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The first time I was driven in a car by a lady was in the mid-1980s in Delhi where I was on my one-off official visit. I had no idea of how to drive a car then...mine was a scooter generation and I was rarely even a passenger in a car.
During a break in my official work I visited my cousin's place and found that her hubby was away on deputation for a year elsewhere and she was staying back in Delhi for their daughter's schooling. She fed me sumptuously and drove me to what she called Palika Bazar in her car. I could see that she was an expert driver and asked her if she learned her driving from her hubby. And she said:
"Oh, no! He never lets me drive saying he has enough tension with his job in his office and wants none on his return home...he has his Staff Car that drives him to his office and back, and our personal car is for weekend shopping. As soon as he left Delhi, I went to a Driving School and they taught me well."
I thought the pair were eminently sensible.
And they were in Madras after a couple of years and I happened to visit them again. The hubby had a heart attack and a bypass surgery a month before and was advised not to drive for a year. I asked my cousin if she was doing the family driving. And she said:
"Oh, no! I can't drive in Madras!"
"But you were driving so well in Delhi, and Madras is a village compared to Delhi"
"Precisely! In Delhi every main road has a divider and parking lots aplenty. In Madras there are no dividers but just a thin yellow line called 'Lifeline' instead of a divider. And the roads are narrow, traffic pellmell, and the cops are rude. We employ a driver nowadays"
Once again I thought how sensible she was.
And their teenage daughter did the rest for them...she crashed their car into a city-bus, driving it without her parents' permission and barely escaping jail...she claimed she learned her 'driving' watching a bus driver drive his bus...pushing the clutch, engaging the gears, pressing the throttle, and honking madly all the time instead of using the brake pedal...
After a couple of years, I was in Tirupati where another cousin who was gainfully employed had just then bought a car mostly as a prestige symbol. And her hubby had retired a year ago and I found their Maruti Zen safely resting in its garage and they were traveling by auto-rickshaw all the time. And I asked my cousin why they were not using their car. And she replied:
"My hubby doesn't even know how to ride a pushbike and is scared of driving such a big vehicle. And so I had to learn driving from a Driving School. But my hubby never trusted my driving instructor and wanted to sit in the back seat all the time whenever I took the driver-seat in the Coaching Car. And he wouldn't let the driver teach, shouting at me all the while, 'Slow...slow...slow...child crossing the road...truck coming on...police watching...etc etc'. After two days of this hassle, the Coaching School returned all our deposit saying that their driver refused our assignment since he suddenly developed blood pressure problems. So we are thinking of selling our brand new car. Are you interested?"
"No, no, thanks...I have my Chetak scooter"
And then there was this other cousin of mine at Nellore whose hubby bought a Maruti Alto, again as a prestige symbol. And claimed that he learned his driving all by himself...males are such fakers. And that he had tried to teach his wife driving but that led to severe conjugal discord. And so my cousin, who was hellbent on learning driving, registered in a moffusil Driving School. And, on Day 2, she crashed into a big truck escaping with just two huge dents...the coaching instructor jumped down and ran for his life, and the Company sent them a bill for a whopping Rs 50,000. They had to sell their car in order to raise that amount.
Anyway, no one needs a car in Nellore where there is only one road by which all the shops are located and, though it is grandly called Trunk Road, it is so narrow that even walking is difficult...it is a crowded by-lane. The rich Reddy ladies there employ drivers who drop them in mid-Trunk Road and go home with their huge cars and doze off since there is no way a car can be parked by the Grand Trunk Road, and return when they get a phone call asking them to come back to pick up their owners...
That is what prestige really is!
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The first time I was driven in a car by a lady was in the mid-1980s in Delhi where I was on my one-off official visit. I had no idea of how to drive a car then...mine was a scooter generation and I was rarely even a passenger in a car.
During a break in my official work I visited my cousin's place and found that her hubby was away on deputation for a year elsewhere and she was staying back in Delhi for their daughter's schooling. She fed me sumptuously and drove me to what she called Palika Bazar in her car. I could see that she was an expert driver and asked her if she learned her driving from her hubby. And she said:
"Oh, no! He never lets me drive saying he has enough tension with his job in his office and wants none on his return home...he has his Staff Car that drives him to his office and back, and our personal car is for weekend shopping. As soon as he left Delhi, I went to a Driving School and they taught me well."
I thought the pair were eminently sensible.
And they were in Madras after a couple of years and I happened to visit them again. The hubby had a heart attack and a bypass surgery a month before and was advised not to drive for a year. I asked my cousin if she was doing the family driving. And she said:
"Oh, no! I can't drive in Madras!"
"But you were driving so well in Delhi, and Madras is a village compared to Delhi"
"Precisely! In Delhi every main road has a divider and parking lots aplenty. In Madras there are no dividers but just a thin yellow line called 'Lifeline' instead of a divider. And the roads are narrow, traffic pellmell, and the cops are rude. We employ a driver nowadays"
Once again I thought how sensible she was.
And their teenage daughter did the rest for them...she crashed their car into a city-bus, driving it without her parents' permission and barely escaping jail...she claimed she learned her 'driving' watching a bus driver drive his bus...pushing the clutch, engaging the gears, pressing the throttle, and honking madly all the time instead of using the brake pedal...
After a couple of years, I was in Tirupati where another cousin who was gainfully employed had just then bought a car mostly as a prestige symbol. And her hubby had retired a year ago and I found their Maruti Zen safely resting in its garage and they were traveling by auto-rickshaw all the time. And I asked my cousin why they were not using their car. And she replied:
"My hubby doesn't even know how to ride a pushbike and is scared of driving such a big vehicle. And so I had to learn driving from a Driving School. But my hubby never trusted my driving instructor and wanted to sit in the back seat all the time whenever I took the driver-seat in the Coaching Car. And he wouldn't let the driver teach, shouting at me all the while, 'Slow...slow...slow...child crossing the road...truck coming on...police watching...etc etc'. After two days of this hassle, the Coaching School returned all our deposit saying that their driver refused our assignment since he suddenly developed blood pressure problems. So we are thinking of selling our brand new car. Are you interested?"
"No, no, thanks...I have my Chetak scooter"
And then there was this other cousin of mine at Nellore whose hubby bought a Maruti Alto, again as a prestige symbol. And claimed that he learned his driving all by himself...males are such fakers. And that he had tried to teach his wife driving but that led to severe conjugal discord. And so my cousin, who was hellbent on learning driving, registered in a moffusil Driving School. And, on Day 2, she crashed into a big truck escaping with just two huge dents...the coaching instructor jumped down and ran for his life, and the Company sent them a bill for a whopping Rs 50,000. They had to sell their car in order to raise that amount.
Anyway, no one needs a car in Nellore where there is only one road by which all the shops are located and, though it is grandly called Trunk Road, it is so narrow that even walking is difficult...it is a crowded by-lane. The rich Reddy ladies there employ drivers who drop them in mid-Trunk Road and go home with their huge cars and doze off since there is no way a car can be parked by the Grand Trunk Road, and return when they get a phone call asking them to come back to pick up their owners...
That is what prestige really is!
...Posted by Ishani
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