The Green Fiat

“Taxi.”
Sumeet shouted at a passing black-and-yellow Fiat, the trademark Mumbai taxi.
The cab drove right past him.

“Stop.”
He shook his fist. “Stupid fucking taxis.”

“Chill
man, maybe that guy is done for the day.” His buddy Prakash said.

“Yeah,
we’ll get another one.” Naveen agreed.

Sumeet
scowled and muttered to himself. He pushed back his curly locks of hair, which
he hadn’t cut or even combed for months. A few minutes later, they found a taxi.

“Man,
I’m exhausted.” Prakash said, as he sunk into the back seat. Clean-shaven and
with a military-length haircut, he was the shortest of the three. “These
evening tution classes kill me.”

“Welcome
to second semester Engineering.” Naveen said. The thinnest of the three, he
ducked his six-foot tall frame into the front seat. “Life is gonna be like that
now.” He toyed with the dial of his brand new Titan watch.

Sumeet,
the most muscular of the three, bustled into the back seat, and slammed the
door shut. “Napeansea Road.”

There
was traffic in Bandra, even at eight in the evening. A cacophony of car horns
complimented the smell of exhaust fumes. They stopped at a red light,
next to an occupied rickshaw.

“Fuck
you,” Sumeet yelled at the rickshaw, for no apparent reason.

“What
happened?” Naveen asked.

“Fuck
everyone.” Sumeet glared outside.

“What’s
with him?” Naveen asked Prakash this time.

Prakash
rolled his eyes. “You know, the usual.”

“Girl
trouble?” Naveen said.

“You
know that babe Priya?” Prakash said. “Our man has a crush on her.”

Naveen
nodded. He removed his rectangular-framed spectacles and wiped them. “She is
quite hot.”

“Priya
is just a bitch.” Sumeet said.

“Ooooh,
bahut yaarana lagta hai,” Prakash
grinned. Naveen laughed.

“Shut
up,” Sumeet growled. “She doesn’t return my calls. Did you see how she ignored
me in class today?”

“Man,
forget about her.” Prakash said. “She’s not worth it.”

“Fuck
her.” Sumeet said. “Fuck them all.”

At
the next signal, Sumeet again cursed at nearby cars.

“Take
it easy.” Naveen said. “Why abuse random people?”

Sumeet
ignored him. He turned to a green Fiat, which had a driver and one passenger. “Fuck
you’ll, haraams.” He flipped his
middle finger at them. “Bhen Chod”

Naveen
shook his head. He rolled his window down for air, with his elbow sticking out.
Their taxi drove on, and Sumeet abused away to his heart’s content. They were
halfway home when Prakash turned around and looked behind. He did this a few
times in quick succession. “You know what? That green Fiat our man abused is
following us.”

“No
way, man.” Naveen dismissed the notion. “That was ten minutes ago. They can’t
have followed us all the way.”

“Yeah,”
Sumeet said. “Why would they do that?”

“Look,
I don’t know why and shit,” Prakash said. “All I know is that two cars behind
us, I see a green Fiat that looks exactly same.”

Naveen
craned his neck. “I don’t see it.”

Sumeet
looked around. “Yeah, I don’t see it too.”

“Wait,”
Sumeet paused. “Actually, maybe you’re right. I think it’s in the left lane.”

Naveen
leaned outside. “What you guys talking about? Where is…”

A
screech of tires on concrete cut him off. A Fiat pulled alongside them, green
like a leaf. From the front seat, a pair of bloodshot red eyes stared at them,
without blinking. The face had a thick beard and the shoulders were the widest
that Sumeet had ever seen. The man looked like Sanjay Dutt’s gangster character
in the movie Vaastav.

Sumeet
felt his pulse rate increase. Naveen pulled himself inside the cab. His face
had gone white. Prakash shrunk lower into the back seat.

“Stop
the car ahead.” The red eyes never left them as the man said this. It was a
command, not a request.

Their
cabbie looked across at the green Fiat. Without a word, he pulled the taxi over.

In
a flash, the back seat door of their taxi flung open. Outside stood Mr. Red
Eyes. Sumeet felt black sandals strike his chest with full force.

“Aaarghhh.”
Sumeet screamed. Mr. Red Eyes kicked him again.

“Who
you calling bhen chod?” Mr. Red Eyes
asked. He grabbed Sumeet’s t-shirt and hauled him outside. He brought his right
hand up and slapped Sumeet’s face with the back of his palm. It was the best executed
backhand Sumeet had seen in all his years of tennis, complete with back swing
and follow through.

Sumeet
tasted his own blood. His cheeks burned like a kitchen stove. He brought his
hands together. “Please bhaiya, sorry.”

“Take
him,” Mr. Red Eyes told the driver of the green Fiat. A stocky man with a twisted
frown pushed Sumeet into the back seat of the Fiat.

