The area outside the arrivals terminal at the IGI Airport is a traffic nightmare today with cars strewn across everywhere, and add to that the flurry of passengers who are running late, trying to dodge the cars and the trolleys, an innocent passerby would probably flip at the pandemonium that is probably breaking out before his eyes.
But then again, it’s a sordid dance of sorts, this chaos isn’t it? Order in Chaos some wise men call it, and Delhi is quintessentially that. So it is no surprise when my car manages to bumper-graze another car. It isn’t even worth a frown.
As the driver eases the humble hatchback out on to the road, we are accosted by a recalcitrant man, ordering our driver out of our vehicle. I am shaken from my reverie by the commotion and realize it would be prudent to step out for a reconnaissance. Turns out, the car whose bumper has been so grossly grazed and thus violated, is a BMW. My shiny hatchback looks green with envy inspite of its metallic tinge, but I see some shade of pride too, since it has very conveniently manage to leave it’s mark on the ever so spiffy bimmer.
I stoop low to inspect the damage and see nothing at first glance. I adjust my thick glasses and there in front of me is a scratch all of 1mm staring at me right in the face. The chauffeur of the BMW seems to be in a frenzy of sorts, reiterating the fact that the car is indeed a BMW and his company would not be pleased to know of the damage. A police patrol car pulls in, and two cops step out and continue to lurk in the background. The driver of the hatchback clearly believes in quid pro quo and is on the defensive, rebuffing all accusations being thrown his way and throwing in his own conjured accusations for good measure. I am a little melancholy from the events the day has managed to transpire, and maybe that attenuates my inclination to launch a full-blown offensive. The cops seem to have had a look at the “scratch” and I can see them muster a quite laugh from the corner of my eye-this makes me feel resplendent. I bring up the topic of chaotic Delhi roads and how a car in Delhi cannot operate on the roads until it has bumped at least one car a day-somewhat like a right of passage. Pun intended. I look at the cops, and they seem to be nodding in approval. Bless them I think.
A call to the chauffer’s superior, a quick tête-à-tête, and it seems that I’ve managed to convince him that neither his driver nor mine is to blame. “It’s the chaos sir”, I tell him. And it is.
The story ends with the chauffer thanking me with a toothy grin, me thanking the cops for their patience and laughter and all three parties returning to their vehicles with a sigh of relief, thankful for the order that was ushered in by the chaos.
