CRAZY RICKSHAW DRIVER

STORY : CRAZY RICKSHAW DRIVER.

"Excuse me!" he shouted. He was there. Waiting. The scorching yellow Sun. Playing hide and seek. With those cotton-wool clouds. He was melting like an ice-cream by its heat. The time was flying by. He just had fifteen minutes. The rickshaw driver drove his rickshaw towards him and then gently applied the brakes.

The rickshaw was spacious, angular and had all the colors of a rainbow- Violet, Indigo, Blue, Green, Yellow, Orange and Red. The effect was crowned with Red and Yellow floral patterns. The material used was steel for the body and yellow rexine cloth for the top and the back. Fresh paint gave it a smooth and shiny texture. However, with those carbon emissions, the rickshaw made a tuk-tuk sound. It smelt of petrol. It was an expensive, superior quality rickshaw and seemed quite luxurious from the inside.

However, the rickshaw driver was the opposite. He was in his thirties, obese and short-heighted. He was as dirty as a pillow case. The nose was tapered like a mountain peak. The hair were central parting, long like noodles, greasy and had the same color as his complexion: chocolate brown. It seemed as if an atomic explosion had taken place in his hair. A brown cheroot and pan were in his mouth, and when he smiled, some of the black and yellow plagued teeth were revealed. His chocolaty whiskers and saliva inched down his chin like a river. A white dhoti, vest and black Peshawari chapel were worn by him. The driver stared at Peter, and then said in a squeaky voice, "Maara, kabhi aao na khushboo laga ke!" while twisting his whiskers with his hands, as if riding a motorcycle.

Frightened, Peter ran away. Then came another rickshaw. Unlike the first one, it was simple, yet impressive!

It was a cutie, two-seater electric tuk tuk.; small, samosa-shaped and as red as blood! The material used was steel for the body and black rexine cloth for top and the back. Smooth and glossy- brand new! Peter peered intently at it. It smelt of electric wires, no more carbon emissions and tuk tuk sounds!

The rickshaw driver was in his teen ages, muscular and tall. A "kaala chashma" and a white turban made him prominent. The complexion was fair, and the sides of his glossy bald head was visible (which was shiny than the Sun itself!) His head was having a see-saw, like a pendulum, left and right- like a monkey. Black and white piano tiles were revealed when he smiled. A black kurta shalwaar, and brown Peshawari chapel were worn by him.

"Hi! How much will you cost for dropping me at house # 12, street # 23, Jackson Colony?" asked Peter, looking at a slip on which the address was written.

"A dollar," replied the other in a squeaky voice.

Peter agreed and sat inside. The rickshaw was air-conditioned, amplified with decks on which an Arabic song was being played: " Ya Habibi..........." There was a fridge, free wifi, well-furnished desk, television and luxurious sofas which were as soft as a marshmallow! He felt as if he was sitting in a limousine.

And it was fast! The driver brought the engine to life and throttled with full acceleration! Sharp cuts, wheelie and near misses- a full heavy bike experience!

Peter took a sigh of relief as he reached his destination around ten minutes later. He paid the driver the cost he had demanded earlier.

"There you are, my Mom! I've finally come to meet you after a month of getting my job abroad. Five minutes to your birthday surprise," murmured Peter, holding a present, and looking at a woman standing in front of House # 12.

"Booo!" Peter yelled, as his watch struck twelve, grabbing the shoulders of his mother. He was surprised as she turned around. It was a total stranger! Peter apologized and dashed away.

"I think I've got the wrong address," thought Peter. He opened the slip again on which the address was written. It was street # 32 and not street # 23! He quickly rushed to grab another rickshaw.

But still he could not manage to reach his Mum as he was never heard of after his second rickshaw ride!