That’s not how this story will end…” I said, my eyes tearing up.

“There are three possibilities. Pray for the one you prefer. “ replied my brother with resignation. The options were as depressing as the situation itself,  incurring hefty fines and heftier administration charges!

“I don’t know how God will manage this but there will be a better outcome.” I said with unjustified confidence. Unjustified because I am not much of a believer. Not in the way most of  my ‘religious and pious’ brethren are. I believe in the goodness  of people and deeds though, and that they are suitably rewarded. 

Without confusing you further, let me begin at the beginning. My eighty seven year old father is a tennis enthusiast and hasn’t missed a single tournament in his life,  zealously cheering and applauding for the idiot box.  My son who has started playing recently, shared his passion. Together they would marvel at shots and serves, bemoan misses, predict winners, connecting across continents and generations. 

When my son noticed that our family vacation to London was in Wimbledon season he thought it would be great to take his grand dad to the event. Tickets were scarce and exorbitantly priced. With great difficulty he managed tickets for the quarter finals. My dad’s happiness knew no bounds when he got wind of  the plan. 

Unfortunately two days before the big outing my dad developed fever. We wondered if  he would have the requisite strength for the excursion. But on D-day  he was up and raring to go. Initially it had been decided that the best way would be to take the ‘tube’ although it entailed some walking. At the last moment as dad looked frailer than usual my son impulsively decided to take his rented car instead. 

Upon reaching the venue  he parked the car in the neighborhood . After the match ended he asked dad to stand at the kerb and  went to get the car. He couldn’t locate it and so ran back knowing that dad must be tired. He then seated him in a cafe and searched the  area but in vain. 

The mystery of the disappeared car was being discussed in a family meeting  that ensued after they returned.  The consensus was that it  had either been towed away or stolen. There was no information about the car on the official website which made the former less likely.  Despondent, we informed the car rental company and police.

Next morning my son decided to go back and look more systematically.  His cousin offered to accompany him. They found the car where he had first hastily searched.  There were no parking tickets on the windshield. It had escaped penalty though it was parked in a restricted parking zone. Surprisingly no one had reported an abandoned car in their neighborhood. It wasn’t  towed away or stolen. Ecstatic of having found it they happily informed the police and rental company. 

Since they were in the area they decided to try for tickets for the semifinals. Onsite tickets are rare to come by. The queues are so long that pitching tents  is allowed. Miraculously, they found no one at the counter and got tickets for the centre court at a very nominal price. 

So it all ended well. My son and nephew got to watch their hero Novac Djokowic play.  All because my son had been so thoughtless that he had parked his car in a restricted zone and not spotted it or because he had been thoughtful enough to gift his grandfather a day at Wimbledon.

( published as Spice of life in HT on 19/12/2022)