Beauty or beast
...
Five kilometres isn't much for Zen. Ulloor, the small city suburb was hardly any distance from my clinic. As I started my Zen heading to Ulloor, I'd no inclination whatsoever, on what was about to just happen.
'Ulloor' might bring scary school memories to many. Kunjan Nambiar was my personal favourite. Kumaranasan and Vallathol were reasonable. Ulloor was tough, really tough. Though he's reckoned as one of the best in Malayalam poetry till date, frankly I'm scared of this literary giant. His poems were really hard to crack. My trip to Ulloor however had very little to do with poetry.
I've a friend in Ulloor. Though mostly he's like Kunjan Nambiar, at times he is serious like Vallathol and sometimes scary as Ulloor himself. So unpredictable! Yet he's close and sweet and we decided to travel to Sabarimala together. I meticulously observe fast during the pilgrimage months and visit the shrine every year. My friend has a 'Kunjan attitude' towards fasting, but was a devotee nevertheless and a pleasant company too. I was keenly looking forward towards both the pilgrimage and the trip.
Zen came to us few years back. My friends might frown at the 'few'! But who doesn't know that like age, cars make also isn't usually revealed. I'll put it this way. When Zen came my kids were in kindergarten. Some of you atleast know which class they are in now and thus would have guessed the car's age. So be it! Did I ever claim it's new. Some oldies say it's old. I pardon them for not knowing that 'old is gold'. My friends might have changed atleast three cars during the time, but I stuck with my Zen. Whenever wife protested, I used to clean bowl her with one statement, Hey, I can't think of changing two things in life - Zen and You. I'm not sure whether it made her happy or sad, but she wouldn't argue further.
My son is an automobile freak. He, unlike me, is up to date with all cars - looks and technicalities. My knowledge was limited. To me car is defined as a four wheel structure which helps you travel from point A to point B. My daughter, as a kid used to go furious at my definition. She wondered, how come Appooppa (my dad, who's another car freak) gets to change his car every two years and we are stuck with the same Zen. Yet, we all loved the little Zen. He was part of our family.
How often have we driven to beaches, hills and resorts in our little Zen. Where all has he taken me to. So many crucial meetings, huge turmoils, such a lot of ups and downs. He has never complained, never hesitated to start at the first go, never had a puncture and never have betrayed us on the road. I was sort of getting addicted to my cute little machine. I simply loved my Zen. While I was mocked at many a times, in many friends gatherings for driving an old car, laughed upon when Zen roared while starting at times, I just kept my cool, for I loved my Zen.
I don't think I gave the car anything other than love. I hardly ever serviced it, didn't bother about oil change or replacing spares. I was doing what Hero Honda asked us to do when we were youngsters - "Fill it, shut it, forget it". I just filled petrol and drove around, yet the Zen behaved disciplined like a little school boy. At teens, however he began to be rebellious. He started to resist and roar and I had to be serious in feeding oil and changing spares. Yet he behaved well, though with some coercion. I began to realise that not only did I love him, he loved me too. Still for past few years I wouldn't take him on long drives as before. I would take my dad's latest dude instead and rest Zen for short city trips. Ulloor was indeed very close and was no great deal for Zen.
The plan was to drive to my friend's house, park my car there and then go to Sabarimala in his Verna. 'The car and driver were ready' he told, but the owner didn't seem too keen. He had a flu and got scared by the Okhi warning too. As I was driving to his house he told me over phone that he wasn't coming to the hills and that I could go alone in his car. I had hardly started from my clinic and was just nearing the first junction. It was too much for my vanity. I politely refused and then thought for a split second on how I would go alone. I had already filled the erumudi in the morning and had no choice but to go to Sabarimala. As I reached the junction I'd made my decision - I would drive my Zen to Sabarimala.
"You are your best friend", my wife would often say. Actually I never disagreed. That, I've found is the only way to get my stupidities accepted without arguments. So I headed to the nearest pump, filled petrol, pressed the accelerator, and sped away to the hills - alone! The trip did live upto my expectations. The threat of Okhi winds and rains didn't the least hamper the thrill of long distance drive and liberty of zero conflicts. Though Zen hadn't travelled more than fifty at a stretch in last couple of years, I knew my Zen wouldn't let me down.
It was already late noon when I started and I was speeding through the highways for I wanted to reach the forests before dusk. The traffic wasn't heavy because of the bad weather forecast. Still by the time I reached the foothills it was already pitch dark. I'd no choice but to keep driving. Car stereo refused to give company and I switched on the mobile for some devotional songs. The battery line was soon thinning. My foot steadily kept pressing the accelerator. The darkness was increasing and apart from the car's faint light there was nothing in sight. It was indeed dark and lonely in the thick woods. I didn't think too much, just sang with the phone and kept driving. Soon lights began to appear and I was so relieved to be near the shrine. Against all odds we (me and my Zen) reached Pampa by night. I gave him a friendly pat and lost no time to climb the hill and have darshan the same night. Everything went off blissfully well.
While climbing down I wasn't as wary as the previous night. I was going to drive in day light and that too into the plains. Being alone gave me the luxury to choose any route and even wrong my way. I didn't have to explain. I decided to visit my kids at Kottayam spend the day with them and then drove back home through the highway that night. Zen brought me back without a single hitch. He was as delighted to see my kids as they were in seeing him.
What started as a five kilometre drive ended up as five hundred. Was it beauty or beast? I think for the beast in me, Zen is a beauty. Infact the best I know.
