Buying the first car of one’s life is usually a big deal for
everyone. It is by no means an inexpensive investment. So the very fact
that you can afford one gives you a sense of achievement and you get the
thought that maybe cramming for those exams and then working like a
zombie has some advantages too.
We never had a car growing up, we had (have) the coolest Rajdoot bike, a bike which real men like Dharmendra drove! I was so used to it because I remember riding on it since I was 4 till a week before my dad suddenly died. Although that Rajdoot was the apple of our eye, this piece is not about the motorcycle -- it deserves a separate article in itself.
Now growing up in a middle-class family with one parent working in a bank and the other as a teacher meant although I would be spoiled silly as an only child, there were limits about what I could have. A car was regarded as a luxury when we were kids and I didn’t care much because cmonnn riding in a bike with my dad to school every day was way cooler than being cooped in a car. But then I started getting older, taller and it was not possible for the three of us to sit in one bike together. Dad had to pick me up and mom in two trips and we all started feeling the need for a car.
Maruti 800 started the famous ad campaign which must have touched the soul of every middle class family in India with its emotional, angsty song “Mera sapna, meri Maruti”. There were a series of ads where a young man usually reminisces in sepia coloured shots about his days when he used to travel on a two-wheeler along with his siblings or parents and now he has a Maruti car, the quintessential affordable small car which no Nano shano can ever hope to beat! The ad always ended with another kid or adult in a two-wheeler looking longingly at the car as it zoomed by. Those were the days when the ads knew how to target their consumers with just the right words and scenes.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fcWKBlnRo6g
We had that the same longing look and hoped one day we will be able to buy a car. My mom especially really wanted one and Dad’s always said the same thing, “Let’s buy a house first; you can’t sleep in car every day, can you?” Wise words, but then we just work like gadhas (sounds less indecent) our whole lives and keep denying our desires, but really is it worth it? Maybe it is but then a little bit of indulgence is required once in a while, as Jonathan Swift talked about “The Stoical scheme of supplying our wants by lopping off our desires, is like cutting off our feet when we want shoes.”
Coming back to the topic, the car was always on our minds. We even had a car stereo which was the first cassette player in my house till I was about 12 and my father thought one day we could use it in our car so why discard it. Later Dad in rare moments of exuberance even went on singing, “I have a dream... to buy a car”! In the late 90s, banks started bombarding everyone with car loan ads and small-town Guwahati, with people gradually finding themselves with sound purchasing power, filled the roads with four-wheelers. Traffic was a nightmare and still continues to be. Although we will probably reach our destination sooner if we walk, people continue sitting in their AC cars moving at a snail’s pace, hoping to be on that 10-min stretch of empty road soon and feel that buying the car was worth it. Neighbours envied other neighbours, colleagues congratulated colleagues on their new vehicles with a pang in their hearts, secretly wondering, “How did Mr X manage to buy a new car? Oh he has only one child, he doesn’t have to worry about education expenses of TWO children like I do!”
I left Guwahati for New Delhi during that time and Delhi was a different place altogether. Cars, cars and more gaddi. Maruti Esteem everywhere, a Merc once in a while, later BMWs and other swanky ones flooded the roads. Bhe poo Bhe poo everywhere (it is soooo quiet in Austin, honking is rude you see :-o). But lesser mortals like me, with no rich Punjabi munda boyfriend, had to rely on rickety DTC buses, surrounded by creepy men, pickpocketers, gigantic ladies poking to get more space, legs cramping for standing for so long and the worst --- travelling to NOIDA sitting on the engine seat near the driver with 20 more people surrounding him, as the heat of the engine was enough to melt the soles of my shoes and a garish, high-pitched “Sheeeshaa ho ya dil hoooooo, akhir toot jaata hai” playing in an almost broken cassette player near my ear!
As my salary continued to increase, I decided to do myself a favour and use auto rickshaws for daily commuting; they cost a lot but at least were more comfortable. But those damn autowalas!!!%&^#&&*# (All my colleagues have seen me enter the office at least once, fuming and cursing the auto drivers of Delhi. The meter se chalo--meter kharab hai argument was a daily occurrence and added to my stress levels. Grrrrrrrr. I wanted my own car so bad :-(
Later I came to America, the land of plenty, and I thought my troubles were over. Thenga! At least in India we had autos, rickshaws and even buses had so many stops you hardly had to walk. They were frequent, sometimes 2, 3 arriving for the same route, unlike here where you have to wait for minimum 20 min if you miss the bus and the stops don’t even have proper shades to protect you from the Texan heat! So here I was, walking in the heat, carrying groceries and walking, panting, seeing mirages of autowalas in front of me. Who knew I would miss ever them! Commuting was a pain here, relying on google maps, finding bus routes, estimated travel time and depending on friends here for pickups and drops which the independent me always found awkward.
But now Sentra is in my life. My lovely Sentra
My new missions: Learn to drive but no rush, I just want to relax and happily be the navigator for a while. And second, get my mom a car back home, the iron lady with the simplicity of a child deserves to drive around in style!. Till then, dil bole vroom vroom!
