Hello friends
I am re-posting an old ode to my old car, an I10 which I had penned and shared on FB, many moons ago. I hope my new friends and followers (sounds cult like and flattering .-) ) enjoy reading this.
I am re-posting an old ode to my old car, an I10 which I had penned and shared on FB, many moons ago. I hope my new friends and followers (sounds cult like and flattering .-) ) enjoy reading this.
This was penned minutes after my beloved car, was driven away by its new owner. When I shed copious tears, well meaning friends and family consoled me: it’s just a car, that too an old Hyundai I10, they reasoned reasonably. This is my ode to my old car; I hope it brings to light the fact that it wasn’t just an I-10car.
It’s only an I10
You came to me one day, while I was still pining, for my old friends and friendlier city
and my old Maruti- your worthy predecessor: my first pair of wheels; entrusted to me with entreaties of safe, slow drives by my dearest old man.
I bid a tearful goodbye to your worthy predecessor, when I left my friendliest city, to stumble into the arms of my man.
My man and I struggled with being man and wife, pitted our horns, created joy, destroyed it, created joy, more joy, learnt how not to destroy it-so easily and ever so often. We procreated then, the greatest joy of all, and as he pushed unto our lives, we knew our union was blessed to be.
Time went by; I missed having my own pair of wheels, while the city began to thaw a bit
And one day you came to me. This time there were no entreaties to be safe and slow, women driver horrors, took over the show.
Not a scratch; not a scar, no grubby little palms, no dirty soles, no bird dare poop on it-my man said.
I brush away the horrors, with a swagger in my step. I rev you around in the now thawing city.
I have a reputation to live unto- I am a woman driver. So I have your silvery side scratched!
A beastly bus driver molested you. As I scream, the thawing city’s on lookers console my growing wrath. “Kucchh nahin hua”, they say, “dekho khali ek scratch hai”.
I now drive in to my Man’s righteous sermon. I scarred her I said, look I am bleeding too, and my Man looked disbelievingly, at my dramatic stance.
We ride on, through scars and dents.
We traverse the thawing city.
You share my toddler’s excitement, as he jumps into my arms, from his pre- school proudly brandishing the star on his palm. When he explores you with his curious fingers you stay so calm.
Come evenings, I fill you with chattering cherubs from our neighbourhood, you see, you are their favourite too. I take you for a spin, we go see a fire truck station, the cherubs climb all over you to get a good look, at the big red brute.
Who has been eating in the car? Thunders, my Man. I hurriedly wipe you clean, you help me hide a stray wrapper in your holder and give me a conspiring wink.
We are confidantes you and I. Behind your wheel, you give me wings.
You soon discover, hugs thrill me. They shrivel the shrouds of thoughts enslaved in my mind. So you hug me. Every time I come inside you, rev you, cruise you, you hug me.
We move homes. Oh, how you rise to the occasion. My little princess; crammed with everything, not worthy of the big King. Pots and pans, books and shelves, dirty laundry and clean linen, masalas and pastes, fish and marinated chicken for dinner tonight, all dumped into you in a harrowed haste.
Amidst cheers and tears (mine and your cherub friends) and promises to come back, we drive to our new home, you and I, smelling of ginger garlic paste.
We move into a home which opens out into an uphill hike- no less. With treacherous, blind turns and slopes, here you become my right arm.
Here peacocks trail our paths; they don’t run away when they see you approach. They know, you gentle soul, will not encroach.
We now, drop our boy to the bus and back, shop by the sack, and you my aging friend, know no slack.
We are eight now, you and I. You do age, as we all do. My man broaches carefully, talk of replacing you. “Though you remain a woman driver, you do need new wheels”, he avers.
You valiantly defy age; courageously go about your chores- but as all true lovers do, you urge me to let go. You whisper your exhaustion. As I wipe your brow, we both hug. We both know.
I hope, I found you a good home. I gave it, all I had. That’s the least I could do. A little girl awaits you. You will be her first car- but I am not as great as you are.
