A Hell of a 'Lot' of Parking
(This post is dedicated to my colleague and dear friend Ramesh as well as to the millions of Mumbaikars who face parking problems each day.)
Ramesh is a changed man these days while I travel to office by cab. Confused? Don’t be. Read on…
The story till that day…
Ramesh travels to office everyday by car. It’s a long and arduous journey, around 40 km. one way, but since he loves driving, he enjoys the ride. Two thirds of the way, he picks me up and rest of the distance we travel together, along with a couple of other colleagues.
It’s a routine journey, spiced up by some songs on FM, office gossip and the horns blaring all around. But in an otherwise mundane journey, it is the climax, like Hindi movies, that is the liveliest part. From the moment we enter Kamala Mills compound till the point we reach our cubicles, are the most interesting 5 minutes of our entire day, thanks to the security guards who double up as overzealous parking attendants.
Interesting, I say, not funny, because I want to travel with Ramesh again tomorrow. :)
One such day, as soon as we entered our parking area and Ramesh parked his car adjacent to another vehicle, the security guard, who was standing a few meters away, started to stroll towards us.
He asked Ramesh to park a little closer to the other car. “Why?” I queried, as Ramesh started winding up his window.
“Sir, we have parking allotted for 40 cars and there are 48 cars here every day”. But will asking Ramesh to squeeze his car closer going to allow for the 8 extra cars, I wanted to ask him. Heck!
As we got down, Ramesh started the reversal process, I mean, the first iteration of reversing the car and managed to skim off a few inches, moving closer to the other car now. That is that, or so we thought.
“Sir this is still not close enough”, the guard said, astonishingly, after Ramesh had barely managed to squeeze himself out by opening the door only halfway, lest he bang into the adjacent car.
“But why do you tell me now, after I get out?” Ramesh fumed, rightly so.
Unfazed, the guard replied, “Sir, I was estimating the number of cars that will fit in”.
In a parking area of 40 cars, with only 2 parked, he estimated that Ramesh parking a foot away from the only other car, might mean ‘No Parking’ for the 47th car that will come in. Even Ramanujam would not have been able to match this guy’s abstract mathematical ability. Crazy!
Ramesh, the good guy that he is, protested, but obliged and after iteration number 2, had actually managed to move still closer (if that was at all possible) to the other car. Any more and they would seem welded together.
Only problem now was for him to get out. The door opened barely a few inches, enough for a foot to be pushed out. Then started an exercise that would have made Ramdev Baba proud; at one point resembling a complex Yoga pose and ending with Ramesh completely out of breath, but magically, out of his car and thankfully, still in one piece.
Thinking our ordeal to be over, we started towards the car to remove our bags, when suddenly I noticed the guard staring in frowning concentration at the space between the 2 cars. Now what??!!
“Sir”, the guard thoughtfully said, “I think the angle is not correct, it does not seem parallel”.
This guy should volunteer as an examiner for driving license tests at the RTO, I thought. No new driver will ever be able to procure even a learner’s license.
“And how would it matter? Are we giving a test here?” I asked him scornfully.
Unfazed, Mr.RTO replied, “No sir, but you see we have to fit in 48 cars”. There we go again!
The situation was beginning to get hilarious and exasperating. Hilarious for us, exasperating for Ramesh! Now how was he to get in; definitely not from the driver’s side? So obviously then, he went in from the passenger’s side, climbed awkwardly over the gear box and fell into the driver’s seat. Hush!
After the car had been maneuvered back and forth 5 more times, Mr. RTO finally announced, “Perfect!”
This guy reminded me of my mechanical workshop supervisor in 1st year engineering. The maniac would move around with a T-square and check every piece of iron found in the workshop for ‘perfection’.
Ramesh’s misery however, was far from over. Piqued and sweaty, he he was clambering back out of the car when RTO shouted, “Wait sir!”
A collective groan went up from all of us standing outside.
“Sir, you have backed up too far!” he added urgently, not wanting Ramesh to leave his car, ever.
