07-04-2023, 05:38 PM
Finally we reached the “garage”. I use quote marks because calling it a garage would be too effusive. It was just a small tin shack, probably no bigger than the average bedroom. There was a rusty signboard on top saying “Bajrang Auto Garage” with some Swastik signs painted on the gate and banners. Naresh put my scooter on its side-stand and banged on the metal door of the shack.
“Who is it?” came a thick voice from inside.
“Prashant, it’s me Naresh. Open up.”
The door creaked open and out peered a man I guessed to be Prashant. He was shirtless and wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. He was a small man, shorter than me, and I am just 5’3”. He had a Rajput type moustache, and curly black hair. I’d guess him to be older than Naresh, may be in his 50s.
“What happened?” he asked, staring at me.
“This is Lafiza Madam. She was driving back to Delhi when her scooty broke down. I saw her when I was going home, so brought her here.”
“Hmpfff… OK… bring it in.” Prashant said and opened the folding doors completely. Naresh and I walked in. It was, as I said, a small shack. There was a small mattress in the corner where I guess Prashant slept. The rest of the shack was filled with two-wheelers, their parts and other tools. The whole place also reeked of something I couldn’t quite place… probably just grease and petrol. In another corner was a chair with a table, and on top of the table, a telephone.
“Can I use the phone?” I asked.
“Yes sure.” Prashant said as he started opening the scooty casing.
I picked up the receiver and held it to my ear. Silence. No dial tone. “There is no dial tone” I said.
Prashatnt came over and took the phone from me. As he did, I could not help but notice his still shirt-less torso. It was hairy, and he had a pot belly. There were some stains of grease on his belly and arms.
“I guess the storm knocked the lines out.”
“Oh. Is there someone close by with a cellphone?” I asked.
“There’s just our garage and two other shops here – one a tea stall and another for hardware. Both are closed, and the guys who run them don’t stay in the shops like me. You will have to walk a couple of km that way for any other shops or houses.”
I weighed my options. It was still raining pretty hard. I could walk to the other shops. But may be I could just wait for these men to fix my scooty and then drive. Naresh was already working pretty hard at it. Prashant went and stood next to him and they started discussing whatever was to be done. That’s when my sneezes started. Achoo’s after achoo’s. About a dozen or so.
“Looks like you are catching a cold because of your wet clothes.” Prashant said looking at me. “If you want, I can give you a clean shirt and a lungi to change into.”
“No, that’s fine. I can wait. It won’t take long to fix this anyway, right?”
“It will take about an hour, and…”
He was interrupted by another bout of sneezing from me. After my sneezes subsided, he looked pointedly at me. I could feel the sneezes getting worse. I decided that it would be stupid to risk getting pneumonia when there was an option to change out of my wet clothes.
“OK I suppose I should change.”
Naresh went to the corner and opened a box. He took out a towel, a relatively clean t-shirt, and a lungi. A lungi, for those who don’t know, is a sarong-like wrap that many Indian men wear. He gave it all to me and said, “As you can see, there is no other room. You can change in here. Naresh and I will wait outside.”
They walked out and I went to close the door. It was just a rusty bolt which I slid into the loop. There was a nail hanging from a thread near the bolt. The purpose of the nail, as I later realized, was to be inserted into a hole at the end of the bolt, to act like some sort of a lock. I didn’t realize it then and left the nail hanging as it was, instead of inserting it into the hole. Which, ironically, lead to further events.
I should have moved to the back of the shack to change. But whether it was the greasy smell or just laziness, I did not. I started changing just a couple of feet inside the closed door. I then took off my salwar and kameez which were by now dripping with water. I thought for a second about keeping my bra and panties on, but they were too wet. So I took them off too, and got completely naked. I took the towel and started drying myself. I was drying my hair when it happened. The wind suddenly picked up, and the door started shaking from the wind.
A big and audible gust of wind came and as if in slow motion, I saw the bolt sliding back under the pressure. In what must have been just a second, but felt like an eternity, the bolt slid back completely and the folding doors opened with a bang. Naresh and Prashant who had been standing with their backs to the door were startled by the noise and turned around.
