The Tribune - Windows

Driving Ms Crazy
Aditya Rishi

Chinaman

A number repeatedly divided by 3, gives remainder 2; repeatedly divided by 5, gives remainder 3; and repeatedly divided by 7, gives remainder 2. What is the number? — Sun Tsu Suan-Ching (Chinese from 4th century)

IT wasn’t easy driving Ms Daisy; she could drive anyone crazy, and I was to be her new driver. Only a week ago, I had lost my old bank job in the city and this new one was taking me away from home and that curse. I thought she had hired me because of my gentleness; I had no idea it had all been due to my bank job.

She was an aging small-town matron, whose son had got her a chauffeur (over her articulate and amusing protests). Our first conversation was tired and flat; I think I had just run out of gas.

"Stanley Ip..." "Kiss," "Sorry?!" "It’s Ipkiss, Stanley Ipkiss." "Well, I’ll call you Stanley. Stanley, my son got me this car. It is the only car you’ll see in this town. People here still like to walk and so do I. However, my son calls me up from the city to ask if I have taken the car out this week. If I say no, it’ll break his noble heart, so wherever I go walking, this car will follow me and you will be driving it."

>From then on, she would always look for an excuse to show that I was unworthy and so I should quit.

The traffic in the town was equally strange. One saw only pedestrians or mounted men on the road, and then, there was this car that always followed Miss Daisy.

Ms Daisy was in the market and I was following her as usual when a horse stepped on her basket and crushed the eggs she had bought for home. The rider offered to pay for the damage and asked her how many eggs she had bought.

She told him she did not remember the exact number, but when she had taken these out two at a time, there was one egg left. The same thing happened when she picked out the eggs three, four, five, and six at a time, but when she took these out seven at a time, these came out even. "What is the smallest number of eggs she could have had?"

She had set the rider thinking and it was driving me crazy. I never felt so cursed in life. Just then, I saw that cursed mask again and quickly put it on. VROOOOOOOOM! Say hello to your stinky little fellow, the Mask. That little rider was a chicken, who couldn’t crack that egg problem. PUK, PUK, PUKKAAK! The question is: how did the Mask solve it. (Three years of Mind Games; write at The Tribune or adityarishi99@yahoo.co.in)