Legitimacy

“Ya, it was Kewl(cool), I cant believe, that they actually made a fool of principal, I like their group… but they’re so proudy…. And so much arrogant… Never talk to anyone…” She said, as they drove away from school.

“I know, they think too much of themselves, for nothing. But they didn’t do anything to the principal, she called their parents, there case is gone now, they’ll be in severe trouble.” He replied, with a slight emphasis on nothing, and severe. Quite obviously he wasn’t impressed with their antics. “They just speak a lot, don’t have guts to do anything.” That was his ultimate verdict, it would seem, as he turned the car around the roundabout, and exited it right, instead of straight taking a slightly more circuitous route home, in honor of his guest. He was driving Neha home, for no apparent reason. She was meant to use the bus, but she’d decided to go with him instead, because it would be faster. In fact, she would probably reach at the same time as normal, or at least wanted to. Imagine having to explain coming home early to her mother!

Neha was just your average girl in school, everything about her was normal. And it was normal for a normal girl to go for rides home with Ankit, who was also a completely normal guy, which basically meant, all he was concerned with was getting into Neha’s tunic, since that was the school uniform they used. And Neha, being a completely normal girl, was only concerned with how much social mileage she could get out of these advances from Ankit, in fact, she was already thinking of how she would leave him. Because after all there was no greater boost to social status than rejecting someone… of course it would be better, if she could make him really fall for her. She thought about this, and thought about the things she could do to make him. Perhaps, she should wear her older tunics to college, they were a little short for her now, and would definitely help.

What else?...

“Hey have the latest SRK’s movie, ‘My name is Khan?’” Ankit asked her, disturbing her reverie. Ankit was completely aware that Neha was normal, and part of being normal was liking SRK, and liking guys who had their own cars. He knew he was going to be okay. He didn’t have high expectations of himself, but Neha was comfortably within his ‘range.’

Of course no one would suspect, or imagine, or admit to be doing these calculations while they were driving home, to drop her off. They were just good friends, or just friends, and it was perfectly normal for him to drop her off, when she missed her bus, that was what they would tell everyone else.

Ankit pressed the accelerator to the floor, and the car surged forward, with an escalating rasp, the plume of dust behind his car, grew a few feet. It was a swift, brand new, and still not quite satisfactory, it needed some work, a few modifications, basically another 5 or 6 thousand rupees… he wanted to have neon under lights. Of course, the Nitrous Oxide booster that they were supposed to indicate was still a thing of fiction in his town, but well, it wasn’t really about that. In fact he barely ever drove above 80, unless of course there was a girl in his car.

Right now, he was approaching 60 again, in third gear, with his engine whining under the throttle. With a quick crisp motion of hand and foot, he put into fourth, and re floored the accelerator. The engine took a second’s breather from its scream, as the gears engaged, and then went back to its throaty snarl, the speedometer climbed rapidly to 80, and Ankit snapped the car into top gear, and jammed the throttle down. This time the engine took up a higher note, and started to purr, loudly. It neither protested being treated like this, nor did it enjoy it, it was just doing its job… as they sped down the road, now at just over a hundred kilometers an hour.

Ankit looked over to Neha; her face was a cross between boredom and expectation. So she’d been at this speed before? Hmm.. he kept the throttle floored, till the car hit 110, now she seemed to be leaving her comfort zone. Just to add to things, he turned down the windows, and left the air come in, with all its noise, bring home the fact of their speed. That was a bad move. Neha looked over at him, with her hair flailing all over her face and the wind so loud, she had to shout. She raised her hand to her face, to try to keep the hair out of her eyes, and so she could speak, and said, “Put the windows back up.” He didn’t hear her, but guessed that was what she would say. So he put the windows up, and watched as her hair settled in place and she dropped her hands to her side.

He eased the car to around 80 again, the straight stretch was coming to an end, and there was an intersection coming up. Neha was trying to fix her hair, it was all over the place, so he reached over, and flipped the sun-shade down, it had a small vanity mirror on the inside, and Neha looked into this, trying to resettle tresses. She seemed slightly miffed by what had happened, and Ankit felt like he should apologize, but she didn’t say anything, so he didn’t, and turned back to the road.

