Impotence

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I should have spat at him, said Kyle. “But you should ensure you don’t spit on your own car.” Rohin said I should take into consideration the wind factor while spitting. Pablo had advice that cannot be reproduced here, but would fit perfectly well in hardcoretorture.com or some similar website. My mind was so foul that others in the office could point out the dark cloud hovering over my head.

Essentially what happened was that I was commuting in our long-term Maruti Suzuki Ritz to work this morning, and a yellow-and-black piece of metal crap swiped the car. I tried avoiding it and steered to the right, but there was no place to go - as there was metal scaffolding covering the flyover construction taking place. The moron driving the cab did not even bother to look behind, let alone signal; he just cut in to the right and dinged the Ritz’s fender and cracked the bumper. And simply drove on with the full knowledge of what he’d done.

After I recovered from the shock and from listening to that sickening sound of cracked plastic, I followed him, rolled down my window and subjected him to some excellent Hindi words that I have picked up from my well-meaning friends over the years. I paused, apologised to the couple in the back seat of the cab, and proceeded with my superb vernacular dialogue delivery. After one more sincere apology to the cab’s passengers, I posed vital questions regarding his antecedents: 

1. Does he know who his parents are?
2. At which dairy farm did he learn driving?
3. How does he relate to the women, other than his wife, in his family?
4. Is he an animal lover? If so, which animals does he prefer?
5. Is the presence of a rear-view mirror on his taxi against his spiritual beliefs?
6. Was the person who issued him a driving license his real father?

And so on and so forth. Afterwards, what? All I received was an apology from him and all I could do was snarl in frustration. Other than that, I whined and griped to all and sundry. And wrote this blog. It’s so bloody frustrating. So if the driver of taxi number 6064 is reading this – which I doubt because he was born in a maggot farm – then I don’t wish him well. I hope somebody takes that bumper off his cab and uses it to extract his teeth. One by one.