Disclaimer: This is a satire.[1]
My Mumbai parents have jumped a few economic classes. They have done this in precisely three ways:
- They never take public transportation. They always take their car wherever they have to go.
- They never drive the car themselves. They have a driver to do that.
- They never go anywhere where they shouldn’t be going in a car. They shop in malls and big huge stores who call themselves Bazaar, instead of um... well, going to bazaar.
Well these three are the major ways. There are other subtle hints of their class: ornate deep blue and deep red furniture, dark brown drapes with gold trimmings and gold framed pictures on walls.
According to the Agreement of Class Change condition no. 2 they need a driver. So they have to put up with one.
Now this driver is a very nice guy, until he starts driving. When he starts driving he becomes a bad guy, the lord-forgive-them-they-don’t-know-what-they-are-doing kind. He yells at people who are wearing helmet of thorns carrying heavy crosses on their backs. Figuratively speaking of course. He doesn’t yell, he honks. A lot. All the time. Unceasingly. Unreasonably.
Yes, unreasonably. On at least 2337 occasions, in one trip, I have seen him honk at lamp posts, police barricades, road dividers, and old politicians. No reasonable person expects old politicians to move to the side and give way to others.
So I asked him, “Why do you honk so much?”
“Arre, when I honk, people move away and make place for the car.”
“But on the narrow roads in Mumbai and especially in a jam, there is nowhere for them to go. And traffic signals? Lamp posts? Have you noticed most of the times you honk nothing actually happens, nothing changes. Don’t you think you ought to try not-honking sometimes?” I reasoned.
“Arre bhai, you don’t know anything. You will never understand anything.”
“Ah haan. Please do go on.”
“Arre, you are a foreign educated man, what do you know?”
“Ah haan. Please do go on and talk about honking please”
“Arre...”
“Let me guess, I am too young, I don’t know anything; I have not lived in Mumbai long enough, I don’t know anything; and (against my best knowledge) I am a rich guy, I don’t know anything. That about settles every difference between us, let’s talk about honking now. ”
“No, there is another big difference: faith.”
“But I am a [religious group], same as you.”
“What does religion have to do with anything? Let me tell you a story...”
Once there was a king. He had an evil minister. One day another wise man came to the court, travelling from far away. This minister got insecure about the wise man taking his job, so he decided to pre-empt the guy into a battle of wit and make him look silly. So he asked the king to challenge the wise man. The king agreed and asked the wise man if he will accept the challenge. The wise man agreed.
The minister asked his questions first: “Is there a god?”
“Yes” the wise man replied.
“If there is a god, where does he live?”
“In our hearts” the wise man replied to much applause in the court.
“Is that so? Now, I want to see your god,” The minister said with an evil grin. He thought he had won.
“That’s crude!” I interjected.
“You may think so,” the driver replied, “but listen on.”
The minister started crying, “Stop! Stop!” The wise man asked why should he stop. The minister replied that he was in pain that’s why, silly bugger.
“And then the wise man must have said I don’t see any pain etc. etc. I get it, I get it.,” I was getting impatient.
And then I saw it.
There was an unmistakable golden aura around his head, a silver halo on top of it, and an inner glow. An across-the-mythologies-and-religions wise man! How had I failed to see this? A prophet was in front of me all this time, dressed as a driver. I was so ashamed, I did not dare meet his eyes.
“So you see,” he continued, now his voice was coming from many directions, from every honk on the road, “not everything is based on your worldly logic of cause and effect. Not EVERYTHING[4] can be tested and verified. Just like the existence of pain and god(s).”
“Yes Honking Baba! I have utilised the fact since childhood for bunking school with the world famous pain-in-my-stomach excuse.” I could not hold back and shed a tear. “Indeed! I now see why, whatever it may look like, honking must be the invisible force that clears up jams and moves other vehicles out of the way. Faith can move mountains, what are lampposts, road dividers and police barricades[5]. All of this has been happening around me I just did not have the eyes to see it.”
I learnt many more lessons for living a spiritual life based on faith from Honking Baba while he was with us. But one day my mother threatened him with a salary cut for not coming to work without prior notice. And after the next salary, like all great wise souls he vanished from the face of earth, without warning or a forwarding address. All that was left for us was the dust of his feet on the floor of the car – a rather generous amount of it.
Oh! How the world misses him. Now I am chronicling his teachings to spread his wisdom far and wide. That is what he must have wanted me to do. That is why he chose an unparalleled excellent writer as myself to share his secrets. If you agree with Honking Baba’s message, honk! Honk away.
Jai Honking Baba ki!
[1]That means it has been processed in a fact workshop where facts are twisted, shaped and coloured. Some small facts are also fabricated for making other facts fit together. For those readers that may not have the minimum level of sense of humor for reading satires, as recommended by the Indian Medical Institute, should refrain from reading ahead. The author(s)1a do not take any responsibility for incidentally instigated mobs, riots, or misinformed mass conversions to unknown religions.
1aAs if I don’t know how many people wrote this.
[2] At this the driver started looking around for one. Sensing what was coming, I urged him to continue the story without a demo
[5] A careful reader will notice that I did not breach the matter of old politicians in front of the enlightened driver. You can’t faith that problem away.
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