The intersection was coming up, he slowed the car down to 40, then engine dropped to a low comfortable whisper, and he swung the car to the left, onto another long straight stretch of road, but this time, with considerable amounts of other traffic. He probably wouldn’t drive at more than 80 on this road, so he eased the accelerator this time, without any of the smart snappiness of his early transmissions. He was drove easily, thinking of something to say to Neha. He shifted back up to fifth slowly, methodically, the engine remaining at a comfortable purr, the speedometer finally settled around 70, and he moved in close to the divider, into what should have been the fast lane. They passed several cars and two wheelers, before anyone spoke.

“Are you okay,” Ankit finally asked.

“Yeah,” She replied, “I’m fine,” and to illustrate this, she flicked on last errant strand of hair behind her ear, and smiled at him. He felt more at ease. And looked back to the road, and they drove on. It was a hot afternoon is summer, as it always was. The he turned the A/c on, wondering why he hadn’t earlier, she adjusted one of the outlets, so that the stream of cool hit her straight in the face, flicking a few strands of hair across her eyes and forehead. She smiled coyly as she tried to put them in place.

He still felt hot, he took of his tie, and loosened his collar, opening the top button. She too oh her tie too, and opened the top two buttons of her shirt, he looked over, but there still wasn’t anything to see, she noticed his disappointment, and smiled inwardly. It was nice.

The car became much cooler, and because of that there seemed to be a distance developing between the cocoon of coolness inside, and the heat, noise, and dust outside. It was a pleasant situation to be in. He looked over at her again, and smiled, still wondering what he could say, then he remembered, what they had been talking about…

“So do you know Amit?”

“Not so much also, he is a classmate, so ‘Hi-Hello’ types, only, but I knew Rishab. He was my good friend.”

“Oh is also caught?”

“Yeah, they were together only, they’re best friends, its not possible, that if Amit does something, Rishab isn’t involved. He was also there.”

“Oh, I never knew they were friends. I thought Rishab was a nice guy, good hearted kind.”

“No, he is, its just this Amit, who does all these kinds of things, and because of him Rishab is also becoming like that.”

“Oh, and what about Shruti, how come she was also there?”

“She likes Amit ya, you know, and he is very charming, so she thought he really liked her, he was just using her ya. But now her life is ruined.”

“tsk tsk…” Says Ankit, now contemplatively, “One mistake, and ruined for life… poor thing. The guys, will get away, after all, they’re guys, no one cares what they did”

“I know, but its not her fault also, she was tricked, but no one will believe her…”

“I know, she is such a nice girl, totally messed up her life, now is totally marooned…”

“hmmm yeah…” Replied Ankit, “And exposed”

After that, uncertain of what the other had meant, the conversation died down. They two of them, would have done better using Hindi, which they did when around their friends, but courtship required a statement of class, and neither one was going to give in*.

Amit barely noticed the intersection coming up, so engrossed had he been in what Neha was saying, that when he decided to slow down, it was too late. He over shot the stop line, and ended up with a third of his car on the zebra lines. And just when he was feeling grateful, that he was in a part of town where there weren’t cops, he spotted one.

Dressed in the white of the Traffic Police, he was holding a booklet of pink and green leaves, obviously a chalan book. The Traffic Cop, wasn’t looking towards Ankit, but perhaps aware of the scrutiny, he suddenly turned in his direction, and spotted the car. A new swift, school kids, and a blatant infraction, he smelt money.

He hitched his blue trouser up, and pulled his beret of his head, and the sauntered over, stroking his upper lip with his free hand, and then feeling for the pen in his shirt pocket after that. Ankit saw that he was fairly caught, he wasn’t carrying any money on him, and of course he couldn’t ask Neha for help. So he wondered about the many ‘contacts’ he could use, but none of them made any sense, no one could actually bail him out right now. So was it going to be a Chalan? He wondered he’d never got one before; he’d always bribed his way out of such a situation. Well there was a first time for everything.

He slowly put the car into reverse, and backed it behind the stop line, turned it off, and waited. The cop took his time coming over, now that he saw his prey had surrendered himself, he put on a calm, business like face. He liked this sort, who knew the drill, who would pay money, perhaps not large amounts but respectable amounts. At least he wouldn’t have to haggle, or explain the system to this guy. It was nice.

