Me and Prateek bought second hand scooter - scooter kept near hostel by Prateek - scooter got stolen -we went to police station - thulla looking at porn magazine - girl on cover of porn magazine very hot - wrote an FIR in hindi language - hindi language is our national language - hindi follows devnagari script - hindi is Prateek's mother tongue - me deviating from the story - where was I? - oh yes, we wrote FIR in hindi - cop called us bhanch** - told us he would let us know if they find scooter - we scrammed from police station
Part 2-
After coming back to our room, Prateek and I collapsed on our beds (which, FYI, were separate and in different sides of the room). We were physically and mentally tired from the ordeal and slept off without any further discussion of our 'precious'.
The enormity of the situation dawned on us the next day, when out of routine both of us came down and there was no conveyance, no scooter to take us to college. A couple of friends offered to give us a ride. The news of our scooter being stolen had spread like wildfire during the night, when those important calls between couples take place. Everyone came up to us and consoled us as if we had just found out that one of our kidneys had been taken away during a routine medical check-up.
"We are so sorry to hear about your scooter. How did it happen?", asked some people.
"Don't worry. It is sure to be found.", said some other people. A wise guy also said, "It happens", as if this was similar to a pigeon dropping his stuff on someone's head.
After recounting the story some hundred times, we decided it would be better if we go back home for the rest of the day.
In the evening, I went off for a swim with a couple of friends, while Prateek was sleeping. None of us knew how to actually swim, but the swimming club was open to people who could pay 50 bucks for a day. They didn't care who knew swimming and who didn't, as long as people were ready to pay up.
The next day, during lunch, a call came to Prateek. "We have found your scooter. Come and pick it up", said the caller, who identified himself as a cop from the 5 star police station we had lodged the complaint in.
Prateek called me up and off we went to our current favorite place in the world with a couple of friends. Mr. Porn was still there with his sweet ass magazine in front of him, or had he bought a new one, I wondered. I couldn't quite be sure, but what the hell, I thought, one naked girl is the same as another. There was another thulla, a tall lanky one, smoking a bidi and blowing out smoke circles as if trying to signal us that he had some information about our 'precious'. He looked like that character, Deepthroat, in the movie 'All the president's men'.
"Your scooter is with us. Do you want it?", he asked.
This was pretty strange, I thought. Why the fuck wouldn't we want our scooter. But some of our more worldly wise friends whispered that he wanted money, a bribe.
"Where did you find it?", my friend demanded, but the reaction of the cop to this arrogant question forced him to add a "Sir" with a softer voice.
The answer of the cop to the above question stunned the living daylights out of us. "It was in front of the hostel, all left open. Someone would have taken it. So, I brought it in", he replied sternly like a father scolds a son who leaves his toys out in the balcony.
Fuck you sonofabitch, madarch**, May you rot in hell, you impotent imbecile, motherfu****, were the thoughts in our head. But out aloud, we said, "Oh.....", as if we were thankful that that bastard had stolen our scooter. The cop had used his key to start our scooter and then he had ridden it all around the town, finally bringing it to the police station and was now demanding some money to return it back to us. I decided then and there that I would study for IPS, come back as his senior and kick the shit out of him, like they show in the movies.
After some negotiations, 700 bucks was the deal that was fixed to take back something which belonged to us and had been locked and parked inside the hostel complex. But at least we got back our ride. Our wonderful two-wheeler which we swore never to part with again.
And after giving the helpful cop the money he had asked for and thanking Mr. Porn, who I think wanted some time alone with the magazine, we turned the key and kick started the scooter. 0 - 50 kmph in under 15 secs, I think and then the dreaded sound.....splurt, spurt........we had hardly gone 500 m from the police station. The motherfu**** thulla had finished up all our petrol..........
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