It’s been close to two years into my life as an engineering student. I live a good 1000 miles from home and live a life of austerity which may even put the occasional Himalayan sage to shame. This has developed a deep sense of appreciation in me, appreciation for some of the finer details of life like washing machines, echo-free toilets and more importantly, private transport.

I don’t remember a time when I haven’t had the poster of a curvaceous super car vying for precious wall space with posters of other curvaceous stuff, mostly bikini clad. Super cars have been the perfect embodiment of style, speed and pure sex appeal. A good set of wheels guarantees to make the most mundane commute into an experience.

Corny as it may sound, but when your A to B commute includes more body fluid exchange than the wildest acts of passion, thoughts flow. And, so does sarcasm. We’ve all had our share, be it breaking into an impromptu lambada session with Sir Sweats-a-lot around tight bends on a bus or an uncalled for grinding session in a train with a group of people you’d never wish to see again. And while the likes of Mr. Lalu and Co. introduce yet another air-conditioned bus to promote public transport for sucking up to a group of leaf-munching Eco-mentalists, another petrol-head dies.

Not that he curls up or withers out of shame, but probably gets his head smashed in by the aforementioned bus driven by some passionate (read incompetent) driver, whose talents are better suited for Burnout Revenge. This, renders driving obsolete. Unless, you’re driving around in something like a Hummer which feels just like a bus complete with the lousy fuel economy and making you look like a snob while you’re at it. Add that to parking issues and fuel costs and Lalu and Co.s got a pretty solid reason to launch a series of garib rath buses, which doesn’t sound appealing. Not even slightly.

So till teleportation is commonplace, I shall rant on and on. Aimlessly.

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Rohan Cherian

Rohan Cherian

A lazier than thou, self confessed petrosexual.