*(Impressions shared with my Apartment Complex group (150 families) on returning to Bangalore after a while*)
An array of cars parked around the inside of Srishti compound, and the golden rays of the early sun bestowing a gentle glow to them may not particularly be spectacular, but is a reasonable bargain for a morning walk. You start late, and you pay a price – the rays get warmer. Earlier the parking lot was the monopoly of Maruti and Hyundai. Now it boasts of almost all brands and variants. Only Mercedes and Nano are conspicuous by their absence. I think someone enterprising should buy a Nano and write on its back, “When I grow, I will become Mercedes,” and make up for both. Innovative inscriptions are the hallmark of Delhi cars. “Pappu, Sonu aur Chotti di Gaddi”, writes one putting the constituents of his family on public domain. “You dare overtake me,” prints the other, warning you of the youth at the wheels and the challenge ahead. The lorry drivers follow their own pattern. “*Buri Nazar Wale, Tera Moonh Kaala” *(You evil-eyed, blackened be thy face), they write, as though there are no better vehicles on road to cast one’s eyes on than theirs with rattling engines, wobbling bodies and jarring beats of retreaded tyres. In our open parking area, some have the knack of parking at 90 degrees in a slanted slot. One could guess three possibilities. They wish to be head and shoulders above the crowd; they are too well connected to have undergone the rigours of driving and parking tests; or, they return home very late and are eager to join their kids and spouse to observe norms. An incurable optimist, I would bet my rupee on the last. It doesn’t require a Sherlock Holmes or Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot to guess how many residents are on travel status at a given time. Just spot the cars that are covered, and you get the figure - with residence numbers marked in the parking lot. A perfect shortcut to an elaborate door-to-door survey for any prospective burglar to decamp with valuables. (Now don't start guessing, I was in US at the last burglary.) Speaking of covers, some tend to be an apology for covering. Lack of tight knots at places, aided by wind, turn them into a maximum cloth, minimum coverage, a la Marilyn Monroe's iconic pose in *The* *Seven Year Itch*. The weekly open car-wash is as much enjoyable as, back in the village, the mahout gives the elephant a bath before it is bedecked and taken in procession with a replica of the village deity mounted. But here, some cleaners give the car a sponge bath, and wipe it with a cloth that has seen better days - and keep you guessing which way the dirt-transfer takes place. A few others splash mugs-full of water at such incredible force and speed that you are better off keep a distance unless you enjoy the rebound spray. Yet other cleaners, with their own 9-to-5 regular jobs, pour a bucket-full on the top and call it quits. The ground still fully wet when the owner lands and inspects, he drives to work fully satisfied at his HR skills that he has hired the best cleaner in town. V.V. Sundaram Phoenix 19 November 2011
