And so are animals. Just the other day, a local newspaper carried reports that dolphins are intelligent because they can be trained to plant magnetic mines on enemy battleships. I’m sorry; but that is not a sign of intelligence. It’s a sign of stupidity. And then you have elephants who, they say, never forget. Yes they do. [break]
That’s why they keep being poached at Chitwan. They forget that the long pointy thing being held by a guy with a pot belly and a horrible moustache at the other end is a gun.
When I was growing up, all of us wanted to drive fast. Driving fast, doing handbrake turns, bouncing the car by balancing the accelerator and the clutch and spinning the wheels when pulling away from the lights: none of these things had been proven to win a girl’s heart, but we knew from the way they giggled and made those ‘you’re stupid’ faces as we flew by that they loved us for it.
They thought we were real men. And this continued for quite some time until one of my best friends crashed into the Bagmati Bridge and had to spend a quiet night with a few other friends at you-know-where.
Sadly, the youth of today are deprived of this experience. Blame it on the traffic snarls that won’t allow a car to roll faster than 20 km/hr or policewomen checking bluebooks at Thapathali during the rush hour traffic.
What I’m most certain is that it’s not the health and safety that’s keeping the teenagers with the fancy cars from speeding. Nor is it those young role models on VH1 or MTV or whatever it’s called these days.
If youngsters really were listening to what their so-called role models had to say, they’d be riding on public vehicles and studying really hard. And the pubs in Thamel would be relatively empty. Sure-these days, you can download songs for free. But beer, cigarettes and iPods still cost money. So does petrol. Lots of it.
The real reason why youngsters don’t really drive fast any more is that with petrol at 97 bucks a litre, it’s simply too expensive. And it’s not just these kids.
These days the Formula One drivers go slowly too-they say-to preserve their tyres. But this is nonsense. It’s because the sponsors plastered all over the car cannot afford the fuel bills anymore. If you think 97 bucks for a litre of petrol is screwing with your monthly cash flow then surely you haven’t heard about ‘peak oil’.
Peak oil refers to the moment when global oil output reaches a maximum rate-measured in millions of barrels per day or billions of barrels per year and then goes into decline.
According to experts, and I do not mean the ones that appear in the lousy morning shows of half a dozen private owned Nepali channels-and we’re not just talking about conspiracy theories here-the world is on the brink of an economic crisis that could lead to, well, the end of life as we know it.
Probably by the time this article goes to the press, ‘peak oil’ may have happened in our country already for I can’t recall the last time the petrol pump at Gyaneshwar was giving away as many litres of petrol as one wanted, or could afford. What I distinctly remember is Dipendra Dai suggesting we stock up on fuel-to which I probably retorted rather smartly, like I usually do.
As of today, my car is almost out of fuel, and I’m very close to admitting Dipendra Dai was right after all.
However, partially to blame is the 41-year-old VW I drive to work which I must admit doesn’t really have a good mileage or a fuel sensor. The fuel indicator deviates with the landscape, tilting towards ‘F’ when the car goes downhill and ‘E’ as it climbs uphill.
However, I take solace in knowing that I’m not the only one suffering from ‘petromania’-a condition that continuously keeps one on the lookout for availability of petrol.
It begins as soon as you get up in the morning and scan the newspapers desperate for news that maybe, just this once; India has decided to let us have some more fuel without any conditions.
Like me, if you drive to work at 9 a.m. in the morning every day, you’ll notice there are roughly 6,000 vehicles (probably more or less; but I dare you to count) on their way to somewhere, from somewhere on the streets of Kathmandu. Now, imagine all these people walking.
That day isn’t far behind if we continue living our lives the way we do. But like most of the animals, we too are forgetful-forgetful of the hardships faced by others unless it affects us directly (remember the Basantpur rally when Kathmandu finally woke up after a week because that’s how long it took for us to get bored of being cooped up inside our homes) and things like fuel shortage don’t bother us unless the reserve lights on our fuel indicators begin blinking.
Having said that, my cousin brother has come home after two years and my wife suggests we drive him to Nagarkot for the weekend. And that’s how I choose to spend my last remaining drops of now-precious petrol. There may well be a shortage happening, but I choose to be forgetful.
Besides, contemporary life is a guilty pleasure, but a pleasure nonetheless.
Author’s note: At the time of going to the press, according to Dipendra Dai, the petrol pump at Maiti Devi is giving out petrol during the night, but there is a surcharge of 13 rupees per litre. FYI.
Related story
Jimmy Kimmel forgot to share Oscars news to family
_20191222200001.jpg)
-1200x560-1779450784.webp)
