Experiences at the wheel

I am in my late seventies. Although my wife is older than me and hard of hearing, she never admits it — as is her wont. Ours was ‘love at first sight’ that blossomed into marriage.

Having an undying passion for driving, I recently got my licence renewed for another five years despite many hurdles and hiccups. For my wife and other family members, it was celebration time.

After the Partition, my family first shifted to Shimla, where I completed primary education, and then settled in Chandigarh. I got a driving licence at the age of 18. Those were the times when two-wheelers and four-wheelers were a rare sight on the wide open tree-lined roads of the City Beautiful. Prominent among the prized vehicles were Fiat 1100, Hillman, Morris Minor, Landmaster and Ambassador. The Standard Herald failed to create a buzz, and had to be discontinued.

We bought a Maruti 800 after a draw of lots in which I was among the lucky winners. We would go uphill to Kasauli, Shimla, Chail and other places in our car, which never let us down on the road. The vehicle was regularly serviced ahead of any jaunty trip to the hills.

In our old age, we take time out to visit places of worship around the city in the evening. We never miss the opportunity to visit a temple and be one with God.

One fine evening, as we came out of a temple after paying obeisance, we were in for a shock to see the left front wheel deflated. Even though a spare wheel was lying in the boot, we were unable to do the needful. We did a lot of hair-splitting, but to no avail. Enquiries from local residents revealed that no mechanic was available nearby. I saw a burly-looking beggar outside the temple and asked him to replace the wheel. He demanded Rs 500 for the task. After much haggling, he agreed at Rs 200. It took him about 20 minutes to replace the wheel.

On receiving the money, he told us that he wished to send his three-year-old son to school, but did not have the requisite funds. He broke down as he told us that he had started begging because he had no job. My kind-hearted wife promised him that she would pay his son’s school fee during her lifetime. She is keeping her word. The beggar’s bright son is studying in a reputed school. We regard him as our own son and he treats us like his parents.

Musings