I happened to be walking in my gully one afternoon, waiting for my friend to turn up, when I heard a bike make stuttering sounds. That was really eerie, since the lane was totally deserted. No bikers, no stray dogs, no passersby, not even prying neighbours who take a peek out of the window whenever they have time on their hands (which is quite often). Being a little timid in nature, I got a teeny bit alarmed (read phat gayi). For once I wished there were strays (I hate them too, but they’re definitely and infinitely better than unidentified bike noises), or neighbours (who would hope to catch a glimpse of whoever I was waiting for, even better if it was a guy). Since I’m the kind of person who backs off from the scene of the crime rather than go headlong into it, I went farther and farther from the sound. Probably for the first time in my life, I was a bit curious though, to know the source of the sound. I couldn’t even remotely spot a bike anywhere around. So what was with the noise? Hesitantly, I started walking towards it, ready to flee if something leaped at me. But nothing jumped at me and said boo, so I continued walking, my stride becoming more confident with each step. I reached the car where the sound seemed to come from (a car making bike noises? Weird!) and cautiously peeked behind it.
Now I need you to understand this. There was a bike behind the car. Now for the sake of heaven and all his cherubic angels’ DON’T ask me silly questions like how come you didn’t see it? because I’m not blind, you know. The car was parked between the bike and the road, get it? Well, I know you don’t. The fucking car and the bike were parallel to the gutter running along the edge of the road. So if you obviously stood facing the doors of the car, the bike was hidden. Now do you get it? Next, you ask yourself (or me) why were the bloody vehicles parked like this? The only probable answer is, to help me get royally seasoned in the sun whilst I waited for the friend. The next thing that pops into your head is, why was the bike making a sound? Ah, yes. That is because, my so-not-absent-minded neighbour left his keys in the bike, and didn’t even bother to shut it. Yes. The cheek of it all.
Like a good girl, I went up to him and said Krish, your keys are in the ignition of the bike. And your bike’s still sputtering. I was so proud of myself. I do have journalistic skills I suppose, I was at the scene of the offense, and I solved the mystery with true detective valour. He interrupted my chain of pleasant thoughts and said, Tu leke nahi aa sakti kya? Jaa leke aa chaabi. Translated I’m a bastard and I had arranged for my bike to be stolen. Now that you’ve foiled my plans, you might as well go and get the keys. Without airing my thoughts, I meekly went down and got him the god-forsaken keys.
My opinion of him drastically changed when he promised me a bike ride and an ice cream at Baskin Robbins the next afternoon. Yum yum! I’m prepared to forgive anything when offered any form of ice cream.
The next day, I fell ill with a bad tummy upset.
And the day after that, my neighbour flew back to Canada, where he had come from.
And the time after that, I vowed to keep my detective skills to myself, as they are thankless.