LICENCE TO KILL!

This was an article I had written for my column "Flying Solo" for Mid-Day way back in 1999. And I'm posting it because it's relevant even today. Whatever happened to 'change is inevitable'??? Unfortunately, some things NEVER change in our country :-(

 

                                                      LICENCE TO KILL!

In the days when I didn’t own a car, it was not always easy to find a taxi to work.I would get late very often,something I really hated.

When I could finally afford it, I decided to book a Maruti 800 in 1993. My first car, I was really excited.

Since I didn’t know driving, I started looking for a driver. The search took a while, but I finally found the man who would be my driver. He was aptly called Musafir Singh.

My car was the best little car in the world and I was lucky to have found a driver who looked after my car like his own baby.

It was a pleasure travelling to work in my car. Musafirji was as particular about reaching on time as I was. I would even rest in the car after a tiring day at work. All was wonderful, till Musafirji fell ill.

My car stood wistfully while I looked for taxis. I was disgusted with my dependence on my driver and I made up my mind to end it.

The very next day I joined a reputed driving school.For a person who hadn’t quite mastered cycling, I had to overcome my mind blocks about driving. My instructor who wasn’t exactly trained in Psychology said, ‘Everything will be fine once you get on to the road’.

I was convinced by his confidence and thus began my driving lessons.

But the first BEST bus I encountered left me completely shaken. I practically put my feet up on the seat with fright and my hands were anywhere but on the steering wheel.

My instructor was unperturbed. He had pressed the instructor’s brake and had also taken charge of the steering.He didn’t bother to tell me that this sort of reaction will just not do.

My confidence increased by the day, but my driving skills didn’t.

The day dawned when I had to give my driving test. There were about ten students from our school, including me, giving the test that day. The instructors seemed nervous, but none of the students did.

When my turn came at the wheel, my instructor whispered to me, ‘ There are no safety brakes, please apply whenever necessary’. I didn’t understand the import of what he had said. I nodded confidently and smiled foolishly.

The RTO inspector sitting next to me ordered, ‘Start the car’.

I tried but the car just wouldn’t. After much coaxing it did. Once it did I found it difficult to do anything the inspector wanted me to.Not because I didn’t know how to drive, but because the inspector was ordering me around very rudely. None of the gears were doing the things I wanted them to and my feet kept pressing the accelerator, rather than the brake.

The inspector looked like a nervous wreck by the end of my test drive and asked me to stop immediately. My feet promptly pressed the accelerator and as I realised what I had done I just stopped putting pressure on either the brake, accelerator or the clutch, thinking this was the safest thing to do.

Finally when the car stalled and came to a halt, the inspector ran out of the car without once looking back.. I thought that was very rude of him.I looked at my instructor from the rear view mirror but didn’t find him on the backseat. He was crouching in a foetal position on the floor of the car. I thought he had stomach cramps.

 I offered to drive to a doctor, after all we had the car with us. He jumped out of his skin at the mention of a drive. That was when the first doubt crept into my mind. Maybe all was not well with my driving. I accused him of not teaching me properly. Not affected by this he said, ‘ Why are you worrying? We promised you a licence in one month and you will get it!’.

I wanted desperately for him to be proved wrong.While the others prayed for a licence, I prayed I  wouldn’t get one.The RTO inspector couldn’t be that corrupt. How could they give licences

to people who obviously couldn't drive? I could kill without being drunk.

I got my licence that day!

It’s lucky I have not used my licence to kill. But others do, everyday.