It was the usual evening for me. Post dinner I made myself comfortable on the couch, playing the 8-ball pool game on my iPad, which I have gotten addicted to, while parents had all their senses glued to the nonsensical ranting from the very young looking mother of three grown-ups on the television. No sooner does the ranting get over and parents make their way to their room calling it a night; I get ready to battle my way through tough deadlines as I start my laptop to begin writing. Just then, I get a call from my best friend. I saw the phone buzzing, but chose to ignore it. He won't mind I know him, I said to myself. And then he called again.
That is the thing about best friends. They probably know you better than you know yourself, and that is why they are one step ahead of you, always. I had a lot of writing to do and I hadn't even started for the night, but then, that is the thing about best friends. You can hate them, but something within you does not let you ignore them.
"Where are you?" his patented first line.
"Home, where else." my patented first line too.
"Come down near the main gate, I am reaching in 5." he cut the call.
Honestly, we had been planning to catch up for the last few days but none of us made it eventually for whatever reasons. He had a few major events approaching which he had to talk about, and me, well, I generally always have something major coming up in life, which he wanted to know from me about. I walked my way down to meet him.
I really don't know if this is common with other best friends as well, but whenever him and I meet, we never know where we are headed. That night was no different. As soon as I got into his car from the main gate of my complex, we just start talking. And probably without him and me realising he started driving, with no where to go, he took the first left turn.
I asked him, interrupting from our conversation, "where are we going?"
"There was a CCD here right?" he said
"That thing got shut ages ago dude."
"Ah, ok let me take a U-turn." He turned around and got back to the junction from where he had turned left, took a right turn onto the same road and another U-turn from the next signal brought us back to the same place he picked me up from. This was very typical him and me moment. We always meet, even to date, without knowing where to go.
He parked the car to the side and inside the car, we both traveled places from Mumbai to Bangalore to Dubai to Surat and back to Mumbai within a span of 20 odd mins. We spoke about his new job switch, my experiences with the new girl I met for an arranged marriage recently, our unsuccessful past business escapades, and all that fell far and few between all the years that we had known each other. Somewhere amidst our serious conversation, I noticed him passing me a small bar of dairy milk chocolate, which I gladly accepted. He knew how crazy I am about chocolate and I know how much he hates chocolate, so there was no argument over who would have it all.
All along the time we were talking to each other, I held the chocolate in my hand. Somehow I resisted in opening the wrapper and having it then. I don't know what made me hold on to it, but I just kept fiddling with it in my hand as we got deeper into conversations.
After some time, there was a brief moment of awkward silence as if we had suddenly lost topics to talk about. Just then he noticed the idli and coffee vendor with his cycle standing near the car. Hungry that he was, he asked for an idli, and I settled for a cup of coffee which I needed since I had to stay awake for longer that night. Although the coffee was no match to the strong sugar-less latte that I am used to having at coffee shops, I ended up asking for it just because I can never say no to coffee. Be it any make.
It was 12:15 AM, time enough to call it a night. After trashing the idli plate and coffee cup in the bin, he got back to the driver seat and started the engine, when it made a weird and not so heavy screeching sound. At first, I did not notice the sound, but then a few more unsuccessful attempts at keying the engine, it failed to begin! The battery refused to spark.
"God Damnit, this had to happen now!" He cursed the heavens above. "What's wrong?"
"Dude, I guess battery problem. We will have to ask someone to push the car and you will have to pick it up while its in motion." I said. He looked at me with an expression which clearly read, I don't know how to do it.
I looked back at him with an expression that read, neither me dude! I know it can be done, but I do not know how to do it.
Since we were at the Malad link road, a place that is always busy, no matter what time of the night because of the many call centers and BPOs working round the clock in the vicinity, luckily there were people around us.
I asked an auto rickshaw driver and another tourist car driver who were around to help push the car which they gladly accepted. I along with them pushed the car while my friend was at the wheel trying to get the engine rolling, with no knowledge how to do it.
It had just rained some time back to the road was all wet with patches of water pool spread along the road. And I was in my shorts and slip-ons that did not help in any way for me to push the car and run along.
First attempt and it failed. Both the guys who first helped us resigned to the idea and left since we had pushed the car a fair distance ahead but my friend failed to start it. As we reached a few steps ahead, there were a few more rickshaw drivers who came forward to help us. Second attempt and he failed again.
Now, we went even further ahead in vain. This time, the rickshaw driver who had resigned after helping us in the first attempt came back. He willingly came forward, this time, while riding his rickshaw, he lifted his left leg and parked it on the back of the car and tried to push while driving his rickshaw. I was at the other side pushing it from the back. We again managed to push a fair distance, but no luck. The rickshaw driver left us in the dark, rode ahead. I could even hear a few choicest of abuses hurled slowly fading away in the distance.
"Dude, do you even know how to do it?" I asked him panting because of some serious efforts I had put in trying to push that car. "That car driver said you should put the car in second gear and try to release the clutch and accelerate at the same time while its in motion. Did you do that?"
"Dude, how will it work when the engine itself is shut?" he said. I was left expressionless.
Just then I noticed another tourist car driving towards us slowly. Let's talk to him and ask him to help. My friend, a Maharashtrian, asked him to stop and in Marathi explained him the situation and asked him to take the wheel.
Marathi helped this time again, I told myself. As was always the case with him. Be it the time when we were caught with liquor in our car while on our way to Tiger point, Lonavala, or at the time when he actually drove without a valid drivers licence in the city for a few months and not get the pauti.
Me and my friend pushed hard. This was the fourth attempt. I put my everything as I ran along while pushing the car from behind, not bothered about the dirty muddy water splashing on my feet or the uneven paver blocks actually hurting me slightly as I went along with the flow. I exhausted all my energy and almost reached a point where I was about to just give up when the car screeched, wobbled, and the sound of engine broke in as I instinctively gave a rather mellowed down cheer, YAY!
The car engine started, we exchanged pleasantries, genuinely thanked the driver and got into the car. "Dude do not stop the engine until you reach home now."
12:30 AM was the time and as he took another U-turn from the next junction and dropped me opposite my complex gate, I wished him luck, with a genuine smile, picked up my dairy milk chocolate and got off the car to leave.
As I walked back home, I somehow looked back at all these years of knowing this guy. We had experienced every unique, some bizarre episodes that any Bombay boy might have gone through from drunken nights, to arguments, to huge business ideas, to driving along without any destination, and to top it all, being hit by a police constable fiercely with his lathi outside the Wankhede stadium when we tried to jump the ticket queue. But this was a first. I had a smile on my face all along my way home. This was a small, probably insignificant episode in our lives, but the sense of achievement made me really happy. As they say, it is the small things that makes life seem beautiful.
I finally unwrapped my dairy milk chocolate as I walked back home. That night, it tasted much sweeter than it usually did.
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