If sufficient time has gone by after a horrifying incident, does it qualify as dark humour? Brief context: Visit to Okhla Bird Sanctuary for bird watching. Urgent time bound business in another part of Delhi. Forced to excuse myself from the group. Travel from Okhla Bird Sanctuary, Point A to Point B alone. Now, Point A had two exits. One 1.5 kilometres walking and the other 2 kilometres walking to the nearest means of transport. I still regret the decision I made at the time. I chose the shorter one. Should not have used math at this point in my life. Never thought I’d say this.
So, basically the entire 1.5 kilometres was just an extremely shady, nerve-wracking path of solitude, with random people just appearing occasionally on the path and disappearing enigmatically. Now this path was an ideal setting for a Savdhaan India or a Crime Patrol episode. It had a huge metal wire mesh on one side, beyond which where some huts and mostly dark terrifying foliage. The other side was absolute wilderness. It even had a freaking tunnel. Which decent street do you know that has freaking tunnel? Isn’t this where every wrong thing happens? I swear, I was expecting Anoop Soni to jump out of the bushes, strike his fingertips touching at a 60-degree angle pose and say, “Akhir kya hone wala tha Swasti ke saath? Aaisi kya majboori thi ki usne cab nahi bulai? Jaannege iss chotte se break ke baad.” Was I about to cry? Yes. Did I? No. At least not externally. Why did I not turn around? Well then, I had to retrace my path through the gali straight out of a thriller movie and then walk another 2 kilometres. Also, I had time commitments at Point B. I have never been quicker to send my current location to my family ever. Then obviously I called them up. Did they pick up? Yeah, about 15 minutes later. The sheer panic that I was in gives me goose-flesh even today. After walking for another 6-8 minutes, all the while my neck trying its best to imitate that of an owl to keep vigilance in all directions, I see a parking lot of a decent looking office building.
Were my woes over? I wish. Enter two men with crooked smiles. Without jumping to conclusions, I inquired about the nearest mode of transport from them. They tell me it’s at least another half a kilometre to the junction where one can hail a rickshaw to a metro station. They proceed to tell me that it is not such a safe way ahead and I should just catch a ride in their ‘office’ vehicle (It was a freaking white van with black tinted windows!) to the metro station. I yeeted out of there so quick, it’s not even funny. Certainly not then. If any of you have this itch to tell me that maybe I misread the situation, do not talk to me, EVER! I don’t care if I really did read the situation wrong. Trust me, I don’t. I think Anoop ji would have been proud of me. Back on the lonely path the only way I was consoling myself was that the situation couldn’t get any worse. Or could it?
Finally, saw an electric rickshaw in the distance. I swear I ran to it. Apparently, there was a temple nearby and there were people there. People with non-crooked smiles. I sat down in one without even bothering to check which metro station we’d be going to. Turns out, I was dropped at a station that just added an agonising 15 minutes to my travel time to Point B. Oh boy, was I running late! Nonetheless, I was alive enough to be late to Point B and not actually Late. Hehe. I can neither confirm nor deny if I had tears of joy in my eye on actually seeing the metro station. I did.
P.S. Also Anoop ji I swear I tried to book a cab, but there just weren’t any available. Not one.