Cards and Car Trips

Cards and Car Trips

My father goes to Chennai every Friday to meet up with old friends and play bridge at the Madras Club. .

He drives back on Friday night. Most of the time the trips are uneventful. He reaches home and goes straight to bed. He sleeps in the car too, as the traffic is less at that time of the night and the highway is smooth.

One night he noticed a lot of noisy activity on the other side of the highway divider. A man seemed to be  sprinting across the road closely pursued by a crowd. They were all shouting. A few of them had sticks and others long iron rods. The man leapt across the divider . As he did so, he flung the sack he was carrying on to the windshield of the car. It shattered, the bag broke and the contents spilled out. It seemed to be silver vessels and a few gold chains.

“What is this ?” shouted the driver as the car swerved and he attempted to regain control.

“Fling it out again “ said my father. They threw the stuff out.

The man had since crossed over and disappeared into the brushes.

“Drive! Drive!” said my father .”hurry.”The driver sped off.

“The wind is in my face, I cannot see,” said the driver.

“Doesn’t matter, here use my sunglasses”.

I really don’t know how they made it home.

I was horrified when I saw the car the next morning. The windshield was shattered and there was a dent on the bonnet. I opened the door and saw a silver diya  wedged under the clutch----.

“What is this?” I asked my father.

“I think the man must have been a temple thief---.. Any way we did not hang around to find out”.

A couple of months later as they were driving back (nothing happens on the way up) they saw a fat dark person waddling on the road. The car was moving fast, he did not move out of the way, they struck him and he went flying. The driver braked. My father went out and saw a wounded buffalo on the road. It was lowing and limping. It hobbled off. The car head light was smashed. There was a huge dent in front , but miraculously it still ran.

“”How on earth did the buffalo manage to get through the divider?” asked my father.

“There is a small gap,” said the driver.

There was some shouting in the distance.

“The villagers are coming,” said the driver, “they will ask us to pay at least half a lakh for the buffalo—after they beat us.”.

“Drive, drive,” said my father. The car sputtered off.

The car reached the house driveway and stopped. It refused to start again.

“Very good car “ said father patting the Chevy on the caved in front portion. Did not stop till we reached home!”

The car is now fixed but I don’t really trust it to take him to Chennai and back. I changed the  car (he now goes in mine) and the route (they now return via Tambaram).

All quiet on the highway front!