Going Home

(Speech 6-8 min.Project 2 from the Story telling Manual.This speech was delivered at the Microsoft Speechweavers Club)

Bangalore is ready for Christmas yet again. Still I vividly remember my home going during last Christmas. Fellow toastmasters and distinguished guests: a warm good evening to one and all.

I was excited to go to my home in Kerala. I was more excited in driving my brand new car to home. The shining grey colour of my i10 gave a cooling effect to my eyes. I was raring to go behind the wheel of the lovely vehicle. At around 9 pm, I got in the car and waved good bye to my friends. As my friend’s looked on, a lovely smile adorned my lips and in a synchronized fashion my right leg pressed on the accelerator. Loud music reverberated inside the car resembling the mood of my mind. It’s a long drive of 500 km to my home but I will be in solitude enjoying my car all the way, all throughout the enticing night. The thrill of going for a long distance for the first time spiced things up. My prancing horse sailed through the Bangalore-Coimbatore-Kerala highway. I was proud to have this horse as the first valuable thing I earned for myself in life. After three hours of pleasurable driving with few fun filled over takings, I rightly got the turn I must take for the short cut route to Coimbatore via Mettur.

Ten minutes down the road, I saw a person showing hands to stop. A policeman!! .Confidently I stopped the car and showed him the documents including the temporary registration. “Where is the RC book?”- he asked me in cold tone. “RC book...? Oh, Sir this is a newly registered car. I will get it after 60 days” perplexedly I answered. A much harsh and stern reply came “Don’t you know that vehicles without RC book cannot be driven through highway”. Even till date I don’t know this. There, I could get over my ignorance only because of Gandhiji.A smiling face of Gandhi in a 500 rupees note saved me. I was frustrated and felt cheated .A feeling of helplessness covered my face while I drove on. I was tired and decided to grab a quick cup of coffee to refreshen myself. I parked my car in the side of the first tea shop I saw. I had the coffee, paid the cash and left without bothering to ask the route to the 2 locals I found there. I pulled on the door knob, and it was locked. I inserted my hands into the right and the left pockets of the trouser. Alas, the key was missing!!!. I tried all the four doors and all were tightly locked. I had kept the key inside the car and kept the ignition on. I knew then that it would have got automatically locked. With the spare key also inside the car, I tried in desperation to reach the Hyundai service which went unanswered. I was stuck in a totally strange place, in the middle of the night with nobody I know to come for my help. I remembered the numerous times in which I opened the door of Santro by pushing a scale inside the door along the glass of the window. This used to push a knob and the lock used to open. I wanted to apply the same trick. But I had no scale or thin substance that would go in. I asked the tea shopper and he too did not have it. My eyes closed down in helplessness. I asked the shop keeper whether he had a screwdriver and luckily he had it. Little hope, a very little hope came back to me. I went to the back of the car and unscrewed the plastic number plate. I inserted the number plate through the window and pushed it down in the hope that some knob would be pushed and the door will be unlocked. Much to my disappointment it didn’t happen. My exercise continued with the other doors as well but the result remained the same. I knew if it didn’t work out I will have to break the glass of my lovely i10.Whilst I looked on the mighty posture of the classy car shining in the moonlight, my lower eye lids pushed one drop of water back into my eyes.

I was in no mood to give up. I furiously gave further attempts with the number plate. I heard few shouts at my back and when I turned back I saw the two locals behind me. I could make out that they were saying that I was trying to steal this car. They were there, when I came; but still…. Suddenly the two guys grasped my hands from behind. The number plate fell off my hand.I writhed in their mighty clutch. In a swift surprise motion I pushed them back. I ran to the right side of the car through the back of the car. I gave a strong jab into the back window glass with my clenched right fist. The glass broke down. I inserted my hand inside the car through the broken window,ulocked the door,opened it, entered into the car and locked it. Inside the car, from the back seat I pushed myself into the driver’s seat .With the corner of my eyes I could see one hand coming inside the car through the broken window and my ears were filled with the hooligans’ shouting. Before I really sat in the seat, the key turned, and my right foot jammed the accelerator . With the hand break on, the car almost jumped up as it moved forward. I could sense the rowdy desperately pulling his hand out of the car as it fled from the spot. Flooded in sweat, I realized a thicker blood have covered my fist. But something much thicker covered my heart as I drove on the car with a broken window and a missing number plate. Yes, my brand new shining i10.


Over to you toastmaster.

(Above is a story partly based on my experience)