The traffic again causes bewilderment and of course the inevitable delay in work. Why couldn't they have started the digging in the winter season, when schools and colleges are closed, I ask my Driver.
Don't know Sir he mumbles.
Of course, he won't know. How and why should he know. I gnash my teeth.
In the meantime a friend sidles to the rear and asks if I can give him a lift. Of course I can I say, but look at this traffic. You know what he says, I saw your car ambling along in Don Bosco Square, but I caught up with you by walking.
That shows the pathetic state of affairs, I retort.
It is better to walk my friend says.
Yes, I say, knowing fully well, that I for one the lazy person that I am, will not do it.
My remonstrations start again: why could they have not waited till the winters I ask.
My friend agrees.
I agree once again, two times three times.
In the meantime the car gets stuck again, the ubiquitous hold up. I snarl, gnash my teeth, curse again. Yes, that is what people are saying, but what are they doing?
Haven't you seen he asks, people have written letters to the editor.
Letters to the who? I ask.
The Editor my friend replies, in The Shillong Times.
I maintain a discreet silence.
Then - that won't do I shout.
In the meantime a car has got stuck in the lane emanating from Loreto Convent. The poor driver had his car fallen in a dich, or a 'nullah'. There are some enthusistic people helping him. Wish we could help him I tell my escort, but where shall we park the car? I say lamely. My Driver agrees, then shouts gleefully, they have managed, he says... I smile the benign smile.
Altruism takes a back seat - I am in the front seat. My friend gets off near a school, my car ambles along, again gets stuck again. I am seething, but do not say anything.
Discretion is the better part of anger.
In office the Cleaner has not come.
I clean my anger.