DAV 870

The minute I stepped into the car, the familiar smell accosted me sending a whirl of memories rushing past my head. My hand automatically reached for the seatbelt as he revved up the engine— a mileage of 17, I’m told proudly—and I remember this is a vintage car, there are no seatbelts.

It’s been long, since I sat in this seat; there was a time I sat in it almost everyday, traversing all parts of this city I’ve grown to love and watched streets fly by as I was made to learn the names. The car stops, it’s a red light. I shift in the seat, have you grown fatter that you don’t fit in, two whacks while he ducks and we laugh as the signal turns green.

Looking out of the window, the world suddenly seems fresher. I think of times we laughed, not knowing where we would go, would we stay in touch if we left the school hours that forced us together, would we laugh at the same jokes that weren’t funny? We knew so much lesser of the world, we didn’t know we could choose ‘better’, would we choose better and glance indulgently backwards and shake our head?

We’re told we would find our own set of people once we grew older who we would ‘identify’ with more. Sure, we’ve all found people who’re closer to what we are, who’re possibly riding our wavelength as we burst into newer, freer individuals… I leave old memories willfully walking away, but this smell reminds me acutely of times I loved, times I didn’t ‘know better’; times I suddenly realize I miss.

The car turns around a bend, we are talking about the play I watched and he missed. Jam packed, I wish I’d reached in time. We talk of other things, there are things that seemed to need more time, more time, more time. We take longer routes, we ignore commitments, we pretend to be free; we feign ignorance of the late hour. Parked outside the gate, unwilling to be the first to acknowledge the hundred screaming phone calls that beckon us, finally we shift, I should be going… Yeah me too. An impulsive hug, and I hop out. He revs up the engine, I remember something and tap at the window. Puzzled grin, and he rolls the window down. Drive safely, you. Tongue out, I’m happy today.