I saw this video on Facebook and immediately started laughing and crying at the same time. My dad had a Premier Padmini for most of his life. His first car. A second hand car :) My dad has always known to drive and has been a fantastic driver. Such a good driver that as kids we used to sit at the back and yell out of the window as we passed vehicle after vehicle without any worries. We made sure Amma never drove because she wasn't as good as Appa. So much that when AB drove me first, I measured him against Appa's driving. I may disagree all I want with Appa, but I will never fault his driving or direction sense. Because he was fast and good. We've had our share of accidents and Appa's mellowed down a lot since then. But this video brought back such fantastic memories that totally make me the person I am. In many ways, love and admire Appa more than ever before. I fought with Appa last week and it hurts a lot though we don't agree on anything. My idealism is a joke to him and his ways of life are that of a cynical previous generation who don't know the power of youth, according to me. So be it. But I can't but thank my dad for the wonderful memories I have of growing up as his daughter who had umpteen rides in his car, of a daughter who saw him take random risks.
I still remember the time we fit in 11 people - all my athais, my cousins on a Golu-seeing round. Golu is a 'doll exhibition' sorta thing South Indians do during Navaratri. Women are invited home to see the dolls and eat some sundal. Of course, women do other things during this time. Like torture young girls like me to sing. Or, gossip about the person whose house they've just been to. Or, compare the size and grandeur of the dolls or the 'exhibition' per se. Every occasion to meet in a Tamil household is an occasion for gossip. This one occasion, all my cousins had come home and we went around Bangalore to see different people's dolls. That trip was unforgettable. After every stop where we stuffed ourselves with food, it'd be a pain to fit into the car :) Appa was the lone man driving us from house to house. Such fun!
The other time I remember with the car was how we used to make random trips to Tirupati in the car. Those days, you didn't need hajaar tickets and hajaar agents to make one trip. It was the time when Appa'd come home, have dinner late at night and Pati'd randomly crib about how Godless we were and how we haven't visited Tirupati. Then, Appa'd snap his fingers and we'd be on our way to Tirupati. 2 AM, 3 AM - you name it. And we'd be there really fast because Appa drove super fast. Those hair pin bends are fondly and scarily remembered now. And every single time the car would stop at a hairpin bend and we'd have to get down and push. Pushing the car was a matter of shame but at the same we wouldn't let go of our car. And why would we? Who else had a purple coloured car? :D
My sister thought the car was named after her. And the colour of the car was after black-currant ice cream- our favourite ice cream flavour that time. I don't know if Appa did it purposely or if it was a mistake or if my black-currant ice cream loving sisters demanded this, but it was a purple coloured car. When I grew up to be a teen, I cringed. I'd sit in the back seat and go down. I didn't want anyone to see me. Because every time it started, it made noise. It had to be 'primed.' And there was a carpet of yellow flowers on top of the car. We never bothered to clean it much. The car wasn't always purple. It was a boring white when Appa bought it. If I remember right, I think he bought the car after one of us was born. We decided to turn it into a funky colour sometime midway when it went for one of its umpteen repair jobs and it has never been the same since then!
Then of course, there was that St. Mark's restaurant trip that is etched in our memories. I was 15. Appa's business contacts or something related to business - somehow got us coupons to eat at St. Mark's. However rich or poor we were, we weren't #posh like that. So, off we went to eat at St. Mark's. All dressed up, looking absolutely hep. 3 girls and parents in one ugly car. The car, as old as it was, made weird noises. no AC, so windows were perpetually open. One of the windows didn't work and everything was manual. And there was the carpet of flowers on top of the car. Every time it was started, it made noise. And my dad drove with such flamboyance that we'd have to stop with a bang. I was 15 and very status conscious and hated my parents and their life. Yes. I cringed and sat low in the seat and wanted to get off at the gate (after which there is a long drive - something like the red carpet) to reach the entrance. But Appa had none of it. He was mad I wasn't proud of us. Anyway, we drove through the entrance and stopped at the entrance with a bang and I got out quickly and distanced myself this totally excited family and started up the stairs while a valet ran down to pick up the keys from Appa. I watched in horror as he tried to start the car and at all the flowers that had fallen on the clean driveway after we'd stopped the car with tremendous noise. He somehow managed to start and steer the car to the parking lot while we walked in grandly. While the experience at the hotel itself was hilarious with my parents and sisters cracking jokes at everything while I kept acting cool, I decided to walk to the gate to wait for the car than wait for the purple monstrosity to pick me up from the entrance. Tons of cute guys around, you know!
Now, as AB and I are trying to lead a 'slow' life with the jobs we aim to have, with the life we want to lead, with the children we want to raise, I wish I had that car. I wish I had a car that didn't look the 100 other ones on the street, a car that stopped and made so much noise that people turned to look at it, a car which accommodated 11 people and more, a car in which 3 kids grew up, puked and spill and do everything one doesn't do with a car, a car we pushed everywhere, a car which has seen us eat umpteen Akki Rotis at VV Puram, a car from which we listened to old Shammi hits, a car we were so ashamed of and yet so proud of. A car that allowed us to be different.
We sold the car sometime back. Maybe gave it away, even (not out of any generosity, but no one'd buy it!) We got ourselves a Wagon R and Appa struggled with it because there was no need to put any effort into driving with Wagon R. There was no aggressive pulling of the gear. There was no need to manually pull at the handle to bring up the window glass, a dire need to be careful because it was new and expensive. In many ways, I realise as I write this post, I'm like that. I moved from the US for many reasons. One of them, I think was because it was too convenient and there was no challenge. Not that I love the traffic here or the fact that I need to wash my own dishes here ;), but like Appa'd say, it's the challenge of it all that pushes me on. You may not get it. I didn't either for a long, long time.
Yes, I'm in India. At home. And I don't think I want to be anywhere else in the world.
