Soulmate

I always thought that you and I were very similar. Quiet, unassuming, and rather non-descript. Not flashy or glamorous. Sober, steady, and loyal. Affectionate – 

Sorry, did I go a little overboard there? I know you’d like to be thought of as this engineering genius, with an unemotional brain filled with mechanical things. 

But I think you’re wonderful! I - adore you.

We’ve been going out for eleven years now. In this age of make-and-break, use-and-throw, isn’t that a long time? People want to know how we’re still together. “Why?” they ask.

“What is it with you and…?”

“Why are you with such an old…?”

“Do you really love…?”

Really? Don’t people make a permanent place in their hearts anymore? Is there no place for sentiment in today’s world?!

In our early days together, when we went for a drive, you were ever-patient with me, the rookie driver.  There were a couple of occasions when I made a judgement error and scraped against a parked vehicle, scratching our door. But you never complained. And do you remember that occasion when we were quietly waiting at a signal, and a taxi with a carload of people bumped into us from behind and dented the number-plate? I was miserable, I ranted and raved, but not a sound came from you!

In the pouring rain, when the streets were flooded, I’ve nervously manoeuvred through potholes and muddy water, but you’ve always given me courage. You’ve been my pillar of strength. While driving home late from work, I’ve always felt safe even though we’ve sometimes passed drunkards loitering on the roads. 

How could I be afraid when I was with you, my Knight in Shining Armour? 

And what have you not done for the family? Do you remember that morning in the last few months of Father’s life, when he went out for a walk and it suddenly started raining ten minutes after he’d started? I pulled out the car keys and we rushed off in search of him. I almost panicked when we couldn’t see him anywhere along his usual route and when we finally found him taking shelter in a stranger’s verandah, I was so relieved that I scolded him for going out alone! 

Father understood my concern and smiled apologetically.  And you were patient with me too - I had left the motor running when I nipped out to bring Father in, but you didn’t mind, you were so calm throughout! And I was grateful that you were there to help me find Father and bring him home safe.

For several years after Father died, I often cried while driving to work - any ambulance speeding by with siren wailing could set me off. But you understood. You never thought I was crazy for talking to my father’s spirit. 

I’ve prayed aloud when sad or worried, and I’ve sung songs in a joyous mood. You never mocked me for the former nor corrected me when I sang off-key or got the lyrics wrong. 

You’ve been my best friend, a shoulder I’ve always leaned on. What would I have done without you?!

As my boy grew into a young man, you’ve been a great companion to him too. The two of you have gone for long drives together, sometimes for an entire day, and he’s always come back in good cheer after spending time with you. As for Mother, she got special treatment – you always let her ride shotgun! 

Doctor visits, shopping expeditions, catching the college bus… What have you not done for us?!

But now, sadly, the time has come to say goodbye. I don’t want to leave you – it’s like leaving a piece of my heart behind! 

But what choice do I have? I’m now setting out on a journey, taking a new path in my life, and I cannot take you where I’m going - can you understand that? 

Will you ever be able to forgive me?

Heavy-hearted and teary-eyed, I take my leave, but I hope you know that you will always be my first love.

For, although the relentless wheels of time will keep turning, and who knows, one day, I might own a bigger car - maybe even one that’s shinier and more sophisticated... Perhaps gear-less, with power steering, tube-less tyres, safety cushions, and who knows what other automotive marvels - nothing can replace you.  

My Silver Knight. My Guardian Angel. My beloved Maruti 800.