It was a woman

In the quiet of Sunday’s afternoon, we were perhaps the only people who had nothing meaningful to do. As the lazy afternoon dripped still lazily into a listless evening, we (my friend and flatmate and I) were getting too bored of our virtual world. So we  set out to take a stock of the world and headed to the only worldly place in our home – our balcony. It overlooks a society road and doesn’t seem too satisfied having been a mute spectator to Delhi's changing landscape both physically and morally. Now it does have three more people to share its grief with, at least occasionally.

    

Looking at close to 60-70 cars parked in front of less than 20 houses on a rather deserted road but for a couple, we wondered if having an underground multi-level parking for each road in a residential society made any business sense. We agreed on the contrary though, thinking more parking space would mean more cars on the road and far quicker our ultimate destruction. That is how most of our discussions end. We love status quo.  

Closer home from the far lands of dreams, idealism and laptops, a story was unfolding right beneath our noses to which, intentionally or unintentionally, we were to become a part of. It did not attract our attention at first for there isn't a day when C-block Malviya Nagar does not wake up seeing two of its beloved sons entangled in a fight about something none of them own – a parking space. It would be tough to find a house in Delhi with proper parking facilities. Roads, hai na? They believe just hanging a board saying “No parking” or “Reserved Parking Space” gives them the right to (mis)appropriate government property and treat it as their own fiefdom. Delhi government would do well to act upon its notification of not registering a vehicle unless the owner showed a permanent parking space. But this couple standing near their car on the road looked in a spot of bother.

Apparently, they were waiting for someone and talked in hushed tone. They looked in their late twenties and were, perhaps, unmarried. We were perched right in front of them and they did, intermittently, look at what we were looking at. They, we felt, were stuck and needed some help. Not gathering enough courage to talk to us the boy got into his car and was trying to steer his way through two other parked cars. One, a red Maruti swift, was parked rather appropriately while the other, a silver Maruti Ritz, had been callously abandoned in the middle, yes in the middle, of the road. The sun was not being kind to them either. The girl, clad in a light pink suit, looked pretty and traditionally-modern. She was trying to help navigate their car through a slight opening but quickly gave up. She did not look comfortable a wee bit perhaps mindful of two sets of prying eyes and muted chuckles.

Honestly though, she had not been a part of our discussion till then and definitely not from a “save a damsel in distress” point of view. What amused us more was the foolhardiness even to attempt getting out of that narrow opening in reverse gear. For a moment I thought, Aman could do this but then I thought of the Great Greater Noida Expressway and I quickly dispelled the thought. 

He, on the other hand, kept trying and he would have succeeded if Maruti Altos were to come six inches thinner. A bright idea for Maruti to latch on to. Irritated he came out and tried pushing the Ritz but the it would not leave its ground. Either it was still in gear or had its hand brakes on. He  looked up to us rather expectantly; his eyes seeking help this time. But he decided against it perhaps looking at the company he had and scared by our broadening grins. 

Meanwhile as shameless Delhi citizens we fixed our stare on to them looking indifferent. My friend said…”help to hum das bar kar de…per koi bole to sahi. Age badh kar leader ban ne ka shaukh nahi hai hame”. They did seem to be in some hurry and all we had was abundant time. He once again started frantically walking across the road while the girl chose to stand facing away from us, a little perturbed and embarrassed with all the unwanted attention she was being showered with.

As my friend and I chatted away on their plight, we let out a generous dose of expletives for the Ritz’s owner who had thought that the only appropriate place to park a vehicle is right in the center of the road.  We could see his point though as all parking spaces had already been taken. He could have thought, we thought, that it would not take him more than a minute and he would be back before it even gets noticed. Else, we thought, the owner may not at all be a “He”. This definitely looked more probable. Our sympathy for the couple was intensifying. 

Indeed, the owner did turn out to be a woman eventually but you need to bear with me till I pull down the curtains on it.

