I left my nunchucks back in the States or else it would have been curtains for that guy,* or: Did we just get carjacked in broad daylight?

Yet again, my ninja training proved worth the 18 months I spent training with my sensei in the foothills of the Himalayas.

 

On our way to Mayapura from Calcutta, my mother and I thought it was best to take a direct taxi, and my uncle who lives in nearby Kalyani booked it for us. Wanting to take in as much scenery as I possibly could on our trip, I sat in the front with the driver while my mom sat in the back with our luggage. We halting drove through the smog and haze of Calcutta, bombarded with the blaring sounds of car horns and the sights of communist signs sporadically spray painted on the edifices. The congestion of the city gave way to the crowded roadway of the country, shared by bullock carts and bulldozers.

 

 It was soon after we stopped at a checkpoint and paid the toll that I first noticed it. The car behind us was honking and was driving erratically, even for India. It pulled up next to us, and the men in the car started shouting at our driver in Bengali, who ignored them and drove faster and faster down the country highway.

 

… until we reached the set of railroad tracks with an approaching train. Our driver and pursuers jumped out of their respective vehicles and began shoving and fighting each other. In a matter of seconds, one of the men wrested the keys out of our driver’s hand, pushed him back into the car, turned the engine on, and