We ordered an Uber for an urgent long-distancejourney for 450 rupees and waited. Within three minutes, the vehicle arrived—a brand-new Toyota Innova Crysta. It braked right in front of the house. I asked the driver whether I should open the gate or if he would reverse. The driver was an elderly man. Realizing it was difficult to steer it inside, he suggested reversing. However, my mind warned that reversing at the start of a journey brings bad luck.
So, my wife and I got into the car and provided the PIN. It felt like the day the electricity meter reader was supposed to visit, so I had left the gate unlocked. My mind urged me, "Lock the gate. Even if the reader comes and goes, what do you lose?" My mind is often like that; it forewarns me of approaching troubles (the "axes"). Over the years, the times I suffered because of my own kindness, empathy, or leniency are too numerous to count.
The interior of the car was pleasantly cool. My wife sat in the back, while I took the front seat and buckled up. The ride was incredibly smooth. Without a single jerk or sway, the driver handled the car beautifully.
Admiring the steady drive, I asked, "Where is this car from? When did you buy it?"
"It has been six months, sir," he replied. "My wife and children are in America. I came to India for an urgent matter during the COVID-19 period. I couldn't return within forty-five days, and my visa got canceled. With no work here, I bought this new vehicle to run for Uber. When you booked, I accepted it. I used to have a prostate ailment, but I took Ayurvedic medicine, and it cured me completely. No issues now."
I observed him closely. He looked around sixty-five years old, carried a Latin Catholic look, and spoke in their distinct style. He was healthy and well-built. I asked how one joins Uber."Sir, there are no extraordinary criteria," he said. "The age of the car doesn't matter as long as its fitness, pollution certificate, and driver's license are up to date. The company conducts a strict background check on our character and history. Once you pass, they install the Uber app on your phone. One easily gets at least ten rides a day."
I then asked, "What is your profit from this 450-rupee ride that I booked?"
He explained enthusiastically, "Uber takes about eighty to one hundred rupees. The rest comes to me. Out of that, I have to manage fuel and car maintenance. But it is good, sir. I don't have to wait around for passengers. I can switch on the application whenever it suits me. I am accountable to no one, and I work entirely at my own convenience. Rides are guaranteed."
By then, we approached our destination. He brought the car to a stop more smoothly than an airplane landing. The road was heavily congested; it took us nearly 45 minutes to cover the distance due to the intense traffic.
I rarely take the words of strangers or people migrating from other districts at face value. When you meet someone and casually ask about their hometown—mentioning, for instance, that a Thrissur native lives near your house—they will immediately ask exactly where in Thrissur that person is from. Only then do you realize that what they consider a prime location is actually some remote, obscure corner.Similarly, during train journeys, when you ask people where they are from, they readily reply, "Thiruvananthapuram." But when you probe deeper into the exact locality, the reality emerges through their culture, lifestyle, and dialect. Places like Bonacaud, Vithura, Ponmudi, Kanjiramkulam, Machal, Olathanni, Kachani, Oyoor, or Ayoor are all technically Thiruvananthapuram, but they are vast distances apart in character.
Due to the busy schedule and the people I met at our destination, I couldn't check my phone. Alerts were coming in constantly, but since the phone was on silent, the notifications did not disturb me. However, after lunch, I checked my phone to look through the camera alerts. I wanted to see if the meter reader had come. Instead, I saw a white car pulled up right in front of my car gate. After a moment, a heavily built man, who looked like the driver, got out. He crept around, peeking near the adjacent houses, and finally stood in front of my main gate. He bore every hallmark of a seasoned thief.I suspected he was planning to break open the door, ransack the house for gold, load it into his car, and flee. I checked the timestamp; the notification had arrived 45 minutes ago. Had I seen it live, I could have triggered the siren, called the police emergency line, or questioned him directly through the speaker. But I missed the window. I wondered if my children had noticed the CCTV feed. A single moment of carelessness by family members is all it takes to lose young children forever, face a burglary, or have young girls assaulted and killed. You cannot trust anyone.To share a related incident: one night around 8:30 PM, a friend called me on WhatsApp. The BSNL 4G network was weak, so I walked over to the compound wall. There is a BSNL tower near a distant temple, and standing by the wall usually yields better call quality.As I stood there talking, I noticed a figure in the dim shadows nearby. He had hitched up his lungi inappropriately. Even in broad daylight, this was his usual attire. Every now and then, he flashed a torchlight onto his own body. I recognized him instantly. It became clear to me that he was targeting young girls walking by.
As I kept talking on the phone, I watched him. He was indulging in exhibitionism, flashing himself to catch the attention of women. He was a psychiatric patient in urgent need of medical treatment. I disconnected the call and went up to the terrace to confirm his identity; it was a neighbor. Let us leave that story aside for now and return to the car seen on the CCTV.
Holding my breath, I continued watching the recorded CCTV footage. The stranger from the car quietly pushed the gate open. He stepped into the compound, walked up to the windows, and checked for shoes to confirm the house was empty. He then went back and silently pushed the gates wide open.