I am a selfish, flawed, human. Please don’t love her as much as you loved me.
Fare thee well my princess. Go; give your new owners the wings you gave me.
#I10CAR #ILOVEMYOLDCAR #OLDWHEELSEVERLASTINGLOVE
#HYUNDAICARS
It’s only an I10
You came to me one day, while I was still pining, for my old friends and friendlier city
and my old Maruti- your worthy predecessor: my first pair of wheels; entrusted to me with entreaties of safe, slow drives by my dearest old man.
I bid a tearful goodbye to your worthy predecessor, when I left my friendliest city, to stumble into the arms of my man.
My man and I struggled with being man and wife, pitted our horns, created joy, destroyed it, created joy, more joy, learnt how not to destroy it-so easily and ever so often. We procreated then, the greatest joy of all, and as he pushed unto our lives, we knew our union was blessed to be.
Time went by; I missed having my own pair of wheels, while the city began to thaw a bit
And one day you came to me. This time there were no entreaties to be safe and slow, women driver horrors, took over the show.
Not a scratch; not a scar, no grubby little palms, no dirty soles, no bird dare poop on it-my man said.
I brush away the horrors, with a swagger in my step. I rev you around in the now thawing city.
I have a reputation to live unto- I am a woman driver. So I have your silvery side scratched!
A beastly bus driver molested you. As I scream, the thawing city’s on lookers console my growing wrath. “Kucchh nahin hua”, they say, “dekho khali ek scratch hai”.
I now drive in to my Man’s righteous sermon. I scarred her I said, look I am bleeding too, and my Man looked disbelievingly, at my dramatic stance.
We ride on, through scars and dents.
We traverse the thawing city.
You share my toddler’s excitement, as he jumps into my arms, from his pre- school proudly brandishing the star on his palm. When he explores you with his curious fingers you stay so calm.
Come evenings, I fill you with chattering cherubs from our neighbourhood, you see, you are their favourite too. I take you for a spin, we go see a fire truck station, the cherubs climb all over you to get a good look, at the big red brute.
Who has been eating in the car? Thunders, my Man. I hurriedly wipe you clean, you help me hide a stray wrapper in your holder and give me a conspiring wink.
We are confidantes you and I. Behind your wheel, you give me wings.
You soon discover, hugs thrill me. They shrivel the shrouds of thoughts enslaved in my mind. So you hug me. Every time I come inside you, rev you, cruise you, you hug me.
We move homes. Oh, how you rise to the occasion. My little princess; crammed with everything, not worthy of the big King. Pots and pans, books and shelves, dirty laundry and clean linen, masalas and pastes, fish and marinated chicken for dinner tonight, all dumped into you in a harrowed haste.
Amidst cheers and tears (mine and your cherub friends) and promises to come back, we drive to our new home, you and I, smelling of ginger garlic paste.
We move into a home which opens out into an uphill hike- no less. With treacherous, blind turns and slopes, here you become my right arm.
Here peacocks trail our paths; they don’t run away when they see you approach. They know, you gentle soul, will not encroach.
We now, drop our boy to the bus and back, shop by the sack, and you my aging friend, know no slack.
We are eight now, you and I. You do age, as we all do. My man broaches carefully, talk of replacing you. “Though you remain a woman driver, you do need new wheels”, he avers.
You valiantly defy age; courageously go about your chores- but as all true lovers do, you urge me to let go. You whisper your exhaustion. As I wipe your brow, we both hug. We both know.
I hope, I found you a good home. I gave it, all I had. That’s the least I could do. A little girl awaits you. You will be her first car- but I am not as great as you are.
I am a selfish, flawed, human. Please don’t love her as much as you loved me.
Fare thee well my princess. Go; give your new owners the wings you gave me.
#I10CAR #ILOVEMYOLDCAR #OLDWHEELSEVERLASTINGLOVE
#HYUNDAICARS
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