<p>I still remember the first time I saw you. Mother had driven all the way to the boarding school so that I could take a peek at you. <br /><br /></p>.<p>You were the latest model in the Zen Maruti range, ravishing in a splendid shade of green. I fell in love with you instantly. But like it is with many relationships, my infatuation started to wean off with time. With every year that passed, there was a better and a faster four wheeler cruising the roads. <br /><br />Every time a friend’s family came to visit, I got to know about a new car that existed. Since I came from a single parent family, meeting my bloated tuition fee was itself a humongous task. I certainly couldn’t complain about your peeling paint and noisy brakes. More time elapsed and I entered college. I distinctly remember a meeting with an old friend from the school days. She told me that the minute she had seen you- the vintage beauty, in the parking lot, she knew I must be in the same college. <br /><br />If embarrassment could paint, I would have been the deepest scarlet red. It was as if a major portion of my identity was locked inside your fossilised existence. Thereafter, I did whatever I could to avoid a rendezvous with you. I began using buses for travelling back home (which was good in a way because it made me independent.) I insisted that my mother shouldn’t come and pick me up now that I was in college.<br /><br />Then somewhere during my middle years in the college, a transition started to set in. I came in touch with an English lecturer who was a brilliant academic and an excellent human being. Like it is with all great personalities, she not only shaped our intellect but also the way we thought. <br /><br />I discovered that she still drove around in a Maruti 800 despite her hefty pay cheque. A slow detangling began to occur between my identity and materialism. I made a new set of friends. Some of them sported the same clothes thrice a week. A certain sense of ease began to set in. My inner being witnessed an explosive growth in all aspects stunted hitherto. <br /><br />On my last day in the university, I still called up mother to tell her that she shouldn’t come and pick me. But that wasn’t because of you. I really didn’t want to bother her with a trip in the sweltering heat at her age.<br /><br />Very recently, after 18 years, we bought a new car. As I stand on the porch to bid you goodbye, let me tell you that you’ll be terribly missed. Long drives back to the boarding, exploring new places on your wheels, my first driving lesson, and the metamorphosis that you have come to symbolise in my life; it’s been an amazing journey. <br />Thank you for your selfless services. It’s been a ride of a lifetime.<br /></p>
<p>I still remember the first time I saw you. Mother had driven all the way to the boarding school so that I could take a peek at you. <br /><br /></p>.<p>You were the latest model in the Zen Maruti range, ravishing in a splendid shade of green. I fell in love with you instantly. But like it is with many relationships, my infatuation started to wean off with time. With every year that passed, there was a better and a faster four wheeler cruising the roads. <br /><br />Every time a friend’s family came to visit, I got to know about a new car that existed. Since I came from a single parent family, meeting my bloated tuition fee was itself a humongous task. I certainly couldn’t complain about your peeling paint and noisy brakes. More time elapsed and I entered college. I distinctly remember a meeting with an old friend from the school days. She told me that the minute she had seen you- the vintage beauty, in the parking lot, she knew I must be in the same college. <br /><br />If embarrassment could paint, I would have been the deepest scarlet red. It was as if a major portion of my identity was locked inside your fossilised existence. Thereafter, I did whatever I could to avoid a rendezvous with you. I began using buses for travelling back home (which was good in a way because it made me independent.) I insisted that my mother shouldn’t come and pick me up now that I was in college.<br /><br />Then somewhere during my middle years in the college, a transition started to set in. I came in touch with an English lecturer who was a brilliant academic and an excellent human being. Like it is with all great personalities, she not only shaped our intellect but also the way we thought. <br /><br />I discovered that she still drove around in a Maruti 800 despite her hefty pay cheque. A slow detangling began to occur between my identity and materialism. I made a new set of friends. Some of them sported the same clothes thrice a week. A certain sense of ease began to set in. My inner being witnessed an explosive growth in all aspects stunted hitherto. <br /><br />On my last day in the university, I still called up mother to tell her that she shouldn’t come and pick me. But that wasn’t because of you. I really didn’t want to bother her with a trip in the sweltering heat at her age.<br /><br />Very recently, after 18 years, we bought a new car. As I stand on the porch to bid you goodbye, let me tell you that you’ll be terribly missed. Long drives back to the boarding, exploring new places on your wheels, my first driving lesson, and the metamorphosis that you have come to symbolise in my life; it’s been an amazing journey. <br />Thank you for your selfless services. It’s been a ride of a lifetime.<br /></p>