I stood there motionless with my hands holding the towel to my hair, as Naresh and Prashant stared at me dumbfounded. There I was, completely naked. In front of two men I had just met.
“Who is it?” came a thick voice from inside.
“Prashant, it’s me Naresh. Open up.”
The door creaked open and out peered a man I guessed to be Prashant. He was shirtless and wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. He was a small man, shorter than me, and I am just 5’3”. He had a Rajput type moustache, and curly black hair. I’d guess him to be older than Naresh, may be in his 50s.
“What happened?” he asked, staring at me.
“This is Lafiza Madam. She was driving back to Delhi when her scooty broke down. I saw her when I was going home, so brought her here.”
“Hmpfff… OK… bring it in.” Prashant said and opened the folding doors completely. Naresh and I walked in. It was, as I said, a small shack. There was a small mattress in the corner where I guess Prashant slept. The rest of the shack was filled with two-wheelers, their parts and other tools. The whole place also reeked of something I couldn’t quite place… probably just grease and petrol. In another corner was a chair with a table, and on top of the table, a telephone.
“Can I use the phone?” I asked.
“Yes sure.” Prashant said as he started opening the scooty casing.
I picked up the receiver and held it to my ear. Silence. No dial tone. “There is no dial tone” I said.
Prashatnt came over and took the phone from me. As he did, I could not help but notice his still shirt-less torso. It was hairy, and he had a pot belly. There were some stains of grease on his belly and arms.
“I guess the storm knocked the lines out.”
“Oh. Is there someone close by with a cellphone?” I asked.
“There’s just our garage and two other shops here – one a tea stall and another for hardware. Both are closed, and the guys who run them don’t stay in the shops like me. You will have to walk a couple of km that way for any other shops or houses.”
I weighed my options. It was still raining pretty hard. I could walk to the other shops. But may be I could just wait for these men to fix my scooty and then drive. Naresh was already working pretty hard at it. Prashant went and stood next to him and they started discussing whatever was to be done. That’s when my sneezes started. Achoo’s after achoo’s. About a dozen or so.
“Looks like you are catching a cold because of your wet clothes.” Prashant said looking at me. “If you want, I can give you a clean shirt and a lungi to change into.”
“No, that’s fine. I can wait. It won’t take long to fix this anyway, right?”
“It will take about an hour, and…”
He was interrupted by another bout of sneezing from me. After my sneezes subsided, he looked pointedly at me. I could feel the sneezes getting worse. I decided that it would be stupid to risk getting pneumonia when there was an option to change out of my wet clothes.
“OK I suppose I should change.”
Naresh went to the corner and opened a box. He took out a towel, a relatively clean t-shirt, and a lungi. A lungi, for those who don’t know, is a sarong-like wrap that many Indian men wear. He gave it all to me and said, “As you can see, there is no other room. You can change in here. Naresh and I will wait outside.”
They walked out and I went to close the door. It was just a rusty bolt which I slid into the loop. There was a nail hanging from a thread near the bolt. The purpose of the nail, as I later realized, was to be inserted into a hole at the end of the bolt, to act like some sort of a lock. I didn’t realize it then and left the nail hanging as it was, instead of inserting it into the hole. Which, ironically, lead to further events.
I should have moved to the back of the shack to change. But whether it was the greasy smell or just laziness, I did not. I started changing just a couple of feet inside the closed door. I then took off my salwar and kameez which were by now dripping with water. I thought for a second about keeping my bra and panties on, but they were too wet. So I took them off too, and got completely naked. I took the towel and started drying myself. I was drying my hair when it happened. The wind suddenly picked up, and the door started shaking from the wind.
A big and audible gust of wind came and as if in slow motion, I saw the bolt sliding back under the pressure. In what must have been just a second, but felt like an eternity, the bolt slid back completely and the folding doors opened with a bang. Naresh and Prashant who had been standing with their backs to the door were startled by the noise and turned around.
I stood there motionless with my hands holding the towel to my hair, as Naresh and Prashant stared at me dumbfounded. There I was, completely naked. In front of two men I had just met.
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