Summer with its onset, brings not only mosquitoes, heatstrokes, soaring temperatures, beer can but something that I dread far more than the thought of Arvind kejriwal becoming prime minister. Laugh my sinister friends, but it is what it is. It’s that time of the year when I have to think about getting AC’s serviced, things repaired and worse of all get my car checked up.
Oh! how I hate it. Don’t get me wrong I am smarter than most men have a decent global exposure and I can probably survive the amazonian jungle for a few weeks, but still, somehow the thought of sending my car for repair and service unnerves me. It scares me, gives me sleepless nights and also turns cynical agnostic me into a fervent believer. I negotiate and bargain with almighty that please fix my car and I shall give up my vices.
But for some reason, I think god is kinda busy, and not checking his Facebook as often as I would want him to. After the negotiation failed, I finally one more time had to come to terms with the fact that I will have to send my beloved car to a mechanic. Now here’s a confession, like a lot of inhabitants from Venus, I am also severely challenged mechanically. I can differentiate between all the shades of lipgloss from Chanel, but car talk essentially sounds like a greek man talking Mandarin to me. I still don’t know whats retreading , and if the axle is in the front or the back.
So now do u get my predicament? Another thing that I have to deal with is that the somehow when I take my car to the service station, even if it is working fine, the moment the mechanic touches it , I am bombarded with a volley of questions? When was the last service ? was the oil changed ? this doesn’t look good ? and the all common madam ye to bahut kharab heh , sam badalna padega ! Aaah and then magically my bill is higher than the National debt of entire Central America. I sometimes wonder if it will be cheaper to sell the car rather than this apparent unsuccessful attempt to maintain it.
But being a feminist I find it hard to admit that i find all this hurtful and scary. For some reason even if I could live with all this , I feel absolutely inadequate and stupid when the guy inadvertently says Madam aap pareshan mat ho , main saheb se baat kar loonga ! Because for some reason he automatically assumes, I am some looney women who thought its a good idea to brave this heat and sun and go looking for a car mechanic. Oh my dear fellow , I ruefully think to myself I may some day achieve all my dreams and may even earn a Noble prize , if they start handing out one for sarcasm that is , but I will never be able to live down my single status in this country.
So for all the above reasons and because I am sure eventually one day I will end up spending all my money on shoes, I have decided I will settle for a guy who makes money, actually a tonne of it and the most important quality can deal with electricians, plumbers, and car mechanics. That’s the only thing I need. I never want to talk to another one of those forms. Also, next time when I send my car for service I actually want the Sahab to take it.
So all the guys who are reading it, If this catches your attention, please reply in the comment section. I will give you the number of the mechanic who is holding my car hostage 🙂 This will be your level 1 test.