Wings, with Strings Attached

by Amrit Paul and Srijon Mukherjee

It was 6:30 when we reached Gyan Manch. The play was supposed to start at 6. And as the dog-ate-my-homework excuse goes, the-Uber-got-us-late. More specifically, the-driver-got-us-late. It wasn’t his fault either. This was Amit’s first day, and we, his 18th ride.

His average rating was 2.8 stars.

​We helped him navigate. He was a Catholic school’s dream - well dressed, well behaved, listened intently without questioning. He almost drove into a petrol pump to our left, instead of the road to our left, just because we said ‘left.’ (Jesus take the wheel, amirite?) We wondered what other orders he would follow without questioning.

“Amit, drive backwards”,

“Amit, go past 120kmph”,

“Amit, end my suffering”.  But it was his first day, so that would’ve been too much to ask. 

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