There's Something About Rachel

A.

B.













Long time, no C.

Ok, that’s enough of an apology to the three people I know for sure who missed the blog. Slappy, the Nag and Doc. So I’m back. And (armed with my trusty brand new laptop, just couldn’t resist mentioning it), hopefully this time I know it’s for real.

I’m going crazy just to let you know…
You’ll be amazed how much I love you so-o-o-o
Oh baby!!!

Alright, done digressing.

So, like every time I come back from Blogger Death, here’s a quick update on what’s going on in ze life.

(Bulleted, even, for a professional-looking post. All that’s missing is a clear plastic binder.)

• The ad agency I work for (yes, it’s still the same) sold out to its international partners. Then they gave us the money. Lots of it. So, I bought Rachel. A brand new (photos coming soon) fiery red Chevrolet Spark LS. Who’d have ever thought that my first car would be a Chevy? And that too, paid for in cash?
  
• Yes, I named her after Jennifer Aniston’s character in Friends. Spoilt, rich and sooooooooo sexy.
  
• Slappy and I are still together. Someone up there’s having a real laugh, I think.
  
• Slappy’s folks bought her a house in Colaba, ten minutes walk from home. Considering she’s shifted to an ad agency that believes in underpaying and overworking (more than most others, at least) the house means that we don’t feel like we’re in a long-distance relationship.
  
• Doc and the Nag got married.
  
• My sweetheart from college got married. Called me after a year’s gap to invite me to the wedding. In Calcutta. I didn’t go.
  
• Minty found a boyfriend. Pilot, I’ll call him.
  
• Sis found a job. She works with Legs. Yes, Legs. My close friend and first love from college, who’s now running her own production house. Touch wood, both seem happy.
  
• I asked Slappy to marry me. Formally, this time. On Republic Day, again. Ring-shing and everything. She said yes. How could she not, honestly?
  
• We told our folks. A little later, actually. Mine were very upset that I didn’t tell them about the ring. Sorry, Mom and Dad. Forgive an inexperienced, shy little bachcha.
  
• I now work on India’s number 1 tea brand, India’s number 2 bike brand and UK’s number 1 rice brand. Strange brew, but a happier brew.
  

So that’s the update, and now for the main story.

Rachel. A month after I bought her, some ass reversed into her while trying to park. Rachel was sitting in the parking lot, I was sitting in office. So I got the dent fixed, she looked as good as new.

Then one morning, a cab decided to brake right in front of me. I braked just in time – almost! The result: Rachel has a tiny bump in the licence plate. Not worth repairing, honestly. It’s the girl equivalent of the scar which makes a guy look rugged and macho and 300% masculine.

Do I need to mention that it wasn’t my fault?

Then some other ass, a taxi driver, slammed into a parked Rachel again. Big dent. This is a month before Rachel’s 6-month service, so I wait. Then we get everything fixed at one go.

I get the car back from the service, all gleaming spit and polish. Then the damn deck refuses to show me what it’s playing. Oh, it plays all right. Just that the display doesn’t light up. And the bumper’s creaking alarmingly.

Moral of the story? She’s jinxed. Somebody seems to envy her like crazy. After all, it seems like people are queuing up to bang (into?) her.

Right now, the bumper’s fixed, the stereo’s in the shop. And there’s a little unpainted, unpolished scratch on the front that’s trying really hard to hide Rachel from that evil eye.

After the first incident, I decided to try some local voodoo. I left that notch in the front bumper to ward off the buri nazar didn’t seem to work. And the traditional nimbu-mirchi is just an eyesore.

Now I’m looking for a shaman to do some mumbo-jumbo and dance around Rachel, hollering at the heavens. Contacts anyone?