Bhatnagar, in a panic, asked the shopkeeper, "Oh! I just parked my car here a moment ago. Where did it go?"
The shopkeeper replied, "Sir, what can I say? The corporation's traffic police patrol around here, towing vehicles. There's no approved parking here, so they must have taken it."
Bhatnagar exclaimed, "But they should have at least informed me! I didn’t even hear any sound; they just towed it away?"
The shopkeeper, slightly annoyed by Bhatnagar’s abrupt tone, thought to himself that Bhatnagar hadn’t paid for the rabdi yet.
Bhatnagar then added, "Listen, my wallet was in the car. Take the rabdi back."
Hearing this, the shopkeeper softened a bit. "Oh, don’t worry about the money, you can pay me tomorrow. Just enjoy your rabdi." He thought, "This gentleman seems decent enough; he’ll surely pay tomorrow." The shopkeeper knew that Bhatnagar had already tasted a couple of spoonfuls, making the rabdi unsellable. He muttered under his breath, "Who’s going to eat this now?"
Just then, an elderly beggar woman appeared and, answering the shopkeeper’s question, said, "I will!"
Bhatnagar, already in a rush, wasn’t in the mood to eat the rabdi anyway. He said, "Go ahead, mother," and began flagging down an auto-rickshaw on the road.
An auto stopped, and Bhatnagar got in. The shopkeeper stood there, dumbfounded.
Once the rickshaw picked up speed, Bhatnagar suddenly realized he didn’t have any money on him. But he quickly reassured himself that he could pay the rickshaw driver once they reached his house.
Now, on top of retrieving his car, he had the additional hassle of getting money from home and going to the traffic police control room.
They hadn’t gone very far when Bhatnagar saw a large hole dug in the road ahead, with a pile of dirt beside it. It was hard to tell whether the dirt had been dug out of the hole or if it had been brought there to fill it.
Bhatnagar hesitated for a moment. The rickshaw driver said, "We’ll have to take a detour," and began trying to reverse the rickshaw. But in his haste, Bhatnagar leapt out of the rickshaw and said, "You go ahead, I’m in a hurry. I’ll walk across this hole and catch another rickshaw on the other side."
The rickshaw driver turned away with a look that suggested he was relieved to be rid of him.
As soon as Bhatnagar’s foot stepped into the sandy soil, he felt a strange joy. It wasn’t sand, though, but gravel. He kept sinking into the gravel as he tried to climb out, only to slide back down again. Like a child, he started to enjoy this game.
He hadn’t felt this way since he had seen such sand years ago by the seashore. The feeling brought him the same joy.
Oh! He had forgotten he was in a hurry to get home.
He quickly maneuvered to the edge of the hole, crossed the road, and stood once again looking for a taxi or rickshaw.
Luck was on his side, and he soon found a taxi. He waved it down, and it stopped for him.
Without wasting time, he opened the rear door and got in.
Once again, he was speeding towards his home.
The taxi driver seemed like a decent young man. Bhatnagar was sure the driver would happily agree to wait while he fetched money from inside the house to pay him.
Still, Bhatnagar thought it best to inform the driver beforehand, just to avoid any misunderstanding when they reached his house.
He was about to speak when suddenly his house appeared in front of them.
Oh, how did the driver know his house? Without any directions, he had brought him straight there.
"Just a minute..." Bhatnagar said as he stepped out and walked away.
(To be continued...)