We never had a car growing up, we had (have) the coolest Rajdoot bike, a bike which real men like Dharmendra drove! I was so used to it because I remember riding on it since I was 4 till a week before my dad suddenly died. Although that Rajdoot was the apple of our eye, this piece is not about the motorcycle -- it deserves a separate article in itself.
Now growing up in a middle-class family with one parent working in a bank and the other as a teacher meant although I would be spoiled silly as an only child, there were limits about what I could have. A car was regarded as a luxury when we were kids and I didn’t care much because cmonnn riding in a bike with my dad to school every day was way cooler than being cooped in a car. But then I started getting older, taller and it was not possible for the three of us to sit in one bike together. Dad had to pick me up and mom in two trips and we all started feeling the need for a car.
Maruti 800 started the famous ad campaign which must have touched the soul of every middle class family in India with its emotional, angsty song “Mera sapna, meri Maruti”. There were a series of ads where a young man usually reminisces in sepia coloured shots about his days when he used to travel on a two-wheeler along with his siblings or parents and now he has a Maruti car, the quintessential affordable small car which no Nano shano can ever hope to beat! The ad always ended with another kid or adult in a two-wheeler looking longingly at the car as it zoomed by. Those were the days when the ads knew how to target their consumers with just the right words and scenes.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fcWKBlnRo6g
We had that the same longing look and hoped one day we will be able to buy a car. My mom especially really wanted one and Dad’s always said the same thing, “Let’s buy a house first; you can’t sleep in car every day, can you?” Wise words, but then we just work like gadhas (sounds less indecent) our whole lives and keep denying our desires, but really is it worth it? Maybe it is but then a little bit of indulgence is required once in a while, as Jonathan Swift talked about “The Stoical scheme of supplying our wants by lopping off our desires, is like cutting off our feet when we want shoes.”
Coming back to the topic, the car was always on our minds. We even had a car stereo which was the first cassette player in my house till I was about 12 and my father thought one day we could use it in our car so why discard it. Later Dad in rare moments of exuberance even went on singing, “I have a dream... to buy a car”! In the late 90s, banks started bombarding everyone with car loan ads and small-town Guwahati, with people gradually finding themselves with sound purchasing power, filled the roads with four-wheelers. Traffic was a nightmare and still continues to be. Although we will probably reach our destination sooner if we walk, people continue sitting in their AC cars moving at a snail’s pace, hoping to be on that 10-min stretch of empty road soon and feel that buying the car was worth it. Neighbours envied other neighbours, colleagues congratulated colleagues on their new vehicles with a pang in their hearts, secretly wondering, “How did Mr X manage to buy a new car? Oh he has only one child, he doesn’t have to worry about education expenses of TWO children like I do!”
I left Guwahati for New Delhi during that time and Delhi was a different place altogether. Cars, cars and more gaddi. Maruti Esteem everywhere, a Merc once in a while, later BMWs and other swanky ones flooded the roads. Bhe poo Bhe poo everywhere (it is soooo quiet in Austin, honking is rude you see :-o). But lesser mortals like me, with no rich Punjabi munda boyfriend, had to rely on rickety DTC buses, surrounded by creepy men, pickpocketers, gigantic ladies poking to get more space, legs cramping for standing for so long and the worst --- travelling to NOIDA sitting on the engine seat near the driver with 20 more people surrounding him, as the heat of the engine was enough to melt the soles of my shoes and a garish, high-pitched “Sheeeshaa ho ya dil hoooooo, akhir toot jaata hai” playing in an almost broken cassette player near my ear!
As my salary continued to increase, I decided to do myself a favour and use auto rickshaws for daily commuting; they cost a lot but at least were more comfortable. But those damn autowalas!!!%&^#&&*# (All my colleagues have seen me enter the office at least once, fuming and cursing the auto drivers of Delhi. The meter se chalo--meter kharab hai argument was a daily occurrence and added to my stress levels. Grrrrrrrr. I wanted my own car so bad :-(
Later I came to America, the land of plenty, and I thought my troubles were over. Thenga! At least in India we had autos, rickshaws and even buses had so many stops you hardly had to walk. They were frequent, sometimes 2, 3 arriving for the same route, unlike here where you have to wait for minimum 20 min if you miss the bus and the stops don’t even have proper shades to protect you from the Texan heat! So here I was, walking in the heat, carrying groceries and walking, panting, seeing mirages of autowalas in front of me. Who knew I would miss ever them! Commuting was a pain here, relying on google maps, finding bus routes, estimated travel time and depending on friends here for pickups and drops which the independent me always found awkward.
But now Sentra is in my life. My lovely Sentra
My new missions: Learn to drive but no rush, I just want to relax and happily be the navigator for a while. And second, get my mom a car back home, the iron lady with the simplicity of a child deserves to drive around in style!. Till then, dil bole vroom vroom!
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