Home About Me Technical Hobbies Photo

My maruti car was seldom used. Thus, most of the time it found itself braving the scorching sun, the windy monsoon or the chilly winter. Until one day, when I changed my company and suddenly found my self in the serious need of a car. The need translated into a major car-maintenance-drive. The engine was overhauled, shockers were changed, and so were the axle, clutch plate, and many other things. A new music system, air freshner, back-gear horn, and seat beadings also made their maiden entry into my 1987 maruti. No one could now tell the car was more than a decade old. It was like preparing a bride for her second honeymoon after successfully celebrating the silver jubilee anniversary.
 After everything was done, all that remained was the pollution check, which was long overdue. Given the high levels of pollution in Delhi, and the growing concern for environment, driving without air-pollution certificate was sure shot recipe for disaster.
 But given my proclivity towards procrastination, I took it easy. So what if my car was not Euro 2, I did not expect it to pollute after the major repairs that had gone in. And even if it did, there was no way I was sacrificing my car for few more milligrams of carbon mono-oxide in the air. There was already enough of that in the air. A few grams here and there did not make any difference.
 One reason or the another kept on delaying my pollution check. But once, my car got struck in a major traffic snarl-up. And guess who was my neighbouring car- a maruti gypsy proudly displaying “DELHI POLICE” on its body. I found my heart pulsating rapidly. I had the alarming distinction of getting caught in the most improbable cases. Once, when I was travelling in an express train, with tickets of local train, I kept waiting for a ticket-checker who could rectify my ticket. But when almost entire journey was complete, and the checker no where in sight, I splurged the saved 12 bucks on four rounds of coffee. Then, when I reached my destination, the look on my face was tensed enough to prompt the TT to ask for my ticket. I was penalized for incorrect ticket. Grudgingly, I had to pay 50rupees fine, besides the saved twelve rupees which were busy finding their way out of my kidney in the form of renal discharge. Another time, when I brought the correct ticket, I was fined again, my face playing the culprit once again, just because I had boarded a super-fast express-train with tickets of an express train. This, being a different issue that I, for the first time, realized there were super fast trains in India.
 Having such a poor record, I feared the police in the car nearby would come out and ask for my pollution certificate. Luckily, no one came. But I decided it was time I averted any possible chance of a disaster. So, the next morning, my car was taken to the nearest yellow hut-shaped centers, the places where pollution certificates were issued.
 A man with an amputated hand was manning the center. With some difficulty, he put the machine’s pipe in my car’s exhaust, and tried to start the computer calculating the extent of pollution. But as he was not the regular man conducting the business, nor aware of the techniques involved, he failed miserably in starting the device. When even after few minutes he could not start it, he called it quits and said the test was over. No mention was made about my car’s polluting abilities. When I cried foul play, he said the certificate would be valid, and that no one would know how the test was actually conducted.
 Good grace, this was how a noble cause had got commercialized. Commenting on the episode, my friend said he knew one bus contractor who never required any pollution check. His buses were always non-polluting, irrespective of their state. All that was required was few bucks.
 I wondered how this episode encompassed the root causes of all tragedies in the country. Be it the death in the escalator, a fire at a cinema hall, or a train clash, the reasons were all the same- carelessness and the inability to gauge the seriousness of the task involved.  While the thought lingered, he handed me over the certificate. I opened the car drawer, which contained all the necessary papers. The original car papers, insurance certificate, and the old pollution certificate. And besides this was my driver license, a license that I had obtained without even touching the steering wheel.

Comments invited at s.kasera@mailcity.com