The Rare Privilege

Author's note: I had written this in the 11th standard for my college magazine, so don't critcize it too much :). Ran across it right now and thought maybe it will breathe some life into our blog.

The thing that intrigued me most on my first day at office
was that the house that was given to me as my ‘quarters’ had
an unbelievably good driveway. I was so impressed with the
asphalt that I asked my assistant as to how this was
achieved. My assistant, a tall thin man in his forties with a
droop in his shoulders that comes with age, said, "I haven’t
the slightest idea, sir. The men at the public works
department look after the necessary details." I left the
matter at that and proceeded with my work for the day.

My work day was always hectic. Get up at seven in the
morning, get ready by eight and be at office by nine. Then it
was work by the tonne -- the usual thing that comes with a
salaried position as a public servant. There was one thing
though. A chauffer-driven car used to drive me from my home
to the office. Every day, the asphalt road always used to
catch my eye, "How do they keep it so smooth?" I used to ask
myself. But then the work at the office was always so
burdening that I forgot it till the end of the day when I
came back in the car. I was puzzled -- 'Can’t the public
works department keep all the roads so fine? In that case, we
wouldn’t have road problems.'

It was Sunday morning. I was sleeping leisurely, happy in the
thought that I did not have to go to office today. I was
lazing around when suddenly, I was awakened by a sharp knock
on the door. "Come in!" I said a little irritated, cursing
whoever that was at the door for ruining my well-earned
rest. "Sorry to wake you up, sir, but today you have to go to
visit the children at the spastics society. The people at the
society are eager for a loan for the new computer wing they
are planning to set up."

'Spastics society? What spastics society? Who scheduled this
meeting?' I thought. "Okay, give me twenty minutes." Is all I
said to Mr. Basu, my assistant, "And is Rampal here?" I asked
referring to my chauffeur. I liked to call people by their
names rather than their designations. This was okay since I
was boss now but in my yesteryears, when I was a junior to
many people, my habit caused me a lot of problems! "The
chauffeur is here," said Mr. Basu. Obviously, he did not like
my way of looking at people. But he was a nice sort of a
chap, really.

In twenty minutes, I was ready and inside the car. "Zara
jaldi chalo, Rampal,(Be quick, Rampal)" I said as I got into
the car. Mr. Basu came in through the other door. Rampal only
nodded, he was not a talkative kind of character like most of
the chauffeurs I had met earlier in my life, he only spoke
when necessary, and such times were rare. But at the wheel he
was courageous to the point of being defiant. He could zip
through any kind of traffic with the grace of a panther going
through tall grass to catch its prey. I was also informed
that he was also trained in evasive driving, but I did not
believe it, after all what would a chauffeur do in Delhi’s
overcrowded streets? Well, my thoughts were now on what the
meeting was about. I did not remember anything being
mentioned. That was when Mr. Basu spoke, "The visit is just
to finalize the project and to grant the money." "Yes but
can’t someone else go?" "Well, sir, to tell you the truth, it
is good for your image if you yourself go!" Sometimes I
wondered how Mr. Basu could do everything, from managing my
day to looking after my image at the same time. Darned
asphalt road. The road was once again on my mind. 'Well,
right now, all the roads in the world can go to hell as long
as the one that takes me to the Spastics Society is without
any hitch.' The visit went smoothly. I really liked the way
the teachers of the society wanted to teach the children with
the aid of computers. The project was a very good one and I
had no problem whatsoever in sanctioning the loan.

While coming back, I was still thinking of the novel way that
the teachers had devised to improve the life of the poor
little children... The rest of the drive was uneventful. When
we were close to the driveway, on impulse, I asked Rampal to
stop. Rampal did as ordered. I got out and before the
personnel in the police car could do anything, got into the
front seat even as I ushered Rampal into the seat at the
side. I asked Rampal, "It must be a good feeling to drive on
that road?" I said pointing to the driveway. Rampal just
shrugged. He didn’t know what to say. I started the engine,
depressed the clutch, put the car in gear, stepped on the
accelerator and let the clutch go. The car lurched forward
with a screech of the tyres. I entered the driveway at full
speed, honking the horn. It felt good driving a car on the
fine asphalt road. The asphalt road, the clean, well-kept
asphalt road. I think it came as a privilege to the Prime
Minister of the country.