A day in the life of a "proud" Delhiite

I want a new car. I have wanted one for ages now. Please register this in your mind, separately. This fact has nothing to do with what I'm about to share. But its important for you to make note of it. Anyhow, on a lazy Sunday afternoon, I was driving my car through the busy streets of Delhi's Laxmi Nagar area: a notorious are per Se, but we are accustomed to such notoriety in our lives aren't we? And I was listening to Hit 95 FM, some nice track playing, was humming along, waiting for the traffic to move. Wham! I looked behind. A Sardarji, on a scooter, with two females sitting behind him had decided to check out the sound my car made if they thwack it with their f**** two wheeler. So, Delhiite that I am, while driving, looked behind and barked abuses. Satisfied, I drove ahead when suddenly this skinny young Sardar started banging his bare fist on my window pane. I was baffled. Another Sardar (yes, another one, with many more to come) decided to see how my engine looked, from underneath the moving car. Fortunately or Unfortunately he didn't die. Heck, he dint even have a scratch. Should have at least fainted, for what happened moments later, surely warranted at least a little tiny trickle of blood !

So he escaped, only I didn't. The crowd gathered. Since no one had anything else to do, they all banged their fists on my car in unison. I was just a mere spectator. Broke my windshield, took my wipers home. Took me out of the car by the collar, and vented all their frustrations on me. You often see these scenes taking place while you're driving. But you just see, mull over it for a few seconds, and move on. I used to do the same. Now I couldn't. Because that thing with the help of which I would have "moved ahead" was being annihilated. With random people frisking me, barking expletives, standing right in the middle, I wondered about all those instances where I saw someone being taken to task, and never bothered to find out what was going on, who was to blame, and what finally consequenced. Back to the real world, so I was being thrashed, ridiculed and would most probably have been A) beaten to death. B)beaten till I passed out C)beaten till I heroically saw blood on my lips, and like the Bollywood heroes from the 80's beat the crap out of the 70 odd people, who would come one by one, and get beaten in a synchronized fashion.

Anyhow, so after all this, finally some nearby shopkeepers came to my rescue, thawed the enraged public and called the Delhi Police. Half an hour later, the PCR showed up. In typical fashion, took out a cardboard, On a blank sheet of paper, noted down addresses, names of who so ever they could lay their hands on. They left, everyone left, not before I had to apologize to the Sardars and not before they had whisked "kharcha-paani" out of me.

Apology : for driving in Delhi, and expecting not to be beaten up.
Apology : for not keeping a hockey stick or a revolver.
Apology : for being 22-something and hence leaving an impression that we 20-somethings get drunk all the time, drive rash all the time, have all the money in the world, so our fathers would non chalantly pay if we kill someone hither and thither.
Apology : for being a part of the system, where if you are outnumbered, you are outlawed immediately.
Apology : for being a Delhiite.

Now why I wanted you to register the fact that I wanted a new car is coz I ain't getting any in the near future at least :o(