So, today someone commented that adult life seems very mundane. Mundane? I don’t think so! Well, MY life is as exciting as it gets. Take today morning for instance. I needed to get to work early in the morning. Now, there is one bus that passes through the bus stop closest to my house (which is about a 5-10 minutes walk depending on the sun, energy levels and time constraints) at exactly 8:35 a.m.
When I left my house at 8:35 a.m., I had a sneaky feeling that I would miss the bus. It didn’t take any ESP to figure that out. But I had to, just had to, catch the bus. It was the time to call in Secret Agent 835. I rolled my sleeves, put on my sunglasses, slung my bag tighter and pursed my mouth.
(Trumpet sounds)
(Voiceover) Secret Agent 835
(A Mission Impossible kind of background score.)
I walked in supersonic speed towards the rickshaw stand, zig-zagging through the hoards of human bodies (that seemed like statues. You know cause I was going so fast. You know Einstein theory of relativity. You know… Aah never mind)
I jumped into an auto-rickshaw and said in my coolest Secret Agent voice, “ Road. Linking Road.”
He glared back at me ‘Boni time (first sale/earning of the day) and a minimum- fare passenger.’ But we are not Secret Agents for nothing. A thick-skin comes with the job.
“Chalo. Chalo (Let’s go. Let’s go.)” I retorted ruthlessly. It took exactly 53 seconds for us to reach the main road.
“Left. Left. Ab u-turn lo. Jaldi. Jaldi. (Left. Left. Now take a u-turn. Fast. Fast.)” I instructed.
We took the u-turn and the rick-driver halted at the bus-stop. I popped my head out and asked a by-stander “Has 81 already left?” Either the guy was hard of hearing, or slow-witted, or had fallen deeply in love with me at first sight because he asked me ‘what’ three times. I could hear the clock in my head ticking as I waited desperately for his answer. Smiling, while I squirmed inside. For, we Secret Agents have been taught to control our emotions.
“It just left. Maybe you can catch up with it,” he finally answered. Ha! Just? It couldn’t have just left cause I was waiting for his damned answer for ages. Just indeed!
I thanked him and turned to the rick-guy. It was the time for some quick thinking. It’s a good thing we Secret Agents excel in thinking fast. Our brains work faster than Chacha Chowdhury’s. (Don’t ask me who that is. If you don’t know, you will not know.) Plan A dumped. Plan B on. Will not take the 81. Will take 83 from SV Road instead.
“Chalo. Chalo. (Let’s go. Let’s go.) Left. Left. Jaldi. Jaldi. (Left. Left. Fast. Fast.) Straight. Straight. Left. Left. (Straight. Straight. Left. Left.)
We stopped at the signal, ten meters away from the 83 bus-stop when I noticed the 84 on the other side. My super-fast brain was active again. Bus No. 84 goes to office as well. Plan B dumped. Plan C on. Will not take the 83. Will take the 84 instead.
“U-turn lo. U-turn lo. Jaldi. Jaldi. (Take a u-turn. Take a u-turn. Fast. Fast.)” I said to my totally unprepared rick-driver.
We managed to reach the bus-top just in time to spare a few seconds for me to find the right change and hand it over to the panting driver. As I climbed up the bus and looked back at the rick-driver, smiling my dashing Secret Agent smile, I saw the rickshaw collapse in a heap of metal and plastic.
Mundane did you say?
(The above story, except for the end, is based on true incidents in the author’s life. The characters are not fictional and any resemblance to anyone living or dead is totally intentional. The readers sympathetic towards the rickshaw driver will be happy to know that the rickshaw survived the ordeal and the rickshaw driver got more than the minimum fare.)
When I left my house at 8:35 a.m., I had a sneaky feeling that I would miss the bus. It didn’t take any ESP to figure that out. But I had to, just had to, catch the bus. It was the time to call in Secret Agent 835. I rolled my sleeves, put on my sunglasses, slung my bag tighter and pursed my mouth.
(Trumpet sounds)
(Voiceover) Secret Agent 835
(A Mission Impossible kind of background score.)
I walked in supersonic speed towards the rickshaw stand, zig-zagging through the hoards of human bodies (that seemed like statues. You know cause I was going so fast. You know Einstein theory of relativity. You know… Aah never mind)
I jumped into an auto-rickshaw and said in my coolest Secret Agent voice, “ Road. Linking Road.”
He glared back at me ‘Boni time (first sale/earning of the day) and a minimum- fare passenger.’ But we are not Secret Agents for nothing. A thick-skin comes with the job.
“Chalo. Chalo (Let’s go. Let’s go.)” I retorted ruthlessly. It took exactly 53 seconds for us to reach the main road.
“Left. Left. Ab u-turn lo. Jaldi. Jaldi. (Left. Left. Now take a u-turn. Fast. Fast.)” I instructed.
We took the u-turn and the rick-driver halted at the bus-stop. I popped my head out and asked a by-stander “Has 81 already left?” Either the guy was hard of hearing, or slow-witted, or had fallen deeply in love with me at first sight because he asked me ‘what’ three times. I could hear the clock in my head ticking as I waited desperately for his answer. Smiling, while I squirmed inside. For, we Secret Agents have been taught to control our emotions.
“It just left. Maybe you can catch up with it,” he finally answered. Ha! Just? It couldn’t have just left cause I was waiting for his damned answer for ages. Just indeed!
I thanked him and turned to the rick-guy. It was the time for some quick thinking. It’s a good thing we Secret Agents excel in thinking fast. Our brains work faster than Chacha Chowdhury’s. (Don’t ask me who that is. If you don’t know, you will not know.) Plan A dumped. Plan B on. Will not take the 81. Will take 83 from SV Road instead.
“Chalo. Chalo. (Let’s go. Let’s go.) Left. Left. Jaldi. Jaldi. (Left. Left. Fast. Fast.) Straight. Straight. Left. Left. (Straight. Straight. Left. Left.)
We stopped at the signal, ten meters away from the 83 bus-stop when I noticed the 84 on the other side. My super-fast brain was active again. Bus No. 84 goes to office as well. Plan B dumped. Plan C on. Will not take the 83. Will take the 84 instead.
“U-turn lo. U-turn lo. Jaldi. Jaldi. (Take a u-turn. Take a u-turn. Fast. Fast.)” I said to my totally unprepared rick-driver.
We managed to reach the bus-top just in time to spare a few seconds for me to find the right change and hand it over to the panting driver. As I climbed up the bus and looked back at the rick-driver, smiling my dashing Secret Agent smile, I saw the rickshaw collapse in a heap of metal and plastic.
Mundane did you say?
(The above story, except for the end, is based on true incidents in the author’s life. The characters are not fictional and any resemblance to anyone living or dead is totally intentional. The readers sympathetic towards the rickshaw driver will be happy to know that the rickshaw survived the ordeal and the rickshaw driver got more than the minimum fare.)
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