All
this while, Naveen had not moved a muscle. His limbs were frozen stiff as he
watched the scene unfold. Mr. Red Eyes stood in front of him. A heavy hand
smacked the right side of his face. Naveen yelped and held his face. It was
the forehand slap this time.

“Please,”
Naveen joined his hands in prayer. Mr. Red Eyes took no notice, caught Naveen’s
t-shirt and jerked it upwards. His neck struck against the car door. His new watch
hit the door handle, its dial smashed. Mr. Red Eyes did this again. And again.

Naveen
moaned. “Please stop.” The searing pain in his neck was becoming unbearable. An
open palm smacked his face. His glasses flew off, and hit the door. Naveen saw
his frame broken into two pieces. One lens had come off, cracked.

“What
you gesturing at us, ha?” Mr. Red Eyes told Naveen, sticking his elbow outward.

“I…I…I
was just sitting,” Naveen stammered. Mr. Red Eyes slapped him again.

Naveen
cried out. His eyes were on the verge of tears. “Please let me go, please, please.”

Mr.
Red Eyes turned to Prakash, who cowered in the back seat, with his eyes were
open wide and his jaw dropped down. He kicked Prakash in the shins.

 “Owwww” Prakash reacted, clutching his foot.
The black sandals thumped against his mid-riff. His face contorted in agony.

“Please
stop, bhiaya.” Sumeet said, from the back seat of the green Fiat.

The
Fiat driver glared at him. “Why did you’ll have to abuse like that?” He pointed
at Mr. Red Eyes. “You pissed him off.”

“Please
bhaiya, we are just kids.” Sumeet said.

The
driver didn’t respond. His eyes had a glint of sympathy. Mr. Red Eyes slapped
Prakash with a backhand, leaving him crouched on the floor.

The
driver asked Sumeet, “How old are you’ll?”

“We
are in first year of college,” Sumeet replied.

“How
did you’ll college kids have such nerve? What is wrong with you’ll?” The driver
shook his head.

“Sorry
bhaiya, we didn’t know what we were doing.” Sumeet said. “We are small kids.”
Sumeet touched his own face. A tooth of his had come loose. He watched his two
friends get beaten for no fault of theirs. He felt a twinge of guilt. Damn that
Priya. This was her fault.

“Please
bhaiya,” Sumeet pleaded. “It will never happen again. We are very sorry.”

The
driver looked at him with a penetrating gaze.

Mr.
Red Eyes landed another blow, this time to Prakash’s thighs. Prakash didn’t
have the energy to even scream. He remained down and waited, like a lamb to be
slaughtered.

“Please
bhaiya,” Sumeet persisted. “Please leave us, we are small kids.”

The
driver looked at him, and at the faces of Prakash and Naveen.

“Ok,
that’s enough.” He nudged his passenger, Mr. Red Eyes. But, Mr. Red Eyes
brushed him off and planted a backhand slap on Naveen, who didn’t make a sound.

The
driver held Mr. Red Eyes arms. “Ok, stop now. They are kids. You already hurt
them enough.” His voice had an undertone of reproach.

Mr.
Red Eyes glared back at the driver. He looked at the boys, and then at the
driver again. He nodded. “Let’s go.”

Sumeet
was shoved back into the cab. The green Fiat started up and disappeared as
quickly as it had come.

The
three friends sat in silence, as their taxi drove ahead. Prakash rubbed
different parts of his body. Naveen bent down to retrieve his broken glasses.

“Are…Are
you guys alright?” Sumeet managed to say.

“Do
we look alright?” Naveen responded, not hiding his sarcasm.

“How’s
your neck?” Sumeet gently touched Naveen’s neck. “I’m really sorry this
happened.”

“Why
the hell did you have to abuse strangers like that?” Naveen said.

“I
don’t know,” Sumeet leaned back. “I don’t know what got into me. I was just frustrated.
I’m really, really sorry.”

Naveen
massaged his neck. “I think I’m just bruised. I’ll live.”

“You
okay, Prakash?” Sumeet put a hand on his buddy’s shoulder.

“I…I
guess so.” Prakash said.  

“My
glasses are smashed.” Naveen said. “Also my watch is cracked.”

“We’ll
get it fixed tomorrow,” Sumeet said. He noticed that his own t-shirt was torn. “I’ll
pay for everything.”

“No
man, don’t worry.” Naveen waved him off.

 “You’ll be fine.” Sumeet said, trying to sound
reassuring. “We’ll all be fine.”

Sumeet
couldn’t shake off the image of the bloodshot eyes. The moment he had seen
those eyes, he had known they were in trouble.

They
dropped Naveen off first. He lumbered out of the car. “I guess we should be
thankful.”

“Thankful?”
Sumeet asked.

“Yeah,
we could have been killed. We got off easy.”

“Yup,”
Sumeet agreed. “Take care, man. See you tomorrow.”

Their
wounds healed, but Sumeet had nightmares about that night. In the years that
followed, the three of them rarely spoke of the incident. But whenever Sumeet
saw a green Fiat, a shiver went down his spine.