Geetanjali Krishna: Us and them

Late this Monday evening, we were returning from a close relative's funeral, exhausted and upset. Standing at a red light, we were suddenly jolted out of our seats by an impact.

What inevitably happens to most motorists sometime or the other on Delhi roads had happened to us. A car banged into the car behind us, which in turn rammed into the back of our car.

Rubbing our necks, which had been whiplashed in the accident, we got out of the car to check the damage, and to see who had caused it. It was a young boy, looking almost too young to legally drive.

"That's not a lot of damage," he drawled, "you guys can claim it from insurance." It was the final straw as far as we were concerned, coming as it did at the end of an emotionally draining day.

My brother, whose car we were in, saw red: "what do you mean, claim it from insurance? The accident was your fault, so you jolly well settle the damages!" said he.

The boy agreed it was his fault: "I was going straight and needed to change lanes just before the crossing, and didn't realise that there was a red light for people turning right," he explained. The motorist behind us was indignant: "you hit me with too much force for that story to be true! Anyway, I saw you talking on your cell phone seconds before you hit me!"

The boy was young, but what he lacked in age and driving skill, he made up with his cockiness. "So I said I was wrong. Why go on and on about it? You can easily claim insurance "" do that and let's all go our ways!"

He certainly knew how to get us fighting mad, so we ended up forcing him to stay while the police arrived on the scene. But before the cops came on the scene, a swanky Toyota pulled up. Four flunkies leapt out, while one passenger remained mysteriously seated.

"Sir is a senior IAS officer from the UP cadre, and that poor young boy you've been so unkindly badgering, is his son!" They said. One by one they exhorted us to not take the case up with the police.

When they realised that their entreaties were falling on deaf ears, the big man himself got out of the car and thundered towards us. "So you're the driver who braked suddenly at the crossing and caused this massive accident!" he said, pointing at my brother. Even his son had the grace to look surprised.

"I'll make sure you don't get a penny from anywhere!" he threatened, "you don't know how influential I am!" He whipped out his cell phone and declared he was going to call the concerned police officers. Things began looking unnecessarily ugly at that point, and then, the police arrived.

The inspector heard us out politely, ignoring the great man's wrathful comments.

He finally said, "Sir, it seems clear to me that your son caused the accident. And I'm sure that as a senior bureaucrat, you're aware that nobody's above the law."

He proceeded to file our complaint and we dispersed, amazed at the smooth firmness with which he dealt with the bureaucrat.

The errant young driver and his great father left huffily soon after, still not contrite. He was trying to get through to some minister, muttering something about how 'people like them' always made mountains of molehills.

As we finally made our way home, I realised that if that obnoxious father-son duo were 'people like us', then I was happy to be classified as 'people like them'.