17 Aug 2007

15 Seconds of Power

Posted by Oblivion in General | 11:50pm

As I reached the junction, I noticed a speeding Ambassador. A melodious number played on the stereo and I hummed along. Traffic was absolutely still on all sides. After an hour-long dreary drive among insanely chaotic city traffic, this moment looked like a blessing. A moment, I thought, that I should either seize without ado or miss for eternity. Without a blink of thought, I pushed the accelerator down and manoeuvred the car to follow the Ambassador.

The car in front seemed to be driven by Narain Karthikeyan, and the road was unusually empty, but I was too elated by the moment to discern the oddity. Still humming the tune as the car accelerated, I looked at the rear-view mirror and saw a few Ambassador cars following at as much speed. A second or two later, it occurred - with a stratling fit of coming-to-terms-with-reality - there was something distinctly different about the drive. The aural faculty diminished in strength, the tune now moved into the background; the visual faculty turned more alert and I looked intently for signs. The revelation pushed me to the limits of alertness - I mistook the Ambassador for an idle speeding vehicle and hastily drove into a minister's convoy.

I heard the tune no more. My imminent mission was to get out of it. Caught between cars moving at great speed, it was no mean task. One wrong move and it would get only worse.

But before I could decide the method for accomplishing the mission, two police vans came racing past the cars as if to thwart a terror attack that has been designed to raze the city. The next second, one of the vans was right beside my car. The second van was behind it. "Gosh! Best of luck!", I told myself. The chap in uniform looked at me and said, "What are you up to?" He must've meant, "What the fuck are you doing, asshole?" After all, driving into a convoy was an intolerable infringement! Servant intruding master's space! The question, or doubt, "Who is the servant and who is the master?" does not belong to politics anymore; it is now strictly limited to the domain of metaphysics.

All the same, I looked at the chap who had just looked at me and asked, "What are you up to?" Nice cop: a sample of a minority race. I raised my hand and said, "I am sorry!" The cop was smart too - he instantly realized, "Ah! this guy can't be a threat. A dud!" With an assuring, quick smile, he said, "Move out!" Lucky day and a nice cop: a rare combination. "Thank you!", so saying, I pulled out.

A few seconds later, I was out of the convoy. Liberation. My 15 seconds of tryst with power ended. I stopped the car.

It took a minute before thousands of fellow servants, ordered to stop, started moving again.

Current Mood: Happy
Current Music: ---