Travelogue 5: Breaking The Law

Its really good to traipse around once again in this completely unknown corner of the Internet. Or the blogosphere, as some smartasses prefer to refer to it… If anyone has come by in the last two months, which i sincerely doubt, and wondered why there’s nothing new, which no one really cares about, its coz i’ve spent the last two months busy as a soul dead slave ready to obey every bidding of my corporate masters. But, and this is the part all you readers who have taste must dread, i’m back!

Since i’m incapable of coming up with more stuff that attempts to be intelligent and funny at the same time, i’ll move right to the point.

Premise 1: It is necessary to have a license to drive a two-wheeler
Premise 2: It is necessary to wear a helmet when doing so

My license has the photo of some drunk-looking scruffy-vagabond-type fellow. I dont know how, but whenever they get your pic for any sort of official document, they manage to make you look truly hideous. Suffice to say the license guys did not catch me lookin’ at my usual spectacular best. Here, i must mention that my license, as of now, has been expired for around three months now. That, even in the eyes of the twisted nonsense that passes for law in bloody India, makes my being out on the streets being all cool whilst driving my mother’s gearless scooter quite illegal.

I’m not too cool with the helmet bit actually. My personal opinion is that i should be free to injure/kill myself through negligence. Then again, it has saved me what woulda been yet another head injury…

Anyways, i was cruisin’ the streets (can i really say that for a fuckin’ scooter?) last month… minus the helmet, in a rare break from the usual. Which is exactly why i caught the eye of a member of those supposed guardians of the law. Unlike the fat fucks populating Mumbai’s police force who even a child could outrun, this guy looked like he meant pure business. For me, that meant pure trouble since i was about as illegal as one could get.

Even as this worthy soul blew on his whistle and motioned me to stop while pointing at his head, i simultaneously did a mental “oops,” skipped two heartbeats, sharply drew my breath in, and then briefly contemplated gunning the throttle. Would i be reprimanded? Fined? Should i make a break for it???

Btw, here, i must say i’m writing this particular thingy simply to annoy the vast majority of my friends because i possess a singular advantage in certain situations that they will absolutely never enjoy.

Even as the copper walked toward me, a glimmer of hope. Something about the overall “look” suggested a weakness, one that i would, and did, exploit.

To digress slightly, being born into a Maharashtrian family, i unfortunately and much to my disgust, find myself tagged as being the same. Lemme be honest. I make a horrible Maharashtrian. i dont know the festivals. traditions. culture. and as far as the language, all i’m capable of is the basics. read that as i can irritate/annoy/abuse people, quarrel/argue/fight whenever necessary, and importantly, i can ask my mum for food.

Maharashtrian males from the generation previous to mine have a typical look, especially the coppers. The fellow striding toward me fit the bill perfectly. It’s in such situations that i dont mind relaxing my standards a bit. Before the fella could even say a word to me, out rushed a stream of apologies, in Marathi. Sure he demanded to see my license. That wasnt gonna stop me from stating my bullshit excuses. That brief, yet strangely funny exchange went kinda like this…

“Where’s your license.”

“Oh sir, i’m so sorry i’m not wearing the helmet. You see, i’ve lost my usual helmet, someone stole it, and the one i have is my mother’s and it doesnt fit me very well.” (this part is true. i have flappy ears that kinda stick out like those of an elephant. in fact, i can even wiggle them!)

“But…”

“You see, i have the helmet right here under the seat.” (scrambles off bike. removes helmet from under the seat. makes a show of struggling to fit it on supposedly oversized head.)

“I see…”

“Sir, i’m really sorry i wasn’t wearing it. You see, it doesnt fit me very well.” (points at poor ears that cant flap no more.)

“Ok Ok. What’s your surname.”

(blurts out good solid Marathi surname. ah, i’m such a bastard…)

“I see. Your license is in order right?” (well well… surely the law can take a backseat for a fellow Marathi man.)

“Yes, yes, absolutely. I’m really sorry sir, i’ll wear the helmet till i get home even if it hurts.”

“Yes, please do so. See, it fits you so well. And you know the rules…” (my, what a turnaround.)

“Yes sir, i know the rules. I’m really sorry, i’ll wear it all the way home.” (not even remotely ashamed at this point. rather gleeful in fact.) “Can i leave?” (from lawbreaker to helpless fellow Marathi man in awe of oh-so-mighty cop in the blink of an eye. well, a few blinks at any rate. i really am a hypocritical bastard…)

“Yes, yes. Go on now.”

(drives off into the night.)

On such vagaries is the law applied in this crazy metropolis.