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The flawed “Pakistan policy” Walking into the sunset Psephologists fail the wisdom of crowds What a judgment Sir-ji Educational shame Waylaid on the National Highway Throwing ink is fine Lovely Banking experience The fight along the border Of discrimination and rights Modi sells a Dream? Greater than the greatest ? Being taken for a ride Privatise the Railways Cracking the CA code A troubled fortnight Nitish swords Modi Sehwag...No soft edges The future is here Two leaves merged? The car dealer and the cabbie stories… PM Watch Noise on Social Networks The return of the muffler man The other side of the Olympic divide Odd-Even Plan RaGa bowls a decent over A ride around the city 500/500 The right to reject Brick gets pricked Two more for Modi WAR-MONGERING and a national pastime Editor unplugged FITTING farewell End of the world and the moving finger... Resolving disputes: Scotland, Ajit, Dhoni Britain lobs a bomb. But it won’t explode. The broken window Culture of suave, gentle and British becoming extinct... the lost generation... People vs. Collins Why we get a compromised deal The death of cash The loser is … CRICKET The case of the suspicious husband The wily old fox Bleeding Blue Rajiv killers escape the gallows The KING is a fugitive Of mercy petition and mercy killing A judgment that shocked a nation’s conscience Flight into danger The curious case of the missing maid From Gungi Gudiya to Iron Lady
 
The car dealer and the cabbie stories…

I had the misfortune of multiple dents on my car.  When it became too much to bear and another accident happened, I made the singular blunder of taking it to an authorised dealer and make an insurance claim.

To keep a long story short, let me tell you that the dealer fell so hopelessly in love with my car that he retained it for almost one full month.  First he texted me an amount, which he suggested was the cost, gross of insurance claim, and later while billing said it was net of claim. I let that pass.  That was another mistake.

 

Wobbly wheel ripped open the tyre, tube

 

When he finally returned my car it was so badly fixed that the wheel wobbled horribly and got slashed which meant that I had to replace two  of the tires and tubes at my cost. And this after the dealer claimed that they had tested for wheel alignment. The dealer was quite shameless to not even offer to bear the expense of the damage caused by them.  You know I am a very generous person. That was my third mistake.

The coup-de-grace was when they quietly retained the GPS in my car. I felt so let down at their releasing information in instalments of what parts of the GPS they held that I decided not to make a claim from them.  So much for trust, value and service.

 

Cab travel

 

Well all this is now behind me. Let’s look at happier things. During the one-month the dealer played around with my car I travelled in the city’s cabs and have had some lovely experiences to narrate.  Let me narrate a few:

One day, the cabbie assigned to me drove in a brand new car, and I was his first client. He asked me what I do and I said I am a  CA. When the time came for me to pay, he asked, "How do I maintain records?" I told him to write his collections on the left page and his payments on the right page.  My little contribution to financial inclusion!

Gyan from Shahul Hameed on Lord Muruga

Another day the roads were badly blocked and we took a detour. I casually remarked about the unusual crowd on a Sunday afternoon. The cabbie told me it was Thai Poosam and that people go to the temple in large number. As I stared into empty space, he gave me some gyan about what was the function, its history and its relevance. I will be eternally grateful to Shahul Hameed for that afternoon's piece of education.

Then one morning my cab driver was an IT engineer who works in a software company. He had bought a cab during his days of unemployment and now had engaged a driver. Since the driver was on leave and the software engineer too had a holiday, he chose to drive for the day.

 

The ‘ghost’ and the percussionist

 

Another day a cabbie asked me if I was near Mandaveli. I said "No". He then remarked, "I can see you."  I told him, "You can't see me because I am inside a building." After I got down from the building, flagged him, and boarded, he asked, "Did you walk down from Mandaveli?”  I said, "No."  He asked, "Are you sure?" Tired, I said that I was not sure. And then he delivered the coup de grace. "Are you, you?" Bugged, I told him that I was a ghost.

With the star car dealer continuing to hold my car hostage even after three weeks, I decided to hop into an auto. I had a book on hand. After some time the driver asked, "Do you read a lot?" I said, "I read when I wait." And then he told me something that took my breath away. "Sir, I also like to read a lot. I actually want to do CA. But you see one has to read 8-10 hours in CA. I don't have the time." Phew.

Finally tired of the cabs, I decided to fly out of the city. At the airport, when it was my turn to collect the boarding pass, an airport officer and a hunky guy crossed me, jumping the queue. The officer handed over the ticket of the guy without so much as a "Can I please," to me. I recognized the passenger, a percussionist. He hadn’t sought my okay to jump the queue. The counter officer seeing that I was quiet said, "Sir, I will attend to him please." The percussionist smiled at me and I refused to recognize him. I was having my revenge! He was expecting that I would want a selfie. And then he began to tap multiple fingers on the counter still looking at me.

Of course I continued to have my revenge.

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