A Providential Irony

I was stuck up in a road jam in Kolkata when she came up to me asking for a lift on my bike. I could not refuse, though, I was grimly aware of what women folk are capable of doing to simpletons like me. She perched on my bike and asked me to start the bike. I was surprised. "The road is jammed. How can we move forward if the jam does not clear?" I asked. "Never mind the jam", she said, "You just start and follow my directions. You will also reach your destination fast", she retorted. I started the engine and engaged the first gear, depressing the clutch lever and holding it in place, ready to move. "Steer around and go backward", she instructed. I turned my bike maneuvering through the multitude of other vehicles cursing me all the way. However, with a lady riding pillion behind, nobody could pronounce expletives as would have been the case if she wasn't there. A path materialized from nowhere as bikers and cars made way for us. Very soon I was in top gear moving with speed against the immobile traffic. As I crossed the jam from the opposite direction of my usual path, I realized that my companion had given me a reprieve from the breathlessness that the jam had given me for the last fifteen minutes. However, I was a little bit nervous about what lay next as I was quickly moving in a route opposite to that of my destination.

"Turn left", she said, as we were nearing a four-way crossing. I followed her advice and ended up in a very narrow lane, carefully navigating my bike as potholes lay strewn all along the road. I reduced the speed as it was getting more and more difficult to avoid the potholes. After about an hour's ride, she asked me to turn left. This time the road was better, but, something struck me as odd. The houses beside the road gave me an eerie feeling, for they closely resembled a red light area. As I was looking this way and that, she told me to concentrate on the road ahead as darkness had descended. When I switched on the headlight of my bike, my worst thoughts seemed to materialize. Women and girls were standing in front of most of the houses clad in provocative dresses, while some men, whom I reckoned as pimps, moved about from one house to another. I started trembling on realizing where I was and then began to recall what dress my companion was wearing. She probably guessed my thoughts, for, her next utterance was clearly an indication in that direction. "This is a red light area", she said, "and you are my client today. Now, just go on doing what I say". It felt more like an order that a hook. I was a stranger to this part of life and began cursing my fate for having given her a ride on my bike.

I began thinking of an escape route when I knew that my fate was in her hands, as she could do anything to extract money from me. Even police wouldn't help me as she could easily prove before them that I myself had asked for her services. My thoughts were running fast, but, no solution seemed to be coming up. Finally, the road turned rightwards into a lane and as I entered it I knew I was trapped, for the lane ended in front of a building and I couldn't even consider toppling her over and making a dash for escape. "Stop!" she said, and I obeyed. She alighted from my bike and asked me to wait, while she entered the building through the front door. I was waiting impatiently as I was thinking of what she would ask me to do next. She appeared in about ten minutes and a stout man followed her coming directly towards me. I had started perspiring in apprehension as I felt my manliness and courage giving away at the same time. I was only staring at them as they approached me.

"You come with me", she said, "and give your bike to Gora". Gora was probably the name of the pimp that accompanied her. I was gripped with so much fear that I could not utter a single word of protest. I simply followed her after handing over my bike to Gora. We entered the building through a narrow door to the extreme right. We passed a narrow, dimly lit, almost empty corridor, and emerged outside the building. "Gora is bringing your bike", she said, "and you go along this way", as she pointed her finger at a narrow road in front of us. I was trying to guess what she was up to when she spoke again. "I am a hooker by profession and this is a brothel", she informed, "and I was getting late for my evening client. So, I had to take a ride with you. But, relax! You are not my client. O.K.? I only joked then". I was dumb-struck. "Here Gora has brought your bike. You couldn't have brought it through the building. Now go ahead and reach home earlier than all those fools there on the road who might still be caught in that jam", she said and turned towards the building. I took the bike from Gora and sat on it. When I looked behind, both Gora and the lady had entered the building. I thanked my stars and rode my bike home.