Tuesday, October 20, 2015

The Choice

Had it not been the untimely diagnosis of diabetes by the family doctor whose behavior evokes nothing but severe disgust, I would never have gone for this morning walk. I do not like walking at all; that too in the cold nice mornings when I have either my wife or girlfriends to curl up with me, depending on the locations that the business trips take me to.

I have been working with a famous pharmaceutical company as their Head of Operations (North) with my base in Delhi. I own a three bed room flat there not far away from the heart of the city and till recently the office used to come to me than me going to the office right on time. I like sleeping and I trust in my assistant, one Mr.Tripathi, a cunning fox from Orissa. He pleases me being servile to the hilt and I pretend I enjoy all those euphemistic words that he showers on me liberally.

So long as you have a CCTV feed from the office in your smart phone and also have a very efficient young female secretary who is willing to be very ‘free’ with you, it is not necessary to visit office every day. I do not like walking as I said and I do not like driving either. You may wonder what then I really like.

To be very frank, I like to spend my time in front of the television and just get lost in my thoughts. I do everything in my thoughts. You may call it day dreaming. But I know these are thoughts. And what do I think? I think about so many things. Most of them are about revolution; I strongly believe that the world will change into something else. When you hear revolution, do not get into a conclusion that I would go out and really work for it. I do not want to stain my palms with grease or blood. But revolution should happen.

And once the revolution is here and all the problems in the society are vanished, what am I supposed to think about? I expect the new revolutionary government will abolish labor and create a situation that every citizen in this country would work from home.

When you are in an industry, working, even if you dream a world where work comes home, you need to travel. I have two cars; one, Mercedes Benz E class and an Audi Q7, shiny black. Driver, whom I call Raiu Bhai drives me around. Often he is free as his job is to drop me at the airport and pick me up from there and also as my wife does not want to go around in my expensive cars. She has her Swift as she is from a nationalist’s family, one of the big mistakes I have ever committed. I love her though I do not love her family. I have never asked whether she loves me or not. As I do not have any reason to think otherwise, I believe that she loves me. She loves our children also.

Recently things went seriously wrong in my life. I was at home and my secretary came to meet me. She came unannounced and as if she knew that my wife was out for shopping, she made herself comfortable next to me in the leather sofa and without me asking started doing things which I liked her doing on me when I rarely went to the office. Providence was not so cool with me on that day. My wife came unannounced exactly the way my secretary came and rushed inside the bedroom to show me something which she thought very important. I had not even climaxed but I knew I was frozen.

I don’t know what happened next. I know as much as this to tell you that I decided to quit the company where I worked and decided to start my own distribution network of medicine and confectionaries. Like many wives, as the counselor had informed me, my wife too compromised with me and I reiterated my love for her and our children. I dreaded seeing my secretary again. I blocked her in every possible way from my life. But I knew somewhere that it was not my wife catching us red handed and the abuses ensued with some punches on her stomach (poor girl) but my reluctance to speak to her again that hurt her most. But I cannot do anything to it. I think I stopped having thoughts since then.

I thought the erectile malfunction that I experienced after that incident was simply out of the dread that I felt for my wife. But in Dubai, when I faced the same with the glorious Gloria from Macau (settled in Dubai for escorting people like me and with that fake name that reminds me of a powder tin) I was horrified. Back home, the family doctor after looking at the blood reports told me that I was having a severe attack of diabetes. With medicine he advised me to walk for half an hour, five days a week.

I hate it. Oh, I can live with diabetes. But I hate walking. My wife suggested that in the early mornings she could accompany me for a drive and we could go to the historical Lodhi Gardens for the punishment. Thinking the horror of her sleeping with some other man whose organ worked well, I thought of agreeing with her and started my morning walk. I would have eaten any ugly pill if that could save me from walking.

I drive my Audi Q7, shiny black if at all I need to drive. I consider Mercedes as office on wheels. My wife likes me driving her around, for the first time in our twelve year old married life I realized. It gave me some sort of secret happiness.

Today morning, I was driving home after walking. Wife had her periods so she chose not to go with me today. I was a bit careless, it seemed. Like a polite believer I was listening to Ram Bhajans in the wonderful music system that I have in the car. Suddenly a truck appeared from nowhere on my right and it was trying to overtake me from the right but dangerously between my car and a school bus in the first line. To my shock I saw this skinny little man on a cycle, with a basketful of marigold garlands.

I thought about him. Where was he going? To some temple to sell these flowers? How much money would he earn out of this? Would he be doing some other work in the day time? How many kids he must be having? Did he have a house in Delhi? Did he look after his old parents? Did his kids go to school?

Then I thought about my car. I bought it for Rs.77 lakhs. Its shiny black body evoked erotic feelings in me. I was always reminded of the ebony beauty, Miranda from Ghana who had once spent a night with me in Paris. Such a beauty she was. The moment I saw her I fell in love with her. I was ready to pay any price for her. It took no time for the middleman to settle the deal and got the papers signed from me.

Now I had to make a choice. If I flipped my car to the right I could save the thin little man on my left. But, but my lady, my beloved car would lose her right face and side. She would look like an acid attack survivor. Did I really care for them even if I wrote heavy cheques for the organization that rehabilitated the acid attack survivors? Would this car be the same even if the parts are changed by the company itself?

I had to make a choice. If I flipped to my left I could save my car. But….

I thought of my legal consultant, Advocate Faiz Malani, the guy who could prove a night a day with his legal prowess.

Then I made the choice. I flipped my car to the left.  

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