Long Drive - The tale of a tired driver

Beads of sweat dripped down my face. It was an unusually hot February afternoon. 37 degrees it flashed on FILA digital watch. 45 minutes. Exactly the time I had waited for a taxi. Where were the Air Conditioned Bus stops when you needed them anyways? Taxis zoomed by – empty, and yet, unwilling. Asian passengers, as my class was known, weren’t very welcome.
I was now beginning to feel like an over baked pancake. Just then, a taxi appeared. In despair, I did not dare tell the taxi driver my final destination – Sharjah. I asked him instead, where he could drop me off. With a smile, he said, “Anywhere Sir. My pleasure.” I sat down with a hush.
I decided however that day in the taxi, I needed a drive. It was time for my long drive. The drive towards what was to be my tormentor in chief for the next 6 months. The seven letter tormentor – License.
Chapter One – The wait.
It felt like eternity. Various reasons were given. From the unavailability of instructors, to someone’s mistake not processing my papers. I waited patiently. Nothing I could do, except wait. One of my colleagues at work, Badre Maktari commented, “You know Shrikant, gone are the days when you could get things when you had money. Welcome to a world today where you could have all the money in the world and you’d still be at the mercy of some other inefficient buffoon working 9-6.” One “surprising” Monday morning, I got the call. She said, “Sir, your classes start this Friday.” On other days, I might have realized that the female voice on the other side was refreshingly sweet. Almost sexy. Not this time. I breathed a sigh of relief. It would start, finally.
Chapter Two – My first date.
I’d never been so nervous. I was going for my first date – with the car that would teach me the art of driving. Turned out to be a damp squib. This one was like dreaming about dinner with Angelina Jolie and getting a 60 year old woman old enough to be your grandmother. A wretched experience, because each time I tried to crank it up either my instructor, or my car wouldn’t let me. It was like driving a car with the engine of a motorcycle. All of two hours it lasted in the Nissan Sunny.
Chapter Three – The dream.
And then came the big day. Four months after my first date, I arrived surprisingly confident for my first test. My name was called, Shraikant Kilaakar he said, which I correctly deciphered to be mine. Got to know that I would be the third driver.
Somehow, I knew then I wouldn’t pass. Because I’d dreamt of the moment for the past two weeks. In the dream, I was the first driver, and I had passed.
For that moment though, I put all thoughts aside. Sat and drove for all of two minutes. All it was: Sit, drive, U turn, Stop. And that was it. I was handed this funny looking A4 sheet, with lots of circles on it, and well, FAIL it was.
Chapter Four – Gotcha.
The thirteenth day of the ninth month said the calendar. You are first he said, and hell was I happy! Would my dream come true, I wondered. And heck, it did. PASS he said after the drive.
Finally, I’d got it. I clutched the paper, and said, Gotcha!
Epilogue
1.30 p.m., 13 October.
Beads of sweat drip down my face. It is a hot October afternoon. 37 degrees it flashes on my new ALBA digital watch. Taxis honk at me, asking where I want to go. I point out to a nearby car, and say No Thank you. It’s my first car – the Mitsubishi Galant. All of 4 days old. So, why is it that I stand here? Waiting, because another driver has bumped his car into me and run away. So here I stand once again, waiting. Only this time, since I have a license, I have a car, I wait for the police.
Ah, if only I didn’t have this dreaded license, I wouldn’t have the car; I’d have hopped onto a taxi and zoomed off.
But here I am, stuck. Stuck - with my long drive. Ah, did I hear the police somewhere?