He walked up to the car, and Ankit lowered the window, and he spoke first, “Hello sir.” The cops manner changed, he thought the salutation too informal, the smile withered a little, the moustache bristled, “License”

“Sir, hanji,…” said Ankit, taking out his wallet.

“Sir, jaane dijiye… na, coti se galti hai… sorry, maaf kar dijiye.”

“Maaf? Maaf kar di jiye? Bhahi kanoon bhi kuck hota hai ki nahi?”

“Nahi sir, kanoon to sabse bada hota hai, par, daya bhi to kar sakte hai aap, bacche hai, sir, chod dihiye…”

“Kyun Chodu? Galti ki hai tumne, ki nahi? Signal toda na tumne?”

“Ji sir, galti to bahut badi ki, par, aap maaf bhi to kar sakte hai.”

“Main? Main kaise maaf kar doon?”

“Sir, aaphi to sabkuch hai, aap maaf kar denge, to sab thik ho jaega”

“Aur again na karoon to? To? Bolo… kya karoge?”

“Sir, vohi karenge jo aap bologe… sir”

“To, fir license nikalo, registry do… chalaan katega.”

“Arey sir, chalaan mat katiye… sir, kuch to samajhiye”

“Kya samjhun? Ha? Bolo?... license dijiye…”

“Yes sir, okay sir…” Ankit handed over his license, the cop took it, looked it over officiously… but made no move to copy down anything, yet. Ankit encouraged by this sign leaned over to the cop. “Sir, jaane dijiye na… abhi to vaise bhi kucch nahi hai mere pass, to mein kya karoon hota to, mein pakka deta,” he opened his empty to wallet to emphasize his point.

“Iska kya matlab hai? Kuch nahi hai? Registry nahi hai? Hai na… do… chalaan katega tunhara.”

Ankit reached into the glove compartment, with an apologetic smile to Neha, and opened it. Brought out his registration papers and handed them over slowly to he cop, thinking, this guy is straight, he’s really going to give me a ticket, which really isn’t that bad I guess, it’ll be some 400 bucks, I can pay it off… okay…

The cop looked at the papers again. “registry tumhare naam mein nahi hai.”

“Nahi sir, papa ke naam mein hain.”

“Accha…” he turned his attention back to the License, thinking, I judged wrong, this kid doesn’t know what’s happening, I’m going to have to make a chalaan, for him, bother. He looked back at the license, opened its pages, and looked at the picture.

It was obviously a fake, no one in school could have a driving license, but it was a bad fake… the picture didn’t look much like him, and his address was listed in a town at least 150 kilometers away, not to mention it wasn’t signed by the RTO, or any authority, but merely rubber stamped. The cop looked at it thoughtfully. This wouldn’t fly, he couldn’t make a chaalan, that wouldn’t check out against licenses issued… what he should do is confiscate the vehicle and the license, impound it and make the kid appear in court.

It would serve the punk right too… He looked at the Registration papers again, “hmm tumhare papa doctor hai?”

“Ji sir,”

“Oh, kahaan pe kaam karte hai?”

“Sir unki private clinic hai.”

“Main doctoro ki bahut izzat karta hun. Vo bhi hamare tarah samaj sevak hai. Tum bhi doctor banoge bade ho kar?”

“Ji sir,” ankits said… truthfully enough.

“Haan, to phir theek hai, maaf kiya tumhe. Jao.”

Ankit was so surprised at this new development, for a bit he didn’t know what was happening, then he noticed out of the corner of his eye the cop was handing back his documents. Slowly, almost expecting a booby trap, he reached out, and took them, and put between the seats of the car. The cop gave him a threatening look of boredom, and backed away from the car. Ankit turned the key in the engine, and softly, obediently, it came to life, almost as though like Ankit, it didn’t want to break this spell of benevolence. More gently than he had ever in the past, he eased his car into gear, and still submissively, eased it into traffic, and drove away.

