I was ready to sell my old car and Anjali wanted it, I had been thinking the human race is enamoured by cars, we travel distances in our vehicle of choice and build our dreams around them, its like, a race is on, "and it is a rat race if you want it so," therefore we build bigger and bigger cars, "as big as the houses we stay in," cars that run the span of the highway competing with other bigger cars and that makes us happy. What made Anjali happy was this thought that she could now go to work in a car, travel to cafes on her own and see the city with new eyes in the night, "and this old car was a beauty," instead of having to use the public transport or the ubiquitous Delhi auto rickshaw. Public transport was fickle here except for the Delhi Underground, which was akin to the London Tube, "On time every time," and the auto wallas were notorious for overcharging and speeding, the thought gave me great pleasure as well to see her ensconced safely behind the wheels of a metallic monster, "monster was a misnomer," this was a small car with a big heart and it was made for her.
My first car had been a Suzuki 800, similar to the Mini of yore and it had been a beauty, small enough to be manoeuvred around the sharpest bend, "and a very sharp to pickup to match," and spacious enough to fit five. I had loved it and wanted Anjali to have the same feel of owning her first car, if I had it my way I would have given it to her for free but she wouldn't take it for free, those had never been her terms and conditions. She believed that she had worked hard for everything these last two and half years and was her own woman, she would continue to be who she was no matter what or who changed around her.
This reminded me of a story I had heard a long time ago, "and I had heard plenty in my childhood," there once was a scorpion that was drowning in a river, an old man saw it and put his hand out to help the scorpion, he got bitten immediately, he again tried to help out and was stung again, a child who was watching the old man instantly called out to him, "what are you doing, that scorpion is biting you ?"
The old man looked at his hand, "It is the scorpions nature to sting and that's what it is doing, my nature on the hand is to help and I will continue to do that and not change because of my circumstances or what people dole out to me."
Saying this, he then broke a thick leaf from a tree and waded it in the water and helped the scorpion to safety.
Anjali and the old man in the story were similar in profile, they remained true to their nature and that's what made them very interesting people to talk to and emulate. She was strong in character and never gave up, knowing that she had it in her to tackle any seemingly insurmountable problem, it was this trait that had first attracted me to her and I knew she understood, though she also thought I had helped her overcome her problems as well, people like her were pillars of society, around whom the world revolved, "damn and I thought I had evolved enough," I looked up to her even though she was younger in age and much less experienced.
It Never Occurred To Me To Look For Perfection In People.
My first car had been a Suzuki 800, similar to the Mini of yore and it had been a beauty, small enough to be manoeuvred around the sharpest bend, "and a very sharp to pickup to match," and spacious enough to fit five. I had loved it and wanted Anjali to have the same feel of owning her first car, if I had it my way I would have given it to her for free but she wouldn't take it for free, those had never been her terms and conditions. She believed that she had worked hard for everything these last two and half years and was her own woman, she would continue to be who she was no matter what or who changed around her.
This reminded me of a story I had heard a long time ago, "and I had heard plenty in my childhood," there once was a scorpion that was drowning in a river, an old man saw it and put his hand out to help the scorpion, he got bitten immediately, he again tried to help out and was stung again, a child who was watching the old man instantly called out to him, "what are you doing, that scorpion is biting you ?"
The old man looked at his hand, "It is the scorpions nature to sting and that's what it is doing, my nature on the hand is to help and I will continue to do that and not change because of my circumstances or what people dole out to me."
Saying this, he then broke a thick leaf from a tree and waded it in the water and helped the scorpion to safety.
Anjali and the old man in the story were similar in profile, they remained true to their nature and that's what made them very interesting people to talk to and emulate. She was strong in character and never gave up, knowing that she had it in her to tackle any seemingly insurmountable problem, it was this trait that had first attracted me to her and I knew she understood, though she also thought I had helped her overcome her problems as well, people like her were pillars of society, around whom the world revolved, "damn and I thought I had evolved enough," I looked up to her even though she was younger in age and much less experienced.
It Never Occurred To Me To Look For Perfection In People.
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