KUNDALAKESI'S RANTS

                          Ungrateful Bonehead

I hate it when a man tries to blame a woman driver for his 'miss by a whisker' escape. Why can't he ever thank the woman as his timely saviour? Have you ever heard a man say, if it was not for her, I wouldn't be alive now! I bet that is very rare indeed!

So, once it so happened that I had the misfortune of travelling with a painfully opinionated man who was lamentably my friend's husband. We were travelling from Delhi to Jaipur for a wedding and I had to endure three hours of his balderdash on; you guessed it right, the current political scenario of the country. While his indignation rose, the needle on the speedometer too moved up. I nudged my friend to check his speed. 

However, to my utter dismay, he dismissed her warning and continued his diatribe. 

Far ahead of us, I noticed a road from the left joining the highway. There was no traffic signal at that point. Unless our car slowed down, there was every chance of a crash if a vehicle drove from the left towards the highway. I was quite tense and hoped that the dimwit would slow down. I even cautioned him with much wariness. He tossed an unpleasant glance at me through the rear-view mirror, reminding me that I had no knowledge of the controls of that particular car which was apparently imported from Korea. 

I sighed gloomily, wishing I had opted for a solo trip in a state-run bus or Uber or Ola or whatever... other than this. My friend turned around, giving me a conciliatory smile, which led to another train of thoughts. Why should a wife be apologetic for her husband’s behaviour? Heaving a long sigh at my never-ending rage, I kept quiet, smothering the turbulent thoughts that were clamouring for release.

On the edge of my seat now, I hoped that my friend would plant some sense into her husband's thick head. Because I pointed out that he needed to slow down, his chauvinistic mind refused to comply. Instead, he pressed his foot harder on the accelerator. 

As we inched closer to the intersection, (my heart praying that no vehicle shows up), a white and sleek beauty whizzed past us, forcing our man to slow down. The driver of the Maserati, yes, you guessed it right, a woman, raced across the intersection, once again forcing the driver of a station wagon which was coming from the road on the left to brake his vehicle. While both the male drivers swore aloud, the Maserati surged ahead happily, oblivious to the fact that she had saved an otherwise imminent collision between two vehicles.

All the way to our destination, my friend's husband kept calling the woman driver names; and accepted dismally that if he had owned a car like that, he too would have driven like her. However, his masculine ego was not willing to accept that a woman drove much skilfully and splendidly, and saved all of us from an undoubtful crash. 

Who could tell an obstinate man like him that a car is not just a man's toy? A woman too can play with it. 

I suppose she had evoked his envy and male desire to own and control something as untameable as her or her Maserati. Before we reached the destination, I called him all kinds of names... of course in my head; only my consideration for my friend stopped me from saying them aloud.

Like you guessed, I avoided the return trip with them. I took a cab whose driver, to my horror, declared that all women drivers were a menace on the road. I wanted to bang his head on the windshield. Luckily my rage did not spill over and I reached home in one piece. So much for much needed break from my work!

Now, those of you who know my name must be wondering who this Kundalakesi is.... Well, that story is for another time...

Till then, stay safe....