Five kilometres isn't much for Zen. Ulloor, the small city suburb was hardly any distance from my clinic. As I started my Zen heading to Ulloor, I'd no inclination whatsoever, on what was about to just happen.
'Ulloor' might bring scary school memories to many. Kunjan Nambiar was my personal favourite. Kumaranasan and Vallathol were reasonable. Ulloor was tough, really tough. Though he's reckoned as one of the best in Malayalam poetry till date, frankly I'm scared of this literary giant. His poems were really hard to crack. My trip to Ulloor however had very little to do with poetry.
I've a friend in Ulloor. Though mostly he's like Kunjan Nambiar, at times he is serious like Vallathol and sometimes scary as Ulloor himself. So unpredictable! Yet he's close and sweet and we decided to travel to Sabarimala together. I meticulously observe fast during the pilgrimage months and visit the shrine every year. My friend has a 'Kunjan attitude' towards fasting, but was a devotee nevertheless and a pleasant company too. I was keenly looking forward towards both the pilgrimage and the trip.
Zen came to us few years back. My friends might frown at the 'few'! But who doesn't know that like age, cars make also isn't usually revealed. I'll put it this way. When Zen came my kids were in kindergarten. Some of you atleast know which class they are in now and thus would have guessed the car's age. So be it! Did I ever claim it's new. Some oldies say it's old. I pardon them for not knowing that 'old is gold'. My friends might have changed atleast three cars during the time, but I stuck with my Zen. Whenever wife protested, I used to clean bowl her with one statement, Hey, I can't think of changing two things in life - Zen and You. I'm not sure whether it made her happy or sad, but she wouldn't argue further.
My son is an automobile freak. He, unlike me, is up to date with all cars - looks and technicalities. My knowledge was limited. To me car is defined as a four wheel structure which helps you travel from point A to point B. My daughter, as a kid used to go furious at my definition. She wondered, how come Appooppa (my dad, who's another car freak) gets to change his car every two years and we are stuck with the same Zen. Yet, we all loved the little Zen. He was part of our family.
How often have we driven to beaches, hills and resorts in our little Zen. Where all has he taken me to. So many crucial meetings, huge turmoils, such a lot of ups and downs. He has never complained, never hesitated to start at the first go, never had a puncture and never have betrayed us on the road. I was sort of getting addicted to my cute little machine. I simply loved my Zen. While I was mocked at many a times, in many friends gatherings for driving an old car, laughed upon when Zen roared while starting at times, I just kept my cool, for I loved my Zen.
I don't think I gave the car anything other than love. I hardly ever serviced it, didn't bother about oil change or replacing spares. I was doing what Hero Honda asked us to do when we were youngsters - "Fill it, shut it, forget it". I just filled petrol and drove around, yet the Zen behaved disciplined like a little school boy. At teens, however he began to be rebellious. He started to resist and roar and I had to be serious in feeding oil and changing spares. Yet he behaved well, though with some coercion. I began to realise that not only did I love him, he loved me too. Still for past few years I wouldn't take him on long drives as before. I would take my dad's latest dude instead and rest Zen for short city trips. Ulloor was indeed very close and was no great deal for Zen.
The plan was to drive to my friend's house, park my car there and then go to Sabarimala in his Verna. 'The car and driver were ready' he told, but the owner didn't seem too keen. He had a flu and got scared by the Okhi warning too. As I was driving to his house he told me over phone that he wasn't coming to the hills and that I could go alone in his car. I had hardly started from my clinic and was just nearing the first junction. It was too much for my vanity. I politely refused and then thought for a split second on how I would go alone. I had already filled the erumudi in the morning and had no choice but to go to Sabarimala. As I reached the junction I'd made my decision - I would drive my Zen to Sabarimala.
"You are your best friend", my wife would often say. Actually I never disagreed. That, I've found is the only way to get my stupidities accepted without arguments. So I headed to the nearest pump, filled petrol, pressed the accelerator, and sped away to the hills - alone! The trip did live upto my expectations. The threat of Okhi winds and rains didn't the least hamper the thrill of long distance drive and liberty of zero conflicts. Though Zen hadn't travelled more than fifty at a stretch in last couple of years, I knew my Zen wouldn't let me down.
It was already late noon when I started and I was speeding through the highways for I wanted to reach the forests before dusk. The traffic wasn't heavy because of the bad weather forecast. Still by the time I reached the foothills it was already pitch dark. I'd no choice but to keep driving. Car stereo refused to give company and I switched on the mobile for some devotional songs. The battery line was soon thinning. My foot steadily kept pressing the accelerator. The darkness was increasing and apart from the car's faint light there was nothing in sight. It was indeed dark and lonely in the thick woods. I didn't think too much, just sang with the phone and kept driving. Soon lights began to appear and I was so relieved to be near the shrine. Against all odds we (me and my Zen) reached Pampa by night. I gave him a friendly pat and lost no time to climb the hill and have darshan the same night. Everything went off blissfully well.
While climbing down I wasn't as wary as the previous night. I was going to drive in day light and that too into the plains. Being alone gave me the luxury to choose any route and even wrong my way. I didn't have to explain. I decided to visit my kids at Kottayam spend the day with them and then drove back home through the highway that night. Zen brought me back without a single hitch. He was as delighted to see my kids as they were in seeing him.
What started as a five kilometre drive ended up as five hundred. Was it beauty or beast? I think for the beast in me, Zen is a beauty. Infact the best I know.
No comments:
Post a Comment