He returned to his car and attempted to drive it into the property. Unless someone stands outside to guide the driver, steering a car into my courtyard is a monumental task—unless one has prior experience doing it at least a couple of times. A sudden brake failure or clutch malfunction would send the car crashing through my walls and into the neighboring gates. People always promise, "We will rebuild it, we will fix it for you." But none of it happens quickly. The lessons of experience tell me that until it is restored to its original state, your peace of mind is entirely shattered. Things never regain their original perfection.
I kept watching the video. He was maneuvering, twisting, and turning the car aggressively. The engine stalled twice inside the compound. After a struggle, he finally backed the car out, turned it around, and drove away.
News reports reveal that we should never allow strangers to park their cars or scooters in our compound even for ten minutes. They could be pursued by the police in connection with a criminal case or drug trafficking (like cannabis or MDMA). A stranger might view your house as a quick hiding spot to evade law enforcement. If your luck is down, that is more than enough to land you in a police station or court for the rest of your days, either as a witness or an alleged accomplice.
These ears have heard countless such stories and witnessed many tears. The law states that if an abandoned vehicle is found parked in your vicinity for more than two hours, it must be reported to the nearest police station. But once you report it, you get dragged into the mess, giving yourself endless running around to do.
Palayam Nizar Ahamed (Author)
Copyright ©allrights reserved
Palayam Nizar Ahamed (M.Nizar Ahamed) Writer| Journalist |Blogger| Poet| Editor-in-Chief | Flash News-Breaking News Bulletindaily |for investigative reports & editorial writings.
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Axes of Trouble *Part 2*Due to the busy schedule and the people I met at our destination, I couldn't check my phone. Alerts were coming in constantly, but since the phone was on silent, the notifications did not disturb me. However, after lunch, I checked my phone to look through the camera alerts. I wanted to see if the meter reader had come. Instead, I saw a white car pulled up right in front of my car gate. After a moment, a heavily built man, who looked like the driver, got out. He crept around, peeking near the adjacent houses, and finally stood in front of my main gate. He bore every hallmark of a seasoned thief.I suspected he was planning to break open the door, ransack the house for gold, load it into his car, and flee. I checked the timestamp; the notification had arrived 45 minutes ago. Had I seen it live, I could have triggered the siren, called the police emergency line, or questioned him directly through the speaker. But I missed the window. I wondered if my children had noticed the CCTV feed. A single moment of carelessness by family members is all it takes to lose young children forever, face a burglary, or have young girls assaulted and killed. You cannot trust anyone.To share a related incident: one night around 8:30 PM, a friend called me on WhatsApp. The BSNL 4G network was weak, so I walked over to the compound wall. There is a BSNL tower near a distant temple, and standing by the wall usually yields better call quality.As I stood there talking, I noticed a figure in the dim shadows nearby. He had hitched up his lungi inappropriately. Even in broad daylight, this was his usual attire. Every now and then, he flashed a torchlight onto his own body. I recognized him instantly. It became clear to me that he was targeting young girls walking by.As I kept talking on the phone, I watched him. He was indulging in exhibitionism, flashing himself to catch the attention of women. He was a psychiatric patient in urgent need of medical treatment. I disconnected the call and went up to the terrace to confirm his identity; it was a neighbor. Let us leave that story aside for now and return to the car seen on the CCTV.Holding my breath, I continued watching the recorded CCTV footage. The stranger from the car quietly pushed the gate open. He stepped into the compound, walked up to the windows, and checked for shoes to confirm the house was empty. He then went back and silently pushed the gates wide open.
He returned to his car and attempted to drive it into the property. Unless someone stands outside to guide the driver, steering a car into my courtyard is a monumental task—unless one has prior experience doing it at least a couple of times. A sudden brake failure or clutch malfunction would send the car crashing through my walls and into the neighboring gates. People always promise, "We will rebuild it, we will fix it for you." But none of it happens quickly. The lessons of experience tell me that until it is restored to its original state, your peace of mind is entirely shattered. Things never regain their original perfection.
I kept watching the video. He was maneuvering, twisting, and turning the car aggressively. The engine stalled twice inside the compound. After a struggle, he finally backed the car out, turned it around, and drove away. News reports reveal that we should never allow strangers to park their cars or scooters in our compound even for ten minutes. They could be pursued by the police in connection with a criminal case or drug trafficking (like cannabis or MDMA). A stranger might view your house as a quick hiding spot to evade law enforcement. If your luck is down, that is more than enough to land you in a police station or court for the rest of your days, either as a witness or an alleged accomplice.
These ears have heard countless such stories and witnessed many tears. The law states that if an abandoned vehicle is found parked in your vicinity for more than two hours, it must be reported to the nearest police station. But once you report it, you get dragged into the mess, giving yourself endless running around to do.
Palayam Nizar Ahamed (Author)
Copyright ©allrights reserved
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