Again it’s that time of the week, when I am in my room. I watched Top Gear, I stared enough on the walls and finally ended up asking them if the paint is sticking closely to the concrete. It was quietness, so I guess the paint and concrete are happy. I looked at the floor and it’s dirty. I need to pick up the broom but maybe later.
Exactly then I get a call. My shades (sunglasses) accidentally had broken apart and I had given it for repair. The last week was really tough cos at 48 degree Celsius, sunglasses are a necessity and not a luxury. They asked me if I am going to pick that up tonight?
Hell yeah, I am.
I hang up. I dial the garage where my prodigal son is resting in peace. I asked them if they were done with my car and magically, they said ‘Yes’.
Today must be a magical day. Things are getting mended.
I run to the sunglasses shop, get my glasses. Drive back home. I am still excited. I know it is the return of my prodigal son and not my glasses. I have been waiting for him for the past 23-24 days. Completely forgot how he even looks like. He was not living with prostitutes for sure, but he sure was drilling a hole in my wallet.
But alas like every father says, I also said to the garage guy, ‘ It’s time for a feast for my son was dead and he is alive now, he was lost but found.’
I can agree with the return of the prodigal son story that I read years back. Irrespective of whatever a son does, the parent(s) are bound to accept and adopt him back once again. Let me give you an even clearer example,
Tomorrow I go back to my mother and tell her, ‘Mother, I am a failure with two legs and two hands. I have dark tanned skin and not a single penny in my bank, I couldn’t buy a Suzuki Hayabusa yet and none of the girls in the town would go out with me, I had rode without a helmet for long in my early days and I started driving motorbikes at the age of 14. I watch Game of Thrones and I wear a skirt.’
Her reply most probably would be something like, ‘Son, I know you are a pathetic loser and you have a messed up credit card history. I know you couldn’t buy a BMW like your brother did or for that matter not even a Suzuki Alto. I know you were whine little a little girl every time you face some problem. Irrespective of all this, I still love you.’
Here I am my mother and my son is my son. Well tomorrow my prodigal son shall return and at the expense of my wallet, he shall feast before he comes back home. I have missed him and irrespective of whatever, I will still have him reinstated at any cost.
This also means bidding adieu to my loyal son who had been with me for this one month. He would call me an unjust man. I never gave him anything more than what I have given to my prodigal son. Yet he served me right. He was not demanding and he screamed luxury every time I even went near him. But alas the time has come to choose between both and I would still choose my prodigal son. They can never stay together and I still love my prodigal son much more than anything, for he completely devoid of anything cosmetics. His heart is pure and naturally aspirated. He doesn’t scare me with forced induction. Finally he is my son and my loyal son is an adopted one. 😦
The above story is a work of absolute gibberish and please don’t ask me why I did such a crime towards humanity.
- Prodigal son – my GTI
- Loyal son – Octavia vRS
- I, me – myself
- My Mother – Imaginary myself.