I was just back from school after an exam. Due to Covid-related restrictions, school these days calls students less frequently to school, and even if there are any exams, even when mine is the highest class in the school – you cannot expect going to school for anywhere more than six or seven days in a whole month – that’s the peak.
In other words, I have to go to school very sporadically. Since my school is about 5 kilometers from where we live, I have to take some means of transport other than my own legs. I have made one little rule for the sake of simplicity and to save myself the effort of deciding which means to take every time I’ve to go: if it’s cool weather, or if there’s no direct sunshine, I will take the bicycle; if otherwise, I’ll hire an Uber bike. Sometimes I go by public transport when there is no bike to hire nearby, but both cost nearly the same – give or take a few rupees – and so I prefer the former. Since I am eighteen now, I tend to urge my parents to let me go by the scooter we have, but they simply shake their heads – I do not yet have a driving license. Too busy or lazy, whichever you think I am, I never find the time to go and get one made. Now with these Covid-related restrictions, it has got further delayed.
Coming back to the story.
That day, I had gone to school by Uber bike, because a sweltering day it was. I got free from school by 12.30 pm and came out from the back gate of the school (these days, the front gate is closed due to some public construction work going on the road facing it). The back gate of my school looks at a public park – I’ve never been there, but from outside, it looks beautiful. The road is usually clean because it is a high-income group area. On the right is some sort of contraption, I don’t know what it’s called but I can describe it: it has a metallic roof, a space that should have chairs to sit, and a space for a massive hoarding. It’s mostly shiny grey. It looks pretty much like a bus stop, but I know it isn’t. There is a railway line that passes nearby, but no route for buses. You get the idea.
Coming back to the story.
As I came into its shade to take out the mobile phone from my bag to book an Uber bike taxi back home, I spotted a dog.
Black fur, ruffian look, short height, a little timid – take the fiercest dog you’ve ever seen and blend it with the most cowardly one, and you have the creature that was there. He looked at me, I at him, and then both of us ignored each other. I got lost into the phone, trying to find a ride nearby. He, the dog, was just lazy, he wanted a place to lie down at and rest. He was the most broken-from-the-world, indifferent-to-everything being I had seen in a long time.
A car appeared out of nowhere and almost crushed him – most drivers have now known that these dog-folks have figured out when to get out of the way, just as this one did. He gave a little irritated bark, trucked away and after circling me (I gulped – it was a stupid little dog, but it looked fierce), it went back to its original position. Then a motorbike came and the same scene was replayed.
Just like that dog, I was annoyed – for my own reasons. Within some time of having taken post there, my ride had been booked, but since last ten minutes, the bike on the map – representing the driver’s location – was not moving anywhere, it was still as if pegged to that spot, like a lazy little moth.
When I cancelled the ride, the cab company imposed on me a cancellation charge. I was double-annoyed.
Then I had tried booking a second one. The second driver was similar too: stationary and unmoving. If I canceled this one, my cancellation charge would exceed the amount within which I would have otherwise reached home.
At this point, the dog looked at me, I at him, and we ignored each other again. This time both of us were annoyed.
A black cat brings bad luck, they say, I wondered, does a black dog too?
Finally, my call got connected to the driver being badly awaited by me, and he assured me he was coming in five minutes. Immediately, the moth-like bike representing him on the map began to slide and in no time, he was physically, really, visibly on the real road that extended in front of me.
He stopped in front of me, I checked the number plate, then hopped on to the back seat.
As the bike started to drive away, I looked back to see if the dog was still there. I saw him getting up, walking to the place I had been standing at, and sat down there like a mop. I wondered if I had been standing, all the time, without knowing it, at the poor creature’s sleeping place.
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