The Mustang

Enzo Ferrari was a true genuis. May he rest in peace.

Year 1989:

However as a five year old, i had often wondered, where would the driver squeeze himself in my brother's racing car; the foot long red Ferrari. During those days, I had no idea what a formula one car looked like. All i was concerned about was, first; it could zoom past you with thundering sound if you happen to clap your hands, second: i didn't had one with me. The car belonged to my elder brother and was one of his prized possessions. A toy not be touched by anyone. My brother Zubin, never used to play with toys. His interest lay in reaping them apart to see what

lay beneath. How they worked, why they made sound, etc. his childhood curiosity got the best out of him and no doubt he became an engineer.

But this was a matter of concern to me. We both knew the toy had travelled all the way from Bombay to prove our dexterity. I was the unanimous choice for the gift. In fact for any gift. I was the one who cared, nurtured and maintained my toys before their sad demise. It was beyond my comprehension how it landed in his hands. I wanted it. I couldn't. I was jealous. No other toys seemed to come close towards the beauty and panache of the Red Ferrari.

But i had a mission to accomplish.

First came the clapping, then pulling, pleading, begging, crying, kicking and little skirmishes and terror attacks on my brother. Nothing seemed to daunt his will. The attacks continued, i was a shrewd diplomat, a great general and i knew the art of war. Atleast i thought so...The ongoing skirmishes, became full fledged war and just like any war, the result was devastating to both of us. Both of us were parted from the object of our desire. Soon enough, the Ferrari landed in the darkness of a towering locker. It was the graveyard for what our hearts desired. Both of us knew we wouldn't be seeing it in the near future.

The big iron doors were opened only during festive season. Out came the toys, but all eyes would be fixed on the " Taali mara car(Clapping car)". All my cousins, uncles and aunts would assemble in the living room. The red Fe

rrari would zoom past them and all would be delighted that finally the toy lay in able hands. Cheers and hurrays would fly by. And thus the lord of the Ferrari, the skilled driver would stand and bow down with reverence and style of his own. After the show, the toy would go back to the graveyard until the next Dussehra.

Four years later...

While roaming in the Bazaars of Berhampur, holding my Mom's hand, i came across a Toy shop. It didn't boast of a decent collection, but i was attracted to one particular toy, a small yellow convertible Mustang just over an inch in length. After lot of struggle and negotiation, promises of studying all night, i had my way. I returned with it, happy as a doodle. My heart skipping a few beats.I had the power of the wild horse in the palm of my hands. My first car. A Ford Mustang.
Since then we have been true buddies, we have travelled the world together. Skidding, maneuvering across mountain slopes, vast width of the river, the long road never ending. the mountains were steep at many places and there were occasional earthquakes. The mountains happened to be the creases made on the blanket that my dad wrapped while sleeping. It was as white as the snow. The open road, wind howling across my ears and my little dream pushing across the vast plains... (the bed). I kept pushing it to the limits, the tyres making a high pitched metallic sound. It travelled across the valleys and plains, on roads and forests alike. there were no cops giving tickets or stopping the yellow thunder from breaking the speed limits..It was the world to me. Freedom beyond my immediate surrounding. The man, with the untamed beast.

Ages have passed. Things have changed.. we have both grown up and wide. However those few moments of life never seems to end.

in the year 2008 my brother's dream of seeing the Red ferrari in action came true on a trip to Japan. The red ferrari looped lap after lap across him on the Suzuka race track. Roaring and thundering as minutes passed by... I think it may be one of the best moments of his life to see Michael Schumacher thunder past him.

As for me, the thought of riding the Mustang across the vast unconquered lands still rekindles a great hope. A hope to ride into freedom from my thoughts, my surrounding, my failures, my achievements, my days and nights.

Mustang...
One day i will be riding you.