Standing at the junction of the T road, Christ The Redeemer of Ahmed colony pointed his left hand to Lord Ganesha, caged inside a temple at the end of the western road with the little Mooshik to his company.
Beside the temple, Ravi, a young engineer, kicked his bike with all his might; the morning sun had oozed everything out of him. After a minor accident the night before, his bike was attended by an exiguous mechanic, less than half his age and as ignorant as him. Presently his bike wouldn’t start with a thumb, it cried for a whole leg.
It must’ve been Lord Ganesha’s grace, or was it Jesus’ forefinger which did the trick, nevertheless his bike began to smoke. Ravi accelerated and turned to his left, to the northern road, He couldn’t afford to stop acceleration before reaching the mechanic, for it would sweat his legs all over again. His bike was in a mess, nothing worked as it should be.
A bright dot seemed to move towards him, it was a lady on a Scooty wearing an ill fitting costume with a mismatched pair of shoes. She must‘ve deserted the tag “middle aged” when Ravi was a little kid. As she came closer to him, she held her right hand in the air and pumped an invisible horn, like the green horn one would find in a yellow three wheeler.
Ravi smiled at her, the least he could do. The lady shook her head, with a hint of superiority, though her teeth’s weren’t as bright as her head lamps. Her headlamps were ablaze.She sped past him with a feeling of having helped someone so early in the morning.
The exiguous mechanic must’ve been a thief; there was no way by which Ravi could stop another altruist from pumping yet another invisible pump in front of him, for the headlamp switch was missing.
