Tuesday, 4 October 2016

Back-route

Disaster.

A large truck full of gravel ("Bajri") , has over turned right at the crossing .

"What do we do now ?" She  always went into this sweaty -palmed , frozen state when something untoward  happens .  Some one has to take charge. So the young gent sitting in the backseat , nose-picking , galvanises into action .

"We still have time . 20 minutes . There is no one behind us . Ghooma lo (take a u-turn )" .

She  gingerly crosses over to the other side , mentally asking God and government for forgiveness , and takes the back route . She checks in the rear -view mirror, and is relieved to see several cars following her lead . The back route takes 10 minutes longer , but is mostly free at this time of the morning .

The young gent is silent now . Hands behind the head , he has gone off to sleep . Snoring occasionally . So much like the father . She would think as she saw in the rear view mirror.

When she slows down at the school , He  wakes up ,stretches , grabs his bag , slings it on the shoulder , and waves bye . Hesitating at the sight of his parent trying to form words resembling gratitude , he walks off with a casual -"Chill Mom ."

She loves driving the back -route.

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