Dropping the F-bomb with Aplomb


Dropping the F-bomb with Aplomb

Illustration: Namaah/ Arré


t may not have the supersonic agility of a Boeing 747, but my MH 7474 has been known to break a barrier of another kind. Like any professional pilot, I have a moral obligation to get my passengers to their destination on time. And right now, it’s 15 seconds to the death knell, errr… school bell.

I gun the engine and the trusty Honda City is about to lift off, when a suicidal pedestrian steps into the flight path. Brakes screech and a loud “fuck!” resonates in the backseat. Hell yeah, I think, without really thinking. A second later, I spin around to glare at my passengers, none old enough to blaspheme my piloting skills. My teenage daughter is shuddering with suppressed mirth, while her eight-year-old brother is radiating awe at the perpetrator, the Buddhaesque toddler beside him.