What??!! God! I wished a fairy to appear and turn this guy into a ‘self-directing parking lot’. He would then start beeping if a car was parked even .2532 mm. wrong. An ear-shattering alarm would go off for 30 seconds and within 1 minute if corrective action was not taken, the ground beneath the car will open up and gobble it. 2012 revisited! But no such thing was going to happen. This relentless tyrant was hell bent on killing Ramesh.
“… that’s what I was saying, sir, it would be difficult for another car to make a turn around you.” I heard RTO continue.
Ramesh by now had resigned himself to his fate and had gone on auto pilot. He quietly reassembled himself and reversed the car again. For a moment I thought he would reverse it all the way and head home. But Ramesh was an epitome of patience. After all, he has got 2 kids. ;)
And Bingo! He had done it! RTO was finally satisfied with Ramesh’s parking ability and with a grin like a Cheshire cat, began to move away. Phew! We let out a deep sigh of relief.
And this was the point that fate chose to show its hand. Talk about Murphy!
Just as Ramesh was beginning to climb out of the car, for the last time, we were surrounded by a puff of dust, which when settled, made our eyes pop out! Our GM had just parked his brand new Mercedes SL350 adjacent to Ramesh’s car, got out, locked the door and giving us a tight smile, walked off. Just like that! For a moment, Ramesh seemed to me like Houdini, locked in from all sides.
But this was one of those defining moments that make you appreciate the smaller things in life. A marketing wiz would have branded Ramesh’s small car as ‘God’s own Maruti’; such was its importance today. You see, without a proper boot, the back door acted as an emergency exit from which a bruised Ramesh was able to extricate himself; akin to Amitabh Bachchan escaping from the water-filled coal mine in Kaala Patthar!
As we made our way into office, we realized that even the smallest of incidents can define the course of your future life, as I found out later, much to my chagrin.
A few days later…
Ramesh did not pick me up today; neither did I receive his customary 8 a.m call. I tried his number, which was unavailable. The other regular co-passengers too had no idea of his whereabouts. I reached office; 9:30 turned to 9:45 but still no sign of Ramesh.
Just I was about to redial his number, a colleague, who travels by train informed me that Ramesh was standing in the queue at Parel station, buying a First-Class Season Ticket for his daily commute to Kharghar.
As I said, Ramesh is a changed man these days while I travel to office by cab.
The story till that day…
Ramesh travels to office everyday by car. It’s a long and arduous journey, around 40 km. one way, but since he loves driving, he enjoys the ride. Two thirds of the way, he picks me up and rest of the distance we travel together, along with a couple of other colleagues.
It’s a routine journey, spiced up by some songs on FM, office gossip and the horns blaring all around. But in an otherwise mundane journey, it is the climax, like Hindi movies, that is the liveliest part. From the moment we enter Kamala Mills compound till the point we reach our cubicles, are the most interesting 5 minutes of our entire day, thanks to the security guards who double up as overzealous parking attendants.
Interesting, I say, not funny, because I want to travel with Ramesh again tomorrow. :)
One such day, as soon as we entered our parking area and Ramesh parked his car adjacent to another vehicle, the security guard, who was standing a few meters away, started to stroll towards us.
He asked Ramesh to park a little closer to the other car. “Why?” I queried, as Ramesh started winding up his window.
“Sir, we have parking allotted for 40 cars and there are 48 cars here every day”. But will asking Ramesh to squeeze his car closer going to allow for the 8 extra cars, I wanted to ask him. Heck!
As we got down, Ramesh started the reversal process, I mean, the first iteration of reversing the car and managed to skim off a few inches, moving closer to the other car now. That is that, or so we thought.
“Sir this is still not close enough”, the guard said, astonishingly, after Ramesh had barely managed to squeeze himself out by opening the door only halfway, lest he bang into the adjacent car.
“But why do you tell me now, after I get out?” Ramesh fumed, rightly so.
Unfazed, the guard replied, “Sir, I was estimating the number of cars that will fit in”.
In a parking area of 40 cars, with only 2 parked, he estimated that Ramesh parking a foot away from the only other car, might mean ‘No Parking’ for the 47th car that will come in. Even Ramanujam would not have been able to match this guy’s abstract mathematical ability. Crazy!
Ramesh, the good guy that he is, protested, but obliged and after iteration number 2, had actually managed to move still closer (if that was at all possible) to the other car. Any more and they would seem welded together.
