The Tempo Ride

It was a day as most days go.
...until Mom decided to hitch a ride on the tempo with our new wardrobe!

One of our bedrooms was our Storeroom. After three years of indecisive laziness in clearing up the extra furniture and other Stuff, I finally decided to turn it into a 'Room for Ideas and Peace'.Having wealthy ancestry can most oft be a boon, but when it comes to furniture, you always feel the lack of space to occupy it. It's usually more of a body, and less inside, like a hunky model with no grey-cells!(no offence beautiful boys!)

So there is more than enough furniture, but not much that is useful. We ended up with clothes, books and things kept in travel bags and boxes. That kind of became a habit after my stint in hp Bangalore. Living in bags, with bags...

Anyway, after rueing about wanting to clean-up but not really getting it done, on the evening of the day before we just went and bought that wardrobe, kept it in the living room.

Now the exciting part?...what happened in the time between the kharedi of the Wrobe. and its sitting in the living room.
While the transaction was being done, Mom suddenly decides to avoid all kinds of public transport(namely: (1)bus ride-quite easy on the pocket but you end up feeling like you've just been pickled in sweat and a variety of delightfully disgusting essence emanating off at least fifty other people, (2)auto-rickshaw-very breezy comfortable ride but quite a hole in the pocket and smoke in your lungs)

She chooses to ride in the tempo truck!
'Look there's enough space for the three of us-you, me and our wardrobe!'
I insist on the Rick.
'It'll be easy to tell the driver the road, than keep checking whether he's still following our Rickshaw.'
I suddenly realize, she's quite intent!
...and I give in...I just don't know how to say 'no', eh?
Fine. We ride in the back with our wardrobe.

We sat on a folded cardboard box, getting quite a roller coaster ride, what with the Pune roads!
One huge bump and hard breaking led to my temporary backrest turning into a terrible backstabber!Ouch. My spine was awfully shaken up.
and then I look out at the path we were leaving and there were the faces of amusement.
..while I held a look of slight embarrassment!
There was a long piece of cloth tied across the upper section of the wardrobe and tied up to one side of the truck, while we sat on the other side facing our new companion. Throughout from start to end, I was intimidated and humbled by the hugeness of the wardrobe, as I sat at its feet, having all sortsa paranoid ideas...what if the knot of the cloth comes of..what if the tempo tumbles...what if the driver breaks too hard and I just throw myself out of the back! etc etc etc..
Paranoia easily turns a woman to a stupid human!

Swaying, bumping, backstabbing jibes and stories from Mom of bullock cart school rides and truck rides on transferred postings, we reach home.

I tell you, one heck of a ride it was!
I enjoyed it thoroughly, with the amused faces and funny stares, with the bumps, with the paranoia...Yup. I did enjoy it!

anyone speaking of status quo or integrity? I ask those people to bugger off!
Bullock carts and horse-drawn carriages...hmmm...I'm already daydreaming of farms...
Are we short of oil?
...I ain't bothered.
I use my bicycle.
...and it needs only a pint of grease.

At the least one such traveling experience, and it changes you forever.
...and it was only one tempo ride...