aik din lady driver kay saath

The sun was melting the roads this Thursday, 18th of April when I left for work. I put my laptop bag in the car which looked like a sand-bag. It’s always filled with accessories, political stickers, CDs, pamphlets etc – activism on the go! On my smooth drive, I crossed Akbar chowk and paved my way on the main boulevard of Faisal town. As I had just crossed the traffic signal I was at a speed not more than 50KMpH when a Cultus over-took me at a high speed. This speed difference helped maintain a distance of about 15 feet between my car and the Cultus which had just crossed me. There was no turn, no signal, no heavy traffic and I was moving calm and steady with the Cultus moving ahead of me at a considerable distance to avoid any collision.

When the Gourmet restaurant chowk came into sight, I slowed down my speed a bit. But seeing no brake light of the Cultus moving ahead of me glow, I assumed the road forward is clear and the car ahead of me is moving straight at the same speed. A couple of seconds later, noticing the distance between the two cars reducing, I realized that the car ahead is going to play some sort of stunt. Seeing no indicator glow, I applied the brakes at medium thrust. All of a sudden the car ahead of me turned at 90 degrees to its right with no indicators and no brake lights on giving me no chance at all. My heart beat went abnormal for a moment but I regained my senses in no time, noticed the left side mirror to see if I have a chance to turn my car to left to avoid a collapse. My eyes went wide open to see a huge Daewoo trailing me on the left. By now I had visualized what is going to happen. I calculated the best possible option to opt for to minimize the loss and it happened to be – let the car go straight. I applied brakes to the maximum I could but could not avoid my car hitting the left rear end of the Cultus which had came out of the lane boundary as it turned in a rush to the right. Bump ! Thrassh !!! and that was it. I didn’t even feel as if my car was hit. There was not even a minor shock that I felt sitting in the car.

Before I could think, a crowd had already started gathering to witness the scene – as if they were waiting for years to see a Coure hit a Cultus. My dad, who was sitting besides me advised me to just relax and stay cool saying “khair hay, khair hay, kuch nahe hua. Relax. Gari side pe kar lo road block ho rahee hay.” As I rolled my eyes upward, I noticed a weird aunty up-and-coming. She must have emerged out of the Cultus which had just played this dirty trick, I said to myself. She was coming to me as if she will chew me out in seconds just the way Bengalis treat the fish. I ignored her totally stressed by the torture of pressure horns of dozens of vehicles lined up behind me. As I tried to ignite my car, I noticed that the bright rays of the burning sun which were lightning my car have been distracted. I turned to my right and noticed someone something weird as an obstacle in those rays resulting in the prevailing darkness in my car. In my confusion I could not give it much attention and continued to do what I was advised. As I turned the keys of my car to the right to ignite it, it was at this moment I realized there is some serious resistance…..

The weird something tried to insert its hands jaws into my car from the partially opened window as if a kid tries to insert its fingers through the protection cover of a pedestal fan. My dad politely said, ‘gari side pe kar lain zara.’ It was at this moment that I recollected that this something is the same weird aunty. The lady held the window glass of my car with as much force as she could as if she will take it out with a thrust and throw it to the farthest corners of Sahara desert. She then shouted, ‘ay gaddi ithoo nahe hil sakdi.’ I was a bit nervous by this time, courtesy the noisy chattering around, I instead heard something like ‘ye gaari meri lash se he guzray ge’. ‘Inshallah’, I said to myself J.

I rolled my window down and graciously told her to let me move the car aside to clear the road. The numbskull continuously resisted saying she won’t allow me at all to move the car no matter all roads get blocked or whatever, literally. Face turned to a West-Indian shade, eyes open wide to their elasticity limits and hands at her waist she hurdled my way. When the strength of her resistance speech was undermined by the loud torturing horns, the crowd started convincing her but she didn’t agree at all standing firm on her principle stand of not allowing me to move my car until Musharraf is impeached.

When the situation had got worse, the drivers of the buses which were blocked behind came out to make her understand. A few of the self-proclaimed eye witnesses and the wanna-be bhais guaranteed her that they wont let me run away. At this guarantee of them finally she allowed us to move the car aside. ( I wonder had she asked them to sign the stamp paper as guarantors ? ) Finally, I managed to clear the road and every vehicle from that lot which was blocked when passed by, started at me or burped the common two word Punjabi abuse – yeah right, that one !

Later, when I came out I was shocked to see how bad my car was hit – it was too ugly. The bumper, head-light, indicator, side panel – all gone ! The lady’s car, on the other hand had just a crack in the rear-bumper and one on the cover of the left back light. I had not yet spoken a word that the aunty, who looked like a female version of the ‘khushboo lagaa k’ character of the famous PTV drama serial Aanch was talking bullshits. The wanna-be bhai-jaans were already there to support her. I wo
ndered from where they all came as there were no more than a couple of old men at the site to see when the accident took place. Interestingly all of them were narrating stories of the accident as if all of them had been a part of it. One common sentence which all of them had to accuse me for this crime, as big as abrogation of the constitution, was that I had hit from behind. No one even listened to me when I peacefully told many of them that she didn’t even turned the indicator on, neither had she applied the brakes before she wanted to turn so that I can know that the car is slowing down or is planning to turn.