Only problem now was for him to get out. The door opened barely a few inches, enough for a foot to be pushed out. Then started an exercise that would have made Ramdev Baba proud; at one point resembling a complex Yoga pose and ending with Ramesh completely out of breath, but magically, out of his car and thankfully, still in one piece.
Thinking our ordeal to be over, we started towards the car to remove our bags, when suddenly I noticed the guard staring in frowning concentration at the space between the 2 cars. Now what??!!
“Sir”, the guard thoughtfully said, “I think the angle is not correct, it does not seem parallel”.
This guy should volunteer as an examiner for driving license tests at the RTO, I thought. No new driver will ever be able to procure even a learner’s license.
“And how would it matter? Are we giving a test here?” I asked him scornfully.
Unfazed, Mr.RTO replied, “No sir, but you see we have to fit in 48 cars”. There we go again!
The situation was beginning to get hilarious and exasperating. Hilarious for us, exasperating for Ramesh! Now how was he to get in; definitely not from the driver’s side? So obviously then, he went in from the passenger’s side, climbed awkwardly over the gear box and fell into the driver’s seat. Hush!
After the car had been maneuvered back and forth 5 more times, Mr. RTO finally announced, “Perfect!”
This guy reminded me of my mechanical workshop supervisor in 1st year engineering. The maniac would move around with a T-square and check every piece of iron found in the workshop for ‘perfection’.
Ramesh’s misery however, was far from over. Piqued and sweaty, he he was clambering back out of the car when RTO shouted, “Wait sir!”
A collective groan went up from all of us standing outside.
“Sir, you have backed up too far!” he added urgently, not wanting Ramesh to leave his car, ever.
What??!! God! I wished a fairy to appear and turn this guy into a ‘self-directing parking lot’. He would then start beeping if a car was parked even .2532 mm. wrong. An ear-shattering alarm would go off for 30 seconds and within 1 minute if corrective action was not taken, the ground beneath the car will open up and gobble it. 2012 revisited! But no such thing was going to happen. This relentless tyrant was hell bent on killing Ramesh.
“… that’s what I was saying, sir, it would be difficult for another car to make a turn around you.” I heard RTO continue.
Ramesh by now had resigned himself to his fate and had gone on auto pilot. He quietly reassembled himself and reversed the car again. For a moment I thought he would reverse it all the way and head home. But Ramesh was an epitome of patience. After all, he has got 2 kids. ;)
And Bingo! He had done it! RTO was finally satisfied with Ramesh’s parking ability and with a grin like a Cheshire cat, began to move away. Phew! We let out a deep sigh of relief.
And this was the point that fate chose to show its hand. Talk about Murphy!
Just as Ramesh was beginning to climb out of the car, for the last time, we were surrounded by a puff of dust, which when settled, made our eyes pop out! Our GM had just parked his brand new Mercedes SL350 adjacent to Ramesh’s car, got out, locked the door and giving us a tight smile, walked off. Just like that! For a moment, Ramesh seemed to me like Houdini, locked in from all sides.
But this was one of those defining moments that make you appreciate the smaller things in life. A marketing wiz would have branded Ramesh’s small car as ‘God’s own Maruti’; such was its importance today. You see, without a proper boot, the back door acted as an emergency exit from which a bruised Ramesh was able to extricate himself; akin to Amitabh Bachchan escaping from the water-filled coal mine in Kaala Patthar!
As we made our way into office, we realized that even the smallest of incidents can define the course of your future life, as I found out later, much to my chagrin.
A few days later…
Ramesh did not pick me up today; neither did I receive his customary 8 a.m call. I tried his number, which was unavailable. The other regular co-passengers too had no idea of his whereabouts. I reached office; 9:30 turned to 9:45 but still no sign of Ramesh.
Just I was about to redial his number, a colleague, who travels by train informed me that Ramesh was standing in the queue at Parel station, buying a First-Class Season Ticket for his daily commute to Kharghar.
As I said, Ramesh is a changed man these days while I travel to office by cab.
posted by sopa @ 8:27 PM
1 Comments
1 Comments:
Nice post Aditya. I too started traveling by train. Car Parking at Kamla mills is an issue.
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