My bike ran outta fuel. Luck had it happen very close to where I wanted to end up, or it would've ended as a serious chapter of struggle. But another variety of that luck (or other extreme?) had me crowded between a dozen "ladies of the night" - these ladies, out for their business of prostitution, escorted by their autorickshaw (hereafter "ricks") driver-cum-pimp. There were about 4 or 5 of such Ricks plying back-and-forth between the MG Metro Station and the U-turn (a coupla turns ahead).
It was only when I was solicited in the middle of my personal crisis with the bike (Oh how I have been gifted with miscalculation and how Gurgaon has greeted me to remind of that). I was breaking into a sweat, and was starting to enjoy the march forward looking grumbly, when a pretty lady came riding close, in the Ricks, and broke into banter "aaja main dhakka dekar le chalti hoooon" (let me push). Certainly, in this part of the world, we do work that way; Delhi has several auto-limb-powered vehicles plying in off-peak hours - carts being pushed by a leg sticking out from a bike, rickshaws being pushed by a leg sticking out from a bike, bikes being pushed by a leg sticking from on a bike, bikes being pushed by a leg sticking out from a Rick, Ricks being pushed by a leg sticking out from a Rick.
She was a fat woman - the fattest of the three in the Rick, - wearing something golden, and clearly the most confident of the three as well, with a seeming-penchant to find fat wallets through conversations and do the bidding for the skin. "Could I at least ask her to get me petrol," I asked to myself. (Her banter had gone askew in intention, I later reflected. ) Before I could answer the question, they scooted ahead.
Later I walked into them was when three of their Ricks had crowded shortly ahead of where my bike was parked when I walked across to the ATM and got meself some money. When I resumed, it was with walking into a situation where I was jammed in a conversation among the ladies. They were talking about which guys seem to be hanging around tonight. Apparently, they don't make it easy.
Last I came "across" (went past) them, was with a Rick at a deal. It was the same golden girl sticking her head out doing a crass seductive accent. The protocol goes - come about, go slow, approach glammy girls in glammy autos mobile in a shady manner, confirm and find a good deal, fix a deal, and... I didn't get to see the last part. Some mystery I'd rarely bother to pursue.
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