SUNDAY POST FEB 22-28
SANJOY KUMAR SATPATHY
Possessing a car during the 70s was a sign of prosperity and aristocracy, a status symbol. Purusottam (Purusu) had become an officer and eligible for monthly car allowance. He was working with the Hindustan Steel Limited (HSL), which was later on changed to the more secular Steel Authority of India (SAIL). The loan from the company was not enough to purchase a new car due to heavy interest rates plus the amount was not good enough for a new car.
Usually officers purchased second-hand cars brought from other cities but Delhi cars were avoided due to manipulated documents and tempered odometer. Many brokers became rich during that period by cheating the officers but no one complained and blamed their bad luck. One senior officer had put up a notice on the walls of the administrative building regarding the sale of his ambassador car. There were only three brands of cars available in India during that time — Fiat, Ambassador and a two-door Standard Heralds. Purusottam was interested in an Ambassador because of his family size plus it used to come at a cheaper price than the Fiat. He was losing the car allowance of Rs 200 per month because he did not have one. For scooter or bike one would get Rs 75 a month. A friend of Purusu told him that he was a fool for not having a car. His logic was very simple. “Once a car is purchased by the employee with the company’s money, the car allowance is paid back to the company towards the loan so the petrol and maintenance cost is the owner’s but after a few years once the officer has paid back the loan amount the car would belong to him and the maintenance is provided by the company! It’s like frying a fish in fish oil.”
That argument was good enough for Purusu to change his mind and he decided to go for a car. On a Saturday evening Purusu went to have a look at the car which he had seen on the ‘Sale’ notice in the office building. That ambassador car was white in colour with good seat covers. The car papers were in order. He had taken a driver-cum-mechanic with him for inspection of the car and went for a test drive. After driving the car a few miles the mechanic told Purusu that it was in excellent condition and he should purchase it at once. After discussion with the car owner a price was negotiated and finalised. Next day Purusu came with the cheque and cash and paid the final settled amount to the car owner and took the necessary papers from him. The owner handed over the no objection certificate for transfer of ownership of the car for the RTO. Purusu was offered tea and sweets by the beautiful wife of the car owner. She along with her daughter cried inconsolably for the car. They expressed their love for the vehicle and did not want to part with it and would not like the car to go out of their garage. That separation cry from the mother and daughter and the moist eyes of the officer impressed Purusu so much that he was sure he had got a jackpot. The driver brought the car and kept it inside the newly-built asbestos garage. Now, Purusottam was the proud owner of that white ambassador car — his family’s first.
It took him a week to learn driving from the same fellow who recommended the vehicle. There were no driving schools but friends taught him how to drive a four-wheeler. After a month or so the car started giving problems and at the crunch time it would fail to start or stop midway. Lots of money was spent for repair work which was but natural for a second-hand car, the driver said. Initially, Purus’s wife and children would push the car, but later they refused to board the car and preferred to walk or hire a rickshaw. Even the neighbours started to run away when they spotted any white ambassador on the road. The car was taken to the famous garage of Rourkela where the chief mechanic told Purusu that he had been cheated and that the mechanic whom he took for the inspection of the car was actually a car-selling agent, a broker who would get a percentage from the previous owner. Lastly, Purusu put up a ‘sale notice’ in the same place where his ex-car owner had pasted it. One Punjabi worker who had become an officer after promotion was interested in a white ambassador car. This time Purusu had instructed his wife and children to cry as much as possible before the prospective buyer when he comes home to inspect the car. The car which was purchased for Rs 18,000 was sold off for Rs 20,000. A relaxed and relieved Purusu took his family for a dinner party in the famous Standard Restaurant of Rourkela that evening.
A few weeks passed by and Purusottam was taking the help of his friend Bikram for going to the steel plant for his duty. Purusu was coming home after ‘A’ shift duty on his friend’s fantabulous scooter as a pinion rider. That was a summer month and the Rourkela heat plus the steel plant-radiated hot air was pushing the mercury northwards. Purusu covered his face with his handkerchief and shouted to his friend Bikram, “Don’t ask questions, drive straight, no left turn.”
Bikram was confused because the left turn road was the road towards their residence but his friend had asked him to drive straight, why?
“Now, stop.” The Fantabulous was stopped at a distance on the roadside under a tree after they crossed that left turn road. “Did you see one huge sardarjee on the roadside with half of the car parts on the road?”
“Yes” Bikram replied.
“Had you stopped the scooter there, we would have been butchered. He is an ex-Asian gold medalist boxer.”A breathless Purusu said.
“But why he should thrash us? Where is our fault?”Bikram was curious to know.
“It seems I have to leave Rourkela for a few weeks. That car was sold by me to that boxer only a week back,” Purusu said as the fantabulous scooter started its homeward journey.