He returned a couple of minutes later and saw us transfixed to our position and still staring in their direction and smiling. He went ahead to whisper something into his (girl) friend’s ears and off she headed towards the car. Wow, we thought, now the girl was going to try her hand at the steering wheel. Instead, to our utter surprise, she took the navigator’s seat and did not come out till they finally found their way out. We reasoned  out that it made sense for a caring boyfriend to keep evil eyes off her girlfriend and a heeding girl in tacit consent chose to oblige. Perfect for Huma Qureshi, I believe. She was right in indicating that dekhne se pahle hamein permison lena chahiye tha na. Only God and we know what we were looking at.

The distrust shown further fortified our shamelessness and we decided against budging an inch. Our hearts which had begun to show pity on their plight deep froze once again. He once again looked at us but the stern and unapproachable look on our face dissuaded him from making any further advances. He kept walking around and ultimately caught hold of a person who seemed to dwell in the same locality. After listening to his saga, he, the new entrant, took it as his moral responsibility to help them. He came right to us and asked, “Yeh red swift aapki hai?”. Had it been a Honda Civic, I might have said yes.  I have grown quite combative these days and taken a liking to arguing with auto drivers. I was so peeved at the idiotic question that I was about to say Yes. Could not these people realize, I thought,  that I would have helped them long ago if that were to be my car. I quickly rectified my answer to reply in negative. 

Remember that silver colored Maruti Ritz! It is still regally perched on the center of the road. It has been at least 25 minutes since and we still had no information whatsoever about its rightful owner. My friend suggested that a terrorist could have wantonly planted it there. We had a fleeting thought about calling the police. That would have given an interesting twist to the story, wouldn’t it? But it was not to be. A couple of more people joined the melee on the road and it promised an interesting showdown. But as it normally happens people were happier to recount their own tales rather than look for a solution. Growing restless I yelled from the balcony, “aap log 5 log ho, Ritz ko aage se utha kar side mein kar do”. My friend concurred saying that is how vehicles are towed away. But they never heeded to it. 

Finally, the newcomer was able to locate the owner of the red swift. He turned out to be living right above our flat. He walked on to his balcony and casually leant against it without any intention or urgency to get down on to the road. I do not what he was thinking but we thought it to be the height of callousness. The boy expectantly looked at the man above our balcony with a pleading face and imploring eyes.

Tailor made for a hero to make entry, right? Just that our Hero is a she. Pat came Her Highness walking in all her propriety and regal candor in measured steps; the Queen and the owner of Maruti Ritz. My friend and I had a hearty laugh on our prediction getting correct. We thought, this lady is going to get a mouthful today. We were all ears as the discussion turned into a heady altercation. The crowd yelled in unison at sheer dumbness. A sardar ji also trudged along to provide some comic relief. We were definitely on the edge as the tense climax drew near.

I saw the boy get animated but his voice soon fizzled out like a damp squib. Did we hear them right? We could not believe our ears. Her royal highness was making her point gently and slowly the crowd concurred and began to find more sense in her words. The lady was pointing out that that she had strategically placed her car on the road so as to block his exit. This guy, she was saying, had been parking his car on a daily basis on her main exit. And would you believe it, this lady, even had some space in her home earmarked for parking. She did not claim the space outside her house as rightfully hers but complained of being denied what was legally hers. The boy appeared dumbstruck. 

I do not know about that boy and the girl but we were definitely ashamed thinking that in Delhi you do not have people with right scruples and definitely not a parking space at their place. We were delighted to think that she did that just to teach someone a lesson. I definitely grew more and more appreciative of her and felt guilty at heart at my prejudices.

                 

Standing on the balcony, I have witnessed many an incidents which have ranged from being mundane to hilarious but none like this which sent all my prediction abilities and my pride in doing so for a toss. In the melting pot of Delhi’s belly where two extreme societies merge and thrive, such incidents unfold with elan every day. I was just lucky to be a part of one.

Till we meet, Hasta la vista.