If there's no other way to get rich in this life, i will write a book documenting the situations my dad gets into, and his reactions to each of them. I remember writing a post about the omni getting sold off not too long ago. Now, water has flown under the bridge and a Santro has taken its place in the parking lot under the house. My mum is indifferent, i still prefer the khatara, but my dad, it must be said, has fallen head over heals for the new car. It's his dream machine. "A Grey Santro with a red doctor's sign looks like a car with standard," is his modest opinion. ( the 'modest' is sarcasm. Don't be fooled by words, you should see his expression when he says 'standard'.)

And Of Course, it had to happen.

The car had just been parked outside Mocambo, and my dad had just entered the restaurant when, apparently, a drunk young gentleman behind the wheel of a Tata Sumo smashed straight into the car. There was nothing of the front left headlight left ( left headlight left, haah) , nor most of the bonnet.

Also, my dad asked me to sleep in his room that night.

In reality, it really irks me, this weird Affection for this inanimate object. His obsession with the car is Unimaginable. Or not so unimaginable. But I also remembered something he had said the First time the omni got a scratch. He said, "You know, every time there's a scratch on the car, there is a dent in my heart"

The aww-fulness of the situation sometimes does get to me.
But i daresay, his heart must be Really deformed right now.