Because sometimes, murder is totally justified...

You know how sometimes people can be so amazingly thick headed, you feel like banging your head against the wall, or hoping that the person in front of you would spontaneously combust… only so that the yapping would cease?! Well, yeah something similar happened this morning (at fucking six in the morning… to be precise) when I went for my driving lessons…


The Manager: Hi… so you got your address proof?

Me: Yeah, you asked for the letter from office right? Got it…

Frowning Manager: Well, that’s only supportive documents, I’d need the main documents first

Me (frowning back): Well, you obviously didn’t tell me that before

(Yeah, like before I paid your friggin’ fees…)

Manager (sounding like he’s talking to a two- year old): Yes, but these are only supporting documents, I need the main documents.

Me (sighing... loudly): Yes, well I got that the first time… Anyways what documents?

Manager (looking smug… and I got no clue why): You know, all the main documents…

Me (dubious expression): ????

Mom (almost laughing out loud): Yeah well… What documents?!

Manager: You know, ration card or passport or driving license, ownership documents

Me: I don’t have those stuff

Manager (sounding kinda exasperated): You got a passport?

Me: Expired a year a back… reapplied.

Manager: A ration card?

Me: No

(Who the fuck actually has a ration card these days anyways…???!!!)

Manager: Your permanent address is?

Me: Mumbai

Manager: OK, so those house documents in your name?

Me: No

(Yeah, because they bought the place when I was friggin’ seventeen… Besides I won’t be able to afford a shack in Mumbai even if I sold all my clothes, belongings… or organs)

Mom (tired expression): There has to be a solution right?

Manager (and by now I’m positive he’s on drugs): You got a driver’s license?

Me (too speechless to say anything): ………….

Mom (giving one of her scare-you-shitless-to-death expressions): No… that’s why she plans on taking driving lessons.

Manager: OK, but I’m just telling you what documents the RTO requires

Mom (trying to maintain composure): Yeah, well… she doesn’t have those, you got another way out?

Manager (smiling… like, wtf?!): I understand, but I’m just telling you what the RTO requires.

Me (already plotting murder in my head): Yeah, well… I don’t have a passport, or ration card or driver’s ID (note the emphasis)

Manager (thoughtful expression): You doing CA right? They give you an ID?

Me (praying this thing would end soon): Yeah, but that’s for internship… and it’s got no address on it

(Positively drugged, obviously deaf) Manager: Alright, but do they give you an ID?

Me, Mom: NO.

Mom (and by now I’d already snapped his head off his neck… In my head): Is there a way out?

Manager (and I’m sure he’s deriving some sort of sadistic pleasure through this entire ordeal): Well, I’m just trying to make you understand that the RTO requires a passport or ration card or legal documents.

Me [Aside*]: #!$#$%^$%^%^%$@@%$^$%$!!!... OK, Mister… one more time, and I’d personally shove all your ‘legal documents’ up your uptight arse.

{*Shakespearean effect… Because I’m from ICSE/ISC, and I refuse to let go of the pedigree}

Mom (and by now I’m sure she’d totally help me kill him): OK now, you got a solution or not?

Sadistic-hedonistic-incarnation-of-Lucifer-of-a-Manager: Yes, but I’m just trying to explain…

Me (ready to stab him with my pen): Ok, look… I don’t have a passport. I don’t have a ration card. I don’t have house documents in my name. (And I fucking don’t have the patience for this anymore…)
Is. There. A. Way. Out

Manager (sudden flash of enlightenment): You can apply for a Post office Identity Card. That should do it.

Me, Mom (silent prayer): Thanks.

Manager (because obviously he wasn’t done yet): You got birth proof? Like a birth certificate?

Me (thankful that this shouldn’t be an issue): Yeah, sure

Manager: So, it’s got your birth date on it right? And does it have your name?

Me (______): Like obviously, what do you expec-

Mom: Umm, maybe we should start with the lessons now.

Well, some days… you just know you’re going to have a great day ahead.

By the way, Mom said the Mumbai RTO barely asked for all such documents when she got her license made… Reason #57899 why Mumbai is a way better place.

 (Courtesy... as usual... google)

PS: The car… which they gonna use to teach me how to drive… has no rear view mirror. And the seat belt is stuck, so you can’t use it. How the hell is this place “Government Recognised”?? Anyways, in case I die during one of my lessons, I’m leaving everything to C.R.Y.

And I want that Manager electrocuted.

Cheers!