Ever been caught in a jam,,,Enjoy the predicament

Jam jamboree

by K. Rajbir Deswal
I have no reason to disagree with Haryana Director-General of Police Ranjiv Dalal when he says he develops a “jet lag” after travelling(?) through the Delhi and Gurgaon traffic snarls, although I have been immensely benefited, having been caught up in these gridlocks, very frequently. And I gainsay, jams do help reduce stress in their own peculiar way.
You learn not to give a kneejerk reaction, at even listening to the news about a repentant Musharraf stepping down to allow himself being “judicially” dealt with, since your legs are always busy with the brake-and-clutch operations. Yes, you may give in to jumpstarts, and it is good for nursing ambition, and bolster your self-esteem.
I have even heard lovers say they met for the first time caught up in a jam. Their eyes met, at the same time when their vehicles “met”. And there was no looking back thereafter. Also there was no point, for nothing was visible except bonnets and windscreens. The reinforced stability in the lovers’ character stood reassured, besides a tendency to fall in line, for there was no “lane cutting” or “sidetracking” possible.
Driving through the melee of a traffic jam gives you a feeling as if you are driving a world-class vehicle. You can read a newspaper, plonked on the steering wheel itself, for it may not be your turn, to turn it for long. And you may enjoy the thrill of driving a car, with automatic transmission, since you do not need to jazz up the gear, and continue with the same, even after going five feet.
Road rage has become unthinkable for me, at least. I rather exchange smiles, with the one who hits my rear with a fender (no pun intended please); now look, how humble have I become. In fact some of us regular jam-jelled have really developed a bonding, as should be expected between “jam pals”. “Hi there! Still there? Wish you tortoise speed!” Zoom, vroom, zap and screech have lost all meaning for me, and I now like only a revved-up whirr, ghurr, dhum and pataak!
I have observed a change for the better, in people’s attitude, and now they give way to others, while caught up in a jam. The realisation dawning on them that the straggler has come thus far, and may go no further, is altogether a different issue.
I always take calls on my cell phone, telling the caller, “it really is a good time calling me now” without worrying for the prying eyes of a traffic constable, since he cannot be seen around, for as long as the line of sight travels — yes, and who said nothing travels in a traffic snarl.
The jams have come to afford a roaring business for beggars as also the vendors. Believe me, for I have seen many behind the wheel, patronising the favourites among them. Office-going Babus now proudly claim their files move faster and that experienced jam jockeys at least should not complain of red-tapism anymore.
I have found the jam- prone areas, to be crime- free stretches, for none can dare to execute a successful robbery, and find an escape route. You can jolly well leave your handbag by your side, on the car seat, with a windowpane wide open, even if it amounts to an open invitation, for being looted at leisure.
The jam-packed bounties have made me overcome my phobia of getting suffocated if, God forbid, a fire broke out and there was no escape for me. Obnoxious fumes? My foot! I now jam care for them! And many road users may tow the lane, when I say, “I enjoy the jam jamboree.” Do you?

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DID U DO IT.....?

Nosey Parker was snooping around as usual with his beak buried deep in the garbage when to his utter exhilaration he heard the cries in the sky, “Did ye du et — Did ye du et did did?” Nosey Parker looked up to shoot; I mean record in his camera, the exclusive bytes.

The Jungle Babbler, known for his intrusive, naughty and yarn-spinning habits, tweeted at the journo, winked at him and beckoned as if to give the official version. Taken aback, as if someone else had also picked up his exclusive scoop, the journo questioned the impish bird if he also heard the shrieks of, “Did you do it!”

The Babbler knew the anxiety of Nosey Parker and in furtherance of his innate endeavour to tease him he whispered something in the ears of the stringer. “Can you arrange an interview with her? Oh please don’t say no!” “Well, it happens almost daily. It’s not something unusual with her. It’s not at all which makes news, I mean the man-biting-the-dog sort of?” the Babbler tried to rubbish the reporting idea.

Nosey Parker insisted, “No dear, what after all was there in Gudiya, Farzana and Anara episodes? Still we had to drag these poor things out of their homes and present the “real picture” before the people in larger public interest, particularly when every journalist, howsoever incredible, had been doing it”.

“Oh yes, there you are. You followed the stories since everyone was (over) doing it. Well, there ees a point in that.” The Babbler muffled the “over” part and stressed the “is”. Again the tweet of “Did ye du et duet — did did” rented the open skies. Nosey Parker became restless when the Jungle Babbler grimaced turning his eyes away from the curious reporter.

The Babbler asked Nosey Parker to watch and record from a distance when he would be interviewing the victim of “Did you do it?” “Behenji, will you tell our audience how do you feel after going through the ordeal of ‘Did you do it’ since you have been tweeting for quite some time seeking to know the culprit?” The victim squeaked at him scornfully, “D,did ye du et?” “No, no behenji, I am a journalist. I don’t do myself. I simply fling the others’ doing in public-ehm-ehm, bird interest only!” The Babbler again sneered with his tongue firmly in his beak.

Having interviewed the “victim”, Nosey Parker rushed and pridefully presented the story to the Editor. Lo and behold, everything got washed out — video, audio and everything. The disgusted Editor gave good amount of birdshit to Nosey Parker who rushed back to look up the Jungle Babbler.

He overheard the naughty Babbler talking to the forgetful Lap Wing: “I knew that you as habit would forget the place of your laying eggs and then scream around as if someone had stolen them squeaking ‘Did you do it’, but this Nosey Parker fellow thought he had picked up the best of scoops.”

Having known this now, Nosey Parker asked them as if cheated, “But what happened to my recording?” Replied the Jungle Babbler, “Don’t you know we have beepers and jammers planted under our wings to ward off the recording done by the likes of you in larger bird interests.” They laughed to their guts content while Nosey Parker again buried his beak in the garbage.

This article was published in The Tribune on Oct 21, 2005.