To The Moon, To The Moon

I got worried after hearing the news about how India was racing.towards the moon I hadn't even packed.

"India is going to the moon and I'm going to office. How stupid!" I chided myself.

The newscaster on FM was excited about all this and I was scared I might be left behind.

"Calm down. No need to pack. The whole country is going so your stuff will come along," I told myself. I got my nerves back. And the smile too as I could see in the rear-view mirror.

"Thank you Vajpayeeji, you are the first Prime Minister who thought of India going to the moon," I told Mr Atal Bihari Vajpayee, who was smiling at me from the hoarding across the red light. Did he notice my smile? I am sure he did.

"Are we taking Pakistan along?" I asked Veeru, my friend, over the phone.

"Where?" he asked.

"Where we are going." I said.

"Where are we going?" Veeru said, with a hiss of irritation.

"You don't know? I thought you would know. I thought everybody would know since everybody is going," I explained it to him.

"Where is everybody? Where are they going?" he continued, the hiss a bit louder.

"To moon. To moon," I was proud to give him the answer.

"Which moon? Who all?" Veeru screamed, without telling me he was losing patience.

"Moon. India is going to the moon. Are we taking Pakistan along?"

"What nonsense?"

"Aren't you coming along? Lets go together. I might get bored."

"What nonsense? You are lunatic."

"Not before we go to the moon. Then we all will be lunatic. I was anyway getting tired of being an earthling, ha ha!" I told him before telling myself how I loved my sense of humour.

"You are a lunatic. Where were you last night? Are you okay? Call me when you reach home. Ok?"

"But I am going to office."

"Then why are you talking like that?"

"Talking like what?"

"Like going to the moon, man."

"Aren't we going?"

"Who says we are going?"

"The radio. The News on the radio. The man reading the news on the radio."

"Which radio?"

"All India Radio."

"What did they say?"

"They said India is racing towards the moon."

"That's old news."

"Then why aren't you coming?"

"Where?"

"Moon."

"Uff... cut it. Indians aren't going to the moon. We'll send a probe. That too will happen much later. I can't believe you are talking about going there."

"Going where?"

"To moon."

"But you said you aren't coming," I told him before he hung up and I heard a knock on the sidescreen.

"Baahar aao," a cop ordered as we were already on the moon.

"Ek Hazaar (one thousand rupees). For obstructing traffic and talking on phone," he informed me.

I was back on earth. In Delhi. The traffic light had turned green. Fellow drivers were honking my brains out. I was escorted by the officer to the side where the No Waiting, No Stopping sign stood. I was told to stop. I stopped. Refused to bribe. Took the challan. And started off for my office.

On the next redlight, I found Vajpayeeji smiling at me from another hoarding. He didn't wink but the smile was a telling one: I fooled you!