Driving with Meena!

I took a short road trip with a favorite niece of mine yesterday. In her early twenties, she is everything that I am not. Young, hip-hop and adventurous, she is also ridiculously smart. She munches on Math for a snack and sips on Science for a drink. Poor child…she has problems that way but all her brain power turned to unrecognizable mush yesterday after 3 hours with me in a car.


I am an excellent driver. No one can say otherwise. Safety is the name of the game when I am behind the wheels. If your self-worth is somehow tied to your ability to beat others, get in your car and drive by my side. There are days when you can get off your car and walk on the road and still be faster than me. A sure way to boost your ego, I tell you.


Seeing the gap between my car and the one in front of us, my niece turned baffled eyes at me yesterday and said “Chithi (aunt), do you realize that there is enough gap here to fit an entire continent?” to which I smiled proudly and nodded. Unsure of the next move, she asked gingerly “How do you feel about stepping on the gas Chithi?”


I have a feeling that this particular moment will be etched in her memory forever. In fact, I bet she is lying in a bed somewhere this very minute wondering what bad karma put those words in her mouth that opened the floodgates of my unsolicited wisdom.


And she won’t be lying in a bed with her eyes closed, I guarantee you. She will be staring up at the ceiling in a trance-like state. How can I be so sure? Because this is a genetic gift from my Dad to all of us. Whenever we put on our thinking caps, we tilt our heads upwards towards the ceiling and just stare. It is as though we are imploring the powers above for some divine assistance. The truth is none of us have mastered this art of staring at the ‘mOttu’ like my Dad. We try but we just don’t seem to have his dignity.


Rambling back to my niece’s question, I opened my mouth and let the wisdom of my age spew at her. And I mean it when I say spew. Like empty-your-guts kind of puking. In no uncertain terms, I made sure that she understood the value of a human life and how much I value mine in particular. I even quoted from Swami Chinmayananda thanks to listening to my husband's many glorious "Hurray! I got THE call; now let me help you get ready for yours" spiritual discourses. Hope I did him proud when I continued asking my niece questions like “Where do we have to go in such a hurry?”, “Will the world stop revolving if we are late by a few minutes?” not to mention, the quintessential ‘Will it be worth it”? What little wisdom my 4 molar teeth gave to me, I wanted to imbibe in her.

As the official navigator, at one point she told me that I should move to the right lane to take a different road and I had 4 miles to do it. I was in a frenzy to do it right away so she said "No hurry chithi, you have lots of time". So now I had to explain how it is better to do things ahead 'just in case'. I quoted eloquently from the life of my Dad who made us all go to the railway station and wait in the platform several hours before the train would come on each of our vacations. And he always said 'Just in case' too. I even remember helping the janitor sweep the platform sometimes.


With her ears profusely bleeding from my ‘thy shall not drive faster’ and 'thy shall prepare ahead just in case' lectures, she was exhausted and put her seat back and closed her eyes in exhaustion and slipped in to a painless sleep. That left me and my restless mind all alone on the I-95 corridor behind a wheel. I did what I usually do to entertain myself while driving. I started singing but I decided to give my niece a break at last. After all, I recognize pain when I see it. Switching from my usual boisterous aka obnoxious voice, I went to a softer rendering of a krithi in Varali ragam. I really didn’t mean to put talam while singing but one thing lead to another and before you know it, my voice had risen to dangerous levels and my niece woke up to find me waving my hands in all directions and singing at ear drum-piercing decimals. When she looked around, she found that other motorists, after one look at me, were slinking away from us clearing the road ahead for our journey.


All except one. This guy was behind me for a while, I think. When I woke up from the coma of singing, I realized that he was tailgating me. Seriously? Tailgating me? I decided that I shall deal with it swiftly and with a vengeance. My niece was afraid now as I am notorious for my temper. ‘Chithi, what are going to do?” she asked in fear. My face contorted in fury, I looked at her and said “No one tailgates me and gets away with it. No one. (I have always wanted to say that.) This is how we deal with it. Watch and learn M”. And then I changed lanes and gave way to the other guy.


Yeah, that is how you deal with it. Now let me see how he tailgates me. That should teach him to not mess with the likes of me. Hah! :biggrin2: