Saturday, July 25, 2009
Pony - - Kripa Nidhi


At a ‘Cars of the future’ seminar for seniors

standing at the lectern, I roll the slides out

while a laser pointer dances on the blueprint.

‘The best brains of the industry present,’ I shout,

‘the car of tomorrow, Ladies and gentlemen!’

‘This baby senses lane dividers,’ I tell them, ‘reads

traffic lights, sees obstacles in front, adjusts speed

steps on the brake and negotiates turns when it needs.


Of my audience, the lady with horn-rimmed glasses

twitching on her nose, in the front row of the seminar

seems the most mesmerized. ‘It won’t be long,’ I add,

‘before you can put your great-grandchild in your car,

and tell it to take your precious to her school. Hearing

your voice, this baby will safely complete the mission

driverless.’ “What’s more,” I conclude with a flourish,

“you won’t believe how low it is on carbon emission.”


After the talk, I watch the lady - glasses and all -

standing in line, waiting her turn to shake my hand;

and I braze to be embarrassed by fawning words.

“That was neat,” she says when she gets to me. “And

it reminded me of my childhood. In the mornings,

my dad would seat me on our pony, foot in the stirrup,

and tell her to take me to school, and she would. And only

the horse-poop – so good for our farm- to clean up.”

 
posted by Kripa Nidhi at 11:14 AM | Permalink | 1 comments