Page 55 of Red Flags and Rishtas
Damn. I hadn’t thought he’d go there. I hadn’t been able to go back on my promise of a digital cover shoot for Deepti and Harsh, even though my boss had all but threatened to fire me if I didn’t somehow manage to scrap it. In the end, she’d given in, seeing as the couple were in no mood to back down.
‘All right,’ I resigned and said, ‘but you’re booking me a cab. I’m sick of explaining my cab fares to the accounts team.’
Preet clapped his hands together, his mouth wide open in gratitude. ‘Thank yousomuch. I truly owe you one,’ he said.
He walked me to the elevator, as if trying to send me on my way before I could change my mind. Once I was inside, he tossed me a set of car keys.
‘Forget the cab, just take my car,’ he said.
The keys hit my chest and fell to the ground. I bent down to pick them up, saying, ‘I’m not—’
…the best driver,I wanted to say. But the elevator doors had already closed.
Actually, that’s not the truth. I’m a textbook good driver. I always drive in the right lane, my speedometer never reads anything over 50 kmph and I don’t overtake from the wrong side – in fact I never overtake at all. I’m cautious, I follow all the rules and I don’t even hurl abuses at other drivers on the road. The problem arises at the end of the drive when I need to park my vehicle.
When I got my driver’s license a few years ago, my dad tried to teach me how to park in new spaces. He’d take me to crowded markets, unknown office buildings and malls for practise. And for the most part, I did just fine. But that was mostly because he’d tell me exactly what to do:start steering to your right, now go forward and straighten up the car, okay now reverse.It turns out that when someone isn’t doing all the physics andcalculations for me, my brain just can’t figure out what to do. And after finding myself in one too many stressful parking situations, I decided to call off the whole thing. Ever since, I’d been taking lifts from my dad and V whenever I could manage it, and travelling in cabs when I wasn’t completely broke.
So was driving a random colleague’s Honda City halfway across the city a good idea? No, it certainly wasn’t. Why did I do it, then? Maybe he deserved to have his car bumped, for coercing unnecessary favours from gullible, overworked colleagues.
When I entered Khan market, it was buzzing with commotion. I drove around the exterior, hoping to find an easy parking spot. But as luck would have it, the lot was completely full. The only empty spot I found was between two angled SUVs. I knew parking here required a certain amount of expertise, and even then, it’d be a tight squeeze. And yet, I decided to go for it. What option did I have? The store was going to close in fifteen minutes. I’d come all the way; it’d be silly to go back empty-handed.
I took a deep breath, put the car in first gear and went for it. Within the first two seconds, I knew that the angle was all wrong. The passenger side of the Honda City would definitely bump against the SUV on my left. So, I reversed the car and tried to undo the damage. Except there were two cars waiting behind me, and they began honking angrily as I tried to encroach onto their road space. I tried to go forward to let them pass, but somehow, I had even less space to proceed than before. I was stuck.
At first, I waited for a parking assistant to help me out. When nobody magically appeared at my side, I honked my own car a few times. Nothing. Seconds turned into minutes as I sat there, blocking the traffic and panicking wildly. The driver in the Range Rover behind me was shooting daggers at me through the rear-view mirror. A line of other drivers was waving andscreaming at me to get moving. And all I could do was sit there, hyperventilate and pray that the ground would swallow me whole.
‘Hey!’ Someone had walked up to the driver’s seat.
My first thought was that one of the angry drivers had come to harass me up close. But when my eyes focused on the man at my window, I realised I knew him. It was Karan, my OG Chauhan match.
I rolled down the window and said two desperate words: ‘Help me.’
He motioned for me to get out of the car, and I jumped at the chance of being rescued. He got in, reversed the car, did some sharp manoeuvring and less than thirty seconds later, the Honda City was snugly parked in its spot. The drivers who passed by gave me dirty looks, and one had a particularly annoying expression on his face when he took me in – like the past five minutes suddenly made sense to him because he’d found a woman driver at the end of it all.
‘Here you go,’ Karan said as he shut the door behind him.
I took the keys from him, feeling a rush of gratitude. ‘Thank you.’
‘No problem. It was a tricky spot,’ he said, shoving his hands into his Nike joggers. ‘What are you doing here though?’
‘Ah, I’ve got a work thing. You?’
We crossed the road and began walking towards the row of shops. Khan Market had always intimidated me. When I was in school, a bunch of my classmates used to celebrate their birthdays in the expensive restaurants here. Back then, no matter how much money I spent on their birthday gifts or my own outfit, I felt out of place and judged. These narrow lanes frequented by foreigners and the crème de la crème of Delhi’s elite represented a world I could never quite feel at home in.
‘I’m meeting a friend for drinks in a bit,’ Karan said.
‘Oh, nice.’ I wondered if it was a date, but guessing by the way he was dressed, I doubted it.
‘Is my brother going to be joining you?’ he asked.
‘No, why would he be here?’
‘You two are working together now, aren’t you? Besides, from what I hear, you guys do hang out a fair bunch,’ he said with mock sincerity.
I ignored his sarcasm and responded, ‘No, I’m just here to pick up some clothes. So, if you’ll excuse me …’
I halted at one of the lanes that led to the inner market, where the store was located.
‘Oh, I don’t mind walking you. I’ve got some time,’ he said, motioning for me to lead the way.
