Last Modified: 09/20/2003 01:08:15
Tibi ran towards the Honda Civic as it pulled to the side of the road. Nikoo and Bubble, his friends, descended on the car from the other side. All three were in a mad dash to reach the car. Tibi slammed into the side of the car first. As the automatic windows rolled down a blast of cold air hit him. He wished he was on the other side of the car door. “Saab gi!” Tibi saluted the strangers, while he jostled with a swarm of urchins, peddlers, beggars and invalids to keep his place in front of this magical window to another world. “What’s your name boy?” asked the driver. “They call me Tibi, sir.” He said as he signaled Bubble and Nikoo with a wink, got his one. “Looks like its going to rain, Tibi, finally. Okay,” said the boy inside the car, “we want two sweet jumbo paans, a packet of Benson, and a lighter.” “Done,” said Tibi and turned around to find himself stuck inside a mass of destitute trying to reach the window. “Paran Ho bhan chod!” He pushed a man with stumps as arms and moved out of the huddle. The crowd had surrounded the car but the portal was already closing, as the electric motor wound and pushed the window back up. They tapped the windows, bent forward to look at the noble gents in the car and put their hands together, those who had them, to pray and bless their souls. A mother put her baby on the cars bonnet so as to free her hands for begging for the hungry child. This resulted in an angry honk emanating from the car. Tibi thought it was for him. He ran back and shouldered past a man selling flowers. The wooden stick on which he had hung his arrangement of flower necklaces and bracelets, tipped. The flowers hit the dirt and crunched underneath the many feet. Tibi knocked on the window. It magically reopened. “Yes boss?” asked Tipi. “No I didn’t call you. I’m trying to get this woman to get her baby of my new car.” “No problem boss,” said Tipi and turned around to unleash a volley of abuse at the crowd, “Get your miserable ass away from this car you whore and take your bastard child with you. Get away all of you. If I see any of you bothering the saab, Ill break your legs. Stop cleaning the car you mother fuckers, can’t you see you’re dirtying the new car with your filthy rags.” The mob turned their attention on another car that had just pulled over. Tibi got a nod of approval from the boys inside the car. He liked the boy who was driving.The driver of this Civic, he thought, is nice. The nod and smile he got made him feel better about his existence for weeks. Tap and the window opens. Again the cool blast of air. Strange music played in the car. The boy turned the volume down. “Here you are sir. Your Benson's and lighter, and the two sweet jumbo paans.” “Thanks. How much?” “Fifty two.” “Keep it.” Said the boy handing him a hundred. “Buhat Shukria Saab.” The car pulled out. Tibi looked at the two boys and his heart burnt with jealousy. The boys seemed happy, both having donned black shades. They laughed inside their air-conditioned fortress. The boy who was driving puffed on a cigarette as the other boy held the flame. The rumpus music grew loud. The girl in the back of a Corolla smiled at them, at which the boys slapped hands and screeched of in excitement. The car bobbed in and out of traffic recklessly only to stop at the traffic light. The tires screamed again and the car disappeared ahead of all the traffic. Tibi watched all this and wondered, will I ever have a car? Will a nice girl ever look at me? “Oye!”said the flowerist. Tibi stood lost in thought. “You son of bitch,” the flowerist took off his rubber sandal and flung it at Tibi, as he tried to salvage his crushed flowers, “Im going to fuck you up the ass and take the shit out of you.” Tibi awoke from a dream saying, “What has happened?” He saw the flower seller on all fours in the dirt, tears of rage and misfortune in his eyes and said “Sorry, my mistake.” He got down and started picking up the blackened buds. A livid “Leave it!” was the last thing that Tibi remembered hearing. The man— his dirty shalwar Kameez fluttering in the monsoon wind— ran with his stick on which hung muddy necklaces of jasmine. He swung the stick back over his head. The flowers flew up into the sky and the stick came down with a crack on Tibi’s head. Everyone stopped at the sound of the crack. People converged on Tibi’s lifeless body. Nikoo and Bubloo, both crouched next to him. “Who is the mother fucker who has done this?” screamed burly Bubbloo. The crowd parted to reveal the flower seller. He let the bloody stick drop to the ground.