Getting the nod

Published at Silver Birch Press


Straight through a red light, clip a beedi seller on the kerb with my wing mirror, pull out way too soon onto Colaba Causeway, horns everywhere, cows everywhere, indicate incorrectly then turn left instead of right at the Mahatma Gandhi fountain, stall on several technical points, examiner not happy.

Nod backwards at a bottle of Black Label boxed and wrapped on the rear seat of the Escort, all smiles, told to drive expressly every day so as to improve, pink chitty, copied 7-fold, in my hand, congratulations, sir, you are now legal on the roads of India.