The cop stood there for another half minute watching them, enjoying the sense of power it gave him, to watch the car drive away so meekly. But he knew, he’d dodged a bullet just there. What if the boy didn’t take the hint, or what if his father hadn’t been a doctor. Wow! What if he had actually confiscated the license, he’d have to impound the car, and go to court, and all that bother, thank god, and the kid was smart enough to get it. Or he’d be in a lot of trouble. The he chuckled to himself, the bit about doctors had been pure genius… actually, he hated docs, specially the private clinic kind, leeches, is what he compared them too, but he wasn’t looking for all that trouble.*

Ankit had regained some of his composure by the time he dropped Neha off. So had Neha. He was playing the latest Enrique number, and she was enjoying it in the cool of the A/c. playing the beat on her thigh. Ankit, occasionally glanced down at her thighs, and smiled at her. She didn’t seem to mind that much. When they drew up at her house, Neha saw the time, it was about 45 minutes past her usual time. Not so good… she checked herself in the vanity mirror once more… her hair was all over the place,  but the rest of her was okay. She quickly buttoned up her shirt, and put her tie around her neck. She didn’t tighten it too much, after all, who was going to look? Her hair was a mess; still, she just put as much of it as she could into her rubber band, and picked up her bag. And swinging it, walked up the short driveway.

She wondered what she should say, if asked about being late. Something about the bus taking another route? That might work fine. Her luck was out though, as she neared the screen door to the drawing room, she heard voices, and one of them was Mrs. Khanna’s.

Mrs. Khanna was her mother’s closes rival in society. Her husband had only recently climbed into the society that Mrs. Kumar, Neha’s mom had ruled for decades, almost since her marriage. Mrs. Khanna was now giving Mrs. Kumar a run for her money, throwing more lavish, if less tasteful parties, and hers were better attended.

It was therefore only natural that they were best friends. And this very Mrs. Khanna was visiting today, as Neha stood outside the door. She realized that something more than just a cosmetic straightening up would be needed. She quickly gathered the last few strands of free hair and tried to tuck them into her pony tail, but without any glass around her, was incapable of knowing how a good job she’d done. The tie was pulled higher, almost back in place, but not quite, aware that after a full day of school, ties slipped at least a little. She tugged at the bottom of her tunic, and straightened her shirt. She slung her back on both shoulders, and with a practiced hunch, that of the tired school girl decided to enter the house, looking anything but someone who had been enjoying the stylish new interiors of the Swift Lx, and its new, and more powerful A/c.

But she was still nervous, her mom could be unpredictable in her maternal duties. She could be the very epitome of matronly affection at times, and at others usually before a party, treat Neha with casual distance. Her greatest concern was Neha getting into trouble, and people finding out about it. Of course there were various kinds of trouble. And boy-girl trouble was the first on the list, then came school work trouble, like doing badly, then came social trouble, like being in the wrong place at the wrong time, like a club, when they were people who knew the family there, then there was familiy trouble, like when she raised her voice in the house, or at her mother, this usually only mattered when it was within ear shot of the servants, or guests.

And right now, Neha was guilty of Boy-Girl trouble, and being late. She was going to be asked about it. For sure, and be grilled and probably subjected to some form of torture, like being prevented from going to swim or something similarly devastating to her social routine. Normally she would have gotten away with it, but with Mrs. Khanna and her mum in the drawing room this wasn’t going to be pretty.

Almost as she stepped in, and looked around to greet Mrs. Khanna, her mother asked her, in a very level voice. “Where were you? It’s much past your bus time? How did you get late?”

Aborting the half, uttered, “good af-“ to Mrs. Khanna, Neha turned to her mother, and to the recourse for all such situations, “We had extra class mum, sorry, so we got late. Mrs. Wal, wanted to take extra class, because no one did their homework on act 3, and every one said they didn’t understand it. So she kept us back.”

 A look of triumph spread across Mrs. Kumar’s face, “Okay fine, then, go up to your room and freshen up. Okay?”

“Yes mum.”

“See,” said Mrs. Kumar, turning to Mrs. Khanna, “My Neha isn’t like those girls you were talking about, who talks to boys, and goes home with them and all. She’s a good girl, and honest too… she tells me everything, really. We share a special bond. I’m so lucky to have a child like her, unlike some kids who keep getting into trouble, and then you have to move them from school and all… I’m so grateful to God for such Good daughter.”

Of course, neither of them pointed out, that Neha’s answer had in fact raised more questions that it answered. Not the least being of how she got home, which would have lead directly to boy-girl territory. The point being of course, not so much ascertaining whether she was in boy-girl territory, but-

*Just like all those in this story till now, to assert one’s position, rather than to live up to it… a search not so much for agency,  or action, but legitimacy, far more valuable, tangible and visible.