Lost in a multi-level parking lot
Shankar Gopalkrishnan
MANY moons ago, one of RK Laxman’s classic cartoons showed a person emerging from an array of parked cars. Relief was writ large on his face as he announced to a passerby, ‘I solved the parking problem! You know how? I simply sold the car!’
Decades have passed, but the parking problem has stayed the same. Laxman would have felt totally at home today. Only the design of the parking lot has changed. These days, we see multi-level parking lots, especially in malls.
Multi-level parking lots come in two ‘flavours’ — in one, the storeys are constructed above the ground — we ascend floor by floor to find a parking spot. In the other model, we tunnel our way to the levels constructed below the earth. Indian mythology talks about ‘six upper lokas’ — bhuvah, suvah, mahah, janah, tapah and satya. It also talks about ‘seven lower lokas’ — atala, vitala, sutala, talaatala, rasaatala, mahaatala and paataala. The multi-level parking lot perhaps borrows the idea from these lokas.
Parking lots are dark, dingy and devoid of ventilation. I drive the car inch by inch to find that one free spot. Behind me is a procession of other cars. Like me, they are also predators on the prowl, fighting for the same spot. Alertness is crucial. Sometimes, there is one free spot, but I miss it by a fraction and edge ahead. There is no possibility of backing. The fellow behind me is quick. In a reflex action, he bolts for the empty slot and thumbs his nose at me! It is a cat-and-mouse game everywhere.
They say patience is a virtue. If we require a testing ground to measure our progress in patience, it is here. Finally, I find a free spot. Quickly, I park the car and head off to the mall. It takes only an hour in the mall before window-shopping fatigue sets in.
Where did I park the car? It is a complete haze — I recall going up and down several times, but the outcome isn’t clear. Was it in B2 or B3? I head out to B2. B2 is a sea of cars. What’s worse, even recalling the car number is a tough job. Is it DL1 or DL3? At the most critical moment, the memory becomes fuzzy.
I imagine all possibilities: If I search car by car, for sure, the security person will grab me by the scruff of the neck, mistaking me for a car thief. How will I explain my predicament? ‘Yes, I am looking for my car. I parked it somewhere. I don’t remember my car number. It is DL something. But yes, I remember my car is red in colour, it is a Honda and it has four tyres. Can you help me?’
The ruminations are cut short as I stare at the car in front. It looks strangely familiar. It is red, it is a Honda. It has four tyres. Plus, when I click the key, it unlocks! Yes, it is my car!
Some horror films have a happy ending!
