The black Sedan inched
its way slowly through the traffic. A young man in a black dapper two-piece
suit sat in the rear seat, fiddling about with some buttons on his 8-inch
touchpad. Another man, slightly older, was at the wheel, sweating away, despite
the lowest possible temperature of the aircon. He wore a brownish white shirt
and similar hued pants, which looked as if they were worn everyday without
washing. The driver applied the brakes suddenly as the car in front of him
jerked to an abrupt halt. A second man, barely a man but a boy, younger than
both the men in the car but as shabbily dressed as the driver, sat in the
passenger seat beside the driver's, both timid and pleased, trying to gauge the
situation but mostly keeping to himself.
"Shit!",
exclaimed the smartly dressed man in black at the back. "Shit! I will be
late again! This place will never improve!"
The traffic moved
painfully slow, increasing the man's impatience and making him swear. The
driver tried to make a left cut into the service lane. But that happened to be
a bad idea. The lane was narrow and many other drivers had had similar
thoughts, hence cramming their vehicles into the congested lane. There looked
to be no way out. Except for moving in first gear. The driver moved on, the
owner providing him a fillip via his invectives. All of a sudden, a dog ran in
front of the car, tottering and puttering about, unable to decide which side to
move and then finally dashed to the left, thus making the driver swerve
violently to the right and jerk to a stop. There was a sickening crunch and the
owner looked up, livid. He finally extricated his eyes from the tab, abandoned
it for the time being and got out of the car, slamming the door. The car's
right front headlight had smashed into the pavement on the right. In a bid to
save the dog, the driver had driven it straight into the pavement, stopping
just in time before a huge dent could be inflicted on the door.
The man's face grew red
and he snatched the driver's shirt collar, shaking him violently. He slapped
him twice. Thrice. Hard. So that the red of his fingers marked their shape on
his cheek while the other boy looked on, agitated. The onlookers now had a
scene to behold and their frustration on the traffic sort of abated a little.
The other guy in the car had got out by now and watched the owner manhandle his
driver, punch him in the face and once in the ribs, all the while raining
expletives on him. The younger boy's heart went out to the driver, feeling
embarrassed at such an erosion of dignity and the loss of self-respect. The
driver’s face was expressionless, his head bowed while he bore the treatment
inflicted by his employer on him. The other guy wondered if the amount would be
deducted from his meagre salary. Perhaps it would. After the owner of the car
had his fill of the other's dignity, they set off and finally reached a large
bungalow where he resided. The car had to be taken for repair. Before that, the
servants proceeded to a nearby tea stall to shake off the episode. The younger
man brought two cups of tea, offering one to the injured driver.
"Where are the
biscuits?", he demanded and the young servant went to get some biscuits.
"Here", he handed them to the driver, who began to sip his tea, one
hot sip at a time. "Aaaak-thoooo!!", the driver spat the tea out on
the young servant, his shirt and a part of his chin bearing the brunt.
"What kind of tea was this?", he ordered and scolded his younger
counterpart for a crappy tea. The boy looked at him, astonished at the change
in his behavior, indignant at the treatment he had received after his sympathy
and feelings for him. When the older servant crumpled and threw the cup away,
the boy’s feelings for him had evaporated. In its place, was born a lingering
dislike, a feeling that the man had been given an apt deal by the employer. He
went away, his faith shaken.
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