Kids,
So this story happened because Dr Sriraj, a good friend, decided to get married, by actually winning the war against the zillion obstacle monsters that his horoscope kept putting along in his family's quest for a legal match, or may be because it happened because he remembered to invite me for the same, or may be because I happened to be in town, available and free on the day, or may be.. forget it. So he invited me for his marriage reception today at this auditorium about 9 kms from yours truly's home. So le me is chilling out doing what he is best at - doing nothing - and still in the Eid hangover. You know, the drowsiness induced by excessive sleep on the day of Eid? Some celebration. Way to go.
So I pick myself up in the evening, act all important before Mom saying "Oh I have this marriage to attend. So dont count me for dinner" talk. Kicks myself up for the action and chooses to go after Magrib, lest I be tempted by the food there to delay the prayer. And I am riding for about a couple of kilometres, when the bike chokes, pants for dear breath, and turns off, in a NO MAN'S LAND on the way. Since I am not very adept at understanding the Language of the World and in taking hints from the Omens, I didn't turn back and head for home. I vented myself at the kick starter of the bike, because the self starter has been dead for some days you know. Also the horn. Basically anything that would require battery. Even the neutral indicator. I kicked on, and the bike would rumble like a lion who makes growls in his sleep when annoyed by a tick. I stood there, kicking for dear life, enacting a Just For Laugh Gags scene to the people in the house in front of which I had stopped to do my show.
If you are itching to make a sadistic smirk now, do it with all grace. So on one eventful kick the bike wakes up, and I flee. Only to reach a small junction where it dies again. Now I am doing the show again to a bigger audience. Offering entertainment with my life since 1987. Once again after 5 minutes it starts for some reason, and I go for some half a kilometre by some engineering miracle, and stops again. Now I am at an even bigger junction, so I walk with my stud looking for a workshop - to just leave the stupid thing there and make a run. And quite expectedly, after pushing it for about half kilometres, I find out they are not open for the day. Apparently the Eid hangover is a much more widespread phenomenon than I thought. And this kept on happening, but I didn't turn back, because of the food that may be waiting for me at the function as the fruit for my efforts. Oh and also meet Sriraj and wish him, if I get the chance. I reach the auditorium and what do I see? The function has been over for good, and the security is actually closing the gate. I called Sriraj, and he said it was cool.
If that had happened to someone in a sitcom you'd have heard a chorus laugh in the background by now wont you. How we love to laugh at someone else's misery.
And now I have to cover the whole distance back. I dont want to elaborate with all the gory details as to how I did it, but I will give you some stats. The bike covered a distance in quantums of 400 metres when it was hit by the life-particle-boson. It took some 5 minutes of activity/inactivity to actually kick life into it after every pseudo death. I pushed along the thing with my own hands for 2 kilometres. Number of potholes I ran into because of the absence of streetlights = 6. Number of bridges on the way = 2. Probability of me dragging the thing uphill = very high. No.of times it happened = zero. So I am alive.
Bruised, humiliated, exhausted, one reaches his home and Mom asks, "Did you sweat yourself by eating or what?"
So whats the moral of this not-even-remotely-funny story?
So I pick myself up in the evening, act all important before Mom saying "Oh I have this marriage to attend. So dont count me for dinner" talk. Kicks myself up for the action and chooses to go after Magrib, lest I be tempted by the food there to delay the prayer. And I am riding for about a couple of kilometres, when the bike chokes, pants for dear breath, and turns off, in a NO MAN'S LAND on the way. Since I am not very adept at understanding the Language of the World and in taking hints from the Omens, I didn't turn back and head for home. I vented myself at the kick starter of the bike, because the self starter has been dead for some days you know. Also the horn. Basically anything that would require battery. Even the neutral indicator. I kicked on, and the bike would rumble like a lion who makes growls in his sleep when annoyed by a tick. I stood there, kicking for dear life, enacting a Just For Laugh Gags scene to the people in the house in front of which I had stopped to do my show.
If you are itching to make a sadistic smirk now, do it with all grace. So on one eventful kick the bike wakes up, and I flee. Only to reach a small junction where it dies again. Now I am doing the show again to a bigger audience. Offering entertainment with my life since 1987. Once again after 5 minutes it starts for some reason, and I go for some half a kilometre by some engineering miracle, and stops again. Now I am at an even bigger junction, so I walk with my stud looking for a workshop - to just leave the stupid thing there and make a run. And quite expectedly, after pushing it for about half kilometres, I find out they are not open for the day. Apparently the Eid hangover is a much more widespread phenomenon than I thought. And this kept on happening, but I didn't turn back, because of the food that may be waiting for me at the function as the fruit for my efforts. Oh and also meet Sriraj and wish him, if I get the chance. I reach the auditorium and what do I see? The function has been over for good, and the security is actually closing the gate. I called Sriraj, and he said it was cool.
If that had happened to someone in a sitcom you'd have heard a chorus laugh in the background by now wont you. How we love to laugh at someone else's misery.
And now I have to cover the whole distance back. I dont want to elaborate with all the gory details as to how I did it, but I will give you some stats. The bike covered a distance in quantums of 400 metres when it was hit by the life-particle-boson. It took some 5 minutes of activity/inactivity to actually kick life into it after every pseudo death. I pushed along the thing with my own hands for 2 kilometres. Number of potholes I ran into because of the absence of streetlights = 6. Number of bridges on the way = 2. Probability of me dragging the thing uphill = very high. No.of times it happened = zero. So I am alive.
Bruised, humiliated, exhausted, one reaches his home and Mom asks, "Did you sweat yourself by eating or what?"
So whats the moral of this not-even-remotely-funny story?
There is nothing like you cant hit more embarrassing lows in your life.
The worst is only yet to come.
Always.
2 comments:
Sriraj got married? That's news to me. anyway, embarrassing lows aren't new in your life. better luck next time, with an even more interesting embaressment.. :-P
LOL, this was really funny!
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