“I told you. I have been driving through here since I was your age. Even Chandru knows me. “Kyon Chandru?” Baba surprised Chandru Chaiwala with his shrill “kyon?” Chandru replied with a nod and full display of his piano smile; the ebony of toothless spaces and ivory of stained whites greeting in unison. Chandru had mastered 101 of Business Management- pretend the customer is always right. Whatever sells more chai!
“Baba I am telling you, it’s a new road. This area used to be a forest when you were my age. Let’s ask GPS.” My Baba like any other Baba in his sixties had a disdain for technology that speaks.
“Arey beta I am telling you, I know the way better than that computerised talk. Let me drive”
“No! My car my rules! I will drive and you sleep. I will wake you up when we get there.”
“Chaa! You will follow that GPS talking mausi. She guided some family directly into the river in Karnataka, or was it Orissa? I don’t know. It was in the papers. The real print newspaper, not the fake kind you read on your phone. I am going into the river only when I am in an urn. Besides, you don’t know how to drive. You failed your driving test twice.” Baba was now shaming digital media, blackmailing me with his death and clawing at my past failures all at once.
Tears, protest and four chais later, Baba settled in the driver’s seat with a vintage map spread open on the dashboard and me driving slowly.
“Reading maps is an unvalued skill. This is why I had asked you join the Scouts and Guide. But you wanted to sleep late on Sundays. Relying on that computerised voice? Pah!” Baba’s rant continued as I followed his ‘now right’ and ‘take left’ sprinkled with ‘Why are your hands not in ten and two position?’
An hour and half later, I saw something which made me question Baba’s judgement.
“Baba, did we not pass this Gandhiji statue a couple of hours before. I still think we consult the GPS app.”
“Nah. We are on the right way. It must be some other Gandhiji statue. They all have one standard design. One is like the other. Besides, I am appalled at your dependence on technology. Have you learnt nothing from that Arnold Shivajinagar movie?” Baba had now turned to Hollywood, guns ablaze.
“He is Arnold Schwarzenegger Baba, not Shivajinagar and I do feel it’s the same statue and no, ‘The Terminator’ situation does not apply here because I don’t think Skynet’s greatest mission is to prevent a daughter and her technophobic Baba from reaching a remote village in India”. My patience had run its course and I screeched the car to a halt. To my surprise, I was greeted with a knock on the window and the classic Chandru piano smile.
“You missed my Chai, Sahib? Should I whip a cutting?” Fuming with rage I looked at Baba who was graciously accepting a cutting chai from Chandru. A sip later he concluded
“Railways are more reliable than your driving. Let’s take the train next time.”
