of her voice, Purja thought it best to hide by curling between the seats. Being of small stature, he became invisible. Expert at finding instant solutions, he went off to sleep. Sesa, meanwhile faced what she perceived as a mocking crowd with some well wishers genuinely trying to help for the relief to collective ears. But the horn wasn’t listening as it released all the pent up emotions of previous Purja encounters. Sesa was in tears.
These were the days of free politicians without their security jails or the siren fitted vehicles and open noise free, tree lined uncluttered boulevards. So one can imagine the commotion a runaway horn caused. The noise attracted the attention of the occupants of the various offices in the building and they crowded the window to find the reason for this noisy intrusion into their silent privacy. The serious babu’s of the government fed on British sensibilities, lacked such unannounced excitement in their daily routine hence were quite skeptical of its source of eruption. Only sirens during the blackouts of Indo-pack wars were supposed to make this kind of noise. Someone called the police. Meanwhile Sesa had kicked Purja awake who was pleasantly surprised to see the audiences around their car. His ego was free of an emotion called embarrassment hence positively inclined towards any onlooker. Sesa rolled down the window on arrival of the police force, that she considered safe strangers. The bonnet was opened and the wires disconnected while Purja looked on, wide- eyed at these efficient men in uniform. He liked authoritative efficiency. Sesa was hyper anyway, for she made a fuss of the littlest thing, he felt.
“Unaware of the commotion his younger progeny had caused, their father was aghast to find police around his car. With both the children, the crowd and the policeman tripping over each other’s version, it took a while before he could piece the story together. Some smart talking and lot of embarrassed apologizing later, he drove straight to the mechanic. For Purja, this was cherry on top of a cake. He went wild, running and peering into the cars under repair. He wanted to become a mechanic in a police uniform when he grew up, an ideal combination to make his life perfect, he thought. Only Sesa wanted to wring his neck for putting her through an ordeal like this. And the poor father prayed for speedy return of his wife. And the horn, well, some emotions defy description. Enough to say, it went through rest of its life with head held high, in tribute to a courageous act of voicing its opinion.” The wheel’s story found approval of all age groups, bringing alive the bygone era.
“Purja’s father baby sat his two children while his wife took a much needed breather at her mother’s, in a city few hours from her home. Believe me, she wouldn’t have survived with her sanity intact otherwise. Well, since the children were off from school for some reason for a couple of days, the baby sitter dad had no option but to take them along wherever he went. Sometimes the children waited in the car parked outside an office or a government building. Purja found the arrangement to be perfect since he could spend time in the car simulating actual driving. So while Sesa finished her homework, Purja did some power-packed make believe driving, involving hands, legs, torso and the vocal cords. The purring, screeching or the multiple other combinations of sounds that emanated from Purja’s throat could make the sound technician of the famous Hollywood wild western movies pull out his hair in desperation for not having thought of the above mentioned sound track, first. Our little driver was kind of passionate about his driving and left nothing to chance. Sesa tolerated her brother for she had no choice, or else he bombard her with thousands of weird questions encompassing all his acquired or yet to be acquired knowledge. She preferred doing her homework quietly, hollering at him from time to time to keep his legs to himself. Hence the days passed.
Parked in a quite parking area outside an imposing government building where their father had some work for about half an hour, both the children were busy doing what they normally did. Purja was at the wheel, steering around imaginary mountainous winding roads with the passion of a rally driver, when in the heat of a moment he hit his hand hard on the horn. Now the horns of those days were a round disc attached in the middle of a steering wheel and made a no nonsense bellow of purely earthy variety in contrast to the sophisticated sound of present implements. Well, the said horn, probably took an offence at being manhandled and jammed. A quite lazy parking area of 1960’s reverberated with the sound of loud horn gone wild. Purja was taken a back and he tried dislodging the jammed disc but the sturdy disc did not budge and kept to steady high pitch. Sesa, embarrassed to core, instructed between painful repercussions to Purja’s ears, without any silent results. She wished to be somewhere else. The whole jamboree went on for about fifteen minutes. By now a crowd of sorts began to collect around their car. What with Sesa shouting at top of her voice, Purja thought it best to hide by curling between the seats. Being of small stature, he became invisible. Expert at finding instant solutions, he went off to sleep. Sesa, meanwhile faced what she perceived as a mocking crowd with some well wishers genuinely trying to help for the relief to collective ears. But the horn wasn’t listening as it released all the pent up emotions of previous Purja encounters. Sesa was in tears.
These were the days of free politicians without their security jails or the siren fitted vehicles and open noise free, tree lined uncluttered boulevards. So one can imagine the commotion a runaway horn caused. The noise attracted the attention of the occupants of the various offices in the building and they crowded the window to find the reason for this noisy intrusion into their silent privacy. The serious babu’s of the government fed on British sensibilities, lacked such unannounced excitement in their daily routine hence were quite skeptical of its source of eruption. Only sirens during the blackouts of Indo-pack wars were supposed to make this kind of noise. Someone called the police. Meanwhile Sesa had kicked Purja awake who was pleasantly surprised to see the audiences around their car. His ego was free of an emotion called embarrassment hence positively inclined towards any onlooker. Sesa rolled down the window on arrival of the police force, that she considered safe strangers. The bonnet was opened and the wires disconnected while Purja looked on, wide- eyed at these efficient men in uniform. He liked authoritative efficiency. Sesa was hyper anyway, for she made a fuss of the littlest thing, he felt.
“Unaware of the commotion his younger progeny had caused, their father was aghast to find police around his car. With both the children, the crowd and the policeman tripping over each other’s version, it took a while before he could piece the story together. Some smart talking and lot of embarrassed apologizing later, he drove straight to the mechanic. For Purja, this was cherry on top of a cake. He went wild, running and peering into the cars under repair. He wanted to become a mechanic in a police uniform when he grew up, an ideal combination to make his life perfect, he thought. Only Sesa wanted to wring his neck for putting her through an ordeal like this. And the poor father prayed for speedy return of his wife. And the horn, well, some emotions defy description. Enough to say, it went through rest of its life with head held high, in tribute to a courageous act of voicing its opinion.” The wheel’s story found approval of all age groups, bringing alive the bygone era.
Welcome return of weekly updates I presume. And as I said it was a ring and not a disc that tooted the horns!!
ReplyDeleteI was reading the origin of the computer keyboard- it seems the oft used letters are apart only because the keys of the age old type writer used to get stuck in those good old days...life would be so different, who had imagined.
ReplyDeleteThe stuck horn has been replaced by embarrassing bleeping car security alarms, today...but men in uniform hopefully inspire children even today.