All my claims of me being innocent were declared null and void by virtue of Article 420 of Traffic Rules – “in any accident, the one who trails is the culprit.” I was unable to cope the total non-sense of one aunty of that caliber that another one appeared out of the crowd. Literally, I was scared to see this one. “dozakh se bus chali hoge aur ye sawari yahan aa k utri hogi” is what I said to myself when I first saw her. Dark black hair heavily oiled, may be with diesel or mobil-oil, more dark face creating darkness in the surroundings absorbing all the sunlight around and bad-odour which one could sense meters away. In a flash, I lowered my eyes to avail this opportunity to resolve the childhood mystery – churails really have inverted foot or not. But they don’t have, baaten hi bani hui hain, I said to myself then as it was confirmed. I was just trying to tell the aunty with serene about her mistake that this newly introduced creature jumped at me and tried to grab my collar. But all she could put a hand to was the band of my TRG employee card hanging to my neck. This was so unexpected that my mouth wide opened in surprise. I pulled myself back shocked by this uncultured, uncivilized behavior of hers which can be labeled torture as per human rights – calls for a protest at Lahore Press Club ?

The scary aunty moved like a chicken with its head cut-off, person to person taking them in her confidence to support her along the way. She called someone and in moments a gang was there. Two more khaufnaak aunties followed a very sasta version of young Sohail Waraich. A Chinese copy you can say manufactured in a unit based in Sri Lanka. Having had enough crap of the filthy aunties, my dad head to the just arrived man with them. As he uttered ‘na brake light thee na indicator aur gari moor di inho ne’, the guy raised his hands as to push my dad and said in piercing voice ‘ NAEEE, pichoo kinay maari ay ?’ I was calling up a friend at FAST to reach and then moved to that guy and told him the story. But that man….. just a naam-nihaad-mard he was. It looked as if the aunty has just kept him for her needs. Don’t be a filthy mind – I mean to do kaam-kaaj like brining double-roti and anday home for breakfast or Pampers for that matter.

The aunties dominated everything and everyone. To my surprise, four cops bolt-out-of-the-blue. Without knowing a bit of what had happened and how, they moved to me with the aunty shouting at me at a meter’s distance and said ‘thaanay chaliye fir.’ I laughed in myself as what a threat is this bastard throwing at me who has had a fantasy to be jailed since being an activist. The filthy bastards with no sense at all yelled ‘oye gal kiveen karna aain tu’ when I interrupted their bullshits and said ‘apko pata bhi hai hua kya hay?’ By this time the friend I had called was there. The bastards who remained there for ten minutes did nothing at all other than threatening me, lending support to their janam-janam-ki-behnachillars. Though I don’t have much experience with cops, but these are the dirtiest people we have on the face of this country – real bastards! Once Judiciary is restored, a movement must be launched against them 😛 and exploiting their identity of being a cop, rather

To my astonishment, I noticed someone passing by stopped, noticed what’s happening for not more than 10 seconds and went straight to the aunty. After lending her support, which she much needed at this cruelty, he left leaving her with his visiting card saying ‘muje call karain aap kuch bhi ho foran aa jaon ga me, Channel 5 me hota hoon me.’ This was way-too-much ! After all this, I was just expecting GEO TV cameramen and live coverage team to cover the most hot-news of the century and break it live. Being fed up of the total non-sense, crap and illogical bullshits of the aunties, I, with my friend moved to the male-aunty, the naam-nahad-mard and talked straight ‘kya karna hay?.’ I can’t recall what really happened but he said something harsh raising his hand to my dad. My friend grabbed him from his collar and pushed a turbo punch right into his stomach – reminded me of Mortal Kombat’s Sub Zero. Later, he remained as quiet and unconcerned as if he didn’t know the aunties.

After some non-sense discussion I offered the bitch, ‘bibi jo chaiye batao aur jaan choro aur nikalnay wali bat karo’. She insisted to take the vehicle to the Suzuki Motors workshop and get things fixed. I agreed, when she refused to take it to a workshop I had suggested. When I moved to my car, I noticed the other two shitty aunties investigating my car’s dashboard. They were looking for registration papers, thinking I will run away. I was so pissed that I moved straight to the workshop, got a new bumper, a new backlight and some other things the mechanic suggested from Montgomery road and got it fixed. It cost me something like 12K but it was worth getting rid of the bitches as sly as foxes, wily as coyotes, sick as dogs, crook as politicians and stubborn as mule.

Moral: Keep your eyes wide open on the roads for a female driver and if you find one – stop where you are until they are out of the sight.

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