Just Another Civic...

The Indian couple walked out of the grocery store. They loaded the bags into their new blue Honda Civic. Closing the boot they got in. Switching on the ignition, they immediately turned the air conditioner on full blast. It was a hot day after all. As the cool air started blowing they felt good about their new car. All their friends had praised it. And the relatives back home must be so proud and a little jealous. Being an automatic it was so easy to drive too.
They drove out of the parking lot and onto the road. As they waited at the lights at the next crossing, she suddenly exclaimed, ‘Hey, that’s just like our car’. He looked ahead at the black Civic in front of him. Must be another Indian. He wondered why someone would buy that inauspicious colour. And it had a spoiler too! What a waste of money. The owner must be one of those extroverts who think no end of themselves. She broke his train of thoughts again, ‘Why does it say ‘Si’ on the car? Ours does not say that’. He was getting impatient. ‘Big deal. It’s just another Civic’ he mumbled. ‘Must have found that sticker somewhere. It’s similar to ours. In fact we have a better colour’. He had a good mind to drive next to it once the lights turned green just to show her it was the same.
Just then the lights changed. He saw the brake lights of the black car go off. And then he heard the sound. It was a mild growl as the car moved ahead. He stepped on the gas and followed. The growl got louder and in seconds changed to a high pitched whine. He stared at the rapidly diminishing black dot. He muttered something to her about unsafe drivers. The drive home was a quiet one.

It was not just another Civic. It was an Si.

Passion...

We all should have passion. About something. However minor or esoteric, every person should have something in their lives that makes them smile and gets their spirits up. Even in the worst of times. When times are good everyone does ok. But it’s when times are bad that people need a distraction. And that does not mean drinking oneself senseless or going into morbid depression. It means doing something that makes you feel the day is worth it.
I game, I read, I write and I drive. I tremendously enjoy each of these activities. And yet there are times when I am bored out of my mind. Hence I dread being the person who does not ‘feel’ for anything. For whom everything is passé or lame. For such people just exist. They don’t live. And that’s a real waste of the wonderful gift called life.