a terrible painter, a dreamer, a rebel , a feminist and a self certified bisexual Witch. Who is always trying to visualize whats on the other side of the canvas she paints,just another human- Living alive Life. Now also a green tea addict.

Saturday, 21 September 2013

Drive-A-Vu part-I

{This is going to be several part article series. Since I have got few complains of being repetitive in my feminist outlook and missing my humourous pieces, so today I try to write one. The pleasure writing is about my experience of driving lessons I had to endure. }

On my mother’s fifty first birthday our new grey shiny car arrived. After years of travelling in government authorized cars my father had the great enlightenment of buying his own just a year before his retirement.  With the advent of the car came the first problem, who would drive it. At the precise moment the ever enthusiast sister of mine was ready to drive the car without any prior idea about driving car. Yes she was home, which meant normalcy was far from sight. 
Hence the hunt for driving instructor began. I asked my major mates, my father asked his personal chauffeurs, but the target was hit by my mother and sister duo. The son of our family friend found us one.  So the poor fellow had the great task of teaching us driving. He had three different types of students the human version of the Macbethian  witches. The born dare devil- my elder sister. The Mr. know it all - Son of our family friend and finally the eternal coward- me.
So on third August was our first struggle with the car began. To make it as honest as mirror the struggle was purely mine.  The car said goodbye to our home in which sat three nincompoops and an extremely calm adult (technically younger than my sister but an adult in every sense).
 Our calm adult belongs to army, hence I expected him to be very loud, ferocious, strict and scary looking. But my every expectation was turned into ashes. He was too soft spoken, strict but too nice, no sign of ferociousness and far from scary looking. It seemed he was the little rabbit who was going to be eaten by the lioness waiting in the car. My fears came true, the creature in the car was too scary to be handled and our Bunny Instructor was to be gobbled up. Let’s call our dear army brother Bunny Instructor.
Our other companion is the son of our family friend. Being a male in human society had given him the fair advantage of knowing about cars in details. Since the male breed of this nation is practically born on bikes, he had knowledge of clutch, break, accelerator and gears. Road ethics were induced too, which was all contributing to his nature of Mr Know it All. Hence our family brother is called Knowing.
People who have been reading my boring life know the importance of this character. One of the main contributing characters of my life even before my birth and even before gods had decided my sex. My sister who has the supernatural ability to mould every danger and fear that resides in me into her football and kicks that ball to my face. This woman had no idea about driving car but her grinned could device the devil. So confident, radiant and ready to hit the road and rock the roads. So the forever Daredevil was inside the car and itching her fingertips which were throbbing with “I want to drive desire”.
Finally we have me the eternal coward, who foresaw all the silly, grave, gruesome, scary visions in broad day light. I had few personal self experimented experiences with car, hence I knew about clutch, break accelerator and gears. Still I was a wet cat unwilling to leave her cozy couch. Let’s call me the scared Cat.
Our car was taken out by Bunny instructor and our first ground of learning happened to be my Pink College.  Pink College has a huge grazing field, where we sit and share our space with cows, goats, dogs etc. The open field had been a popular spot for learning driving. Alas it was going to mine too which was ringing in my head.  First Daredevil was handed the  honour to start the car in green field. So the loud sound of colliding clutch and accelerator must have woken whole Pink College up. The car was filled with smell of burned oil, but the grin of Daredevil grew bigger with every thrust.  Soon the car was circling like a mary-go-round.   So the broom broom and ditch broom ditch broom went on. 
Next Knowing took the control over. He too woke up whole district with is clutch-accelerator fusion. It was loud and louder with every turn. It seemed our new car was the victim of bride burning cases, she smelled burned oil.  Knowing is our Bunny Instructor’s classmate hence to Knowing’s dismay his priority reduced.
I was in my new car, on the ground of Pink College, wearing the uniform I loathed most. Everything said me don’t drive today. Scared Cat wished to be eaten up by the earth, nothing happened. Hence my first day of acquaintance with new car was destined to happen when I was in my pinkish uniform. So Bunny Instructor asked me start the car, which I did. Next he asked me to press the accelerator and release clutch slowly. While following this procedure, the car jumped, it shaked but for me it was a jump. The car went dead; the smell of burnt oil was again hanging in the air. Again I started the car, same death blow took place. After third attempt my car moved forward, with every second passing I felt my tummy turning and churning inside. In this fear I took two turns of driving, driving straight, sideways, aimless and very tamed. By this time my class time had been ticking in. So I left the grey car with its inhabitant in a shaky manner. I left like an ending scene of an Anime where credit rolls and you know your character won’t meet those people again. I had rolled the credits in my sleeves, but what I had experienced was the prologue to the process. I had to see them again next day. As I walked away from the car, I chose to remain aloof from the afterward part. Still the story was far from it real beginning.

P.S- Yes I am a scared cat

Thanking you to bear with me                                                                                                                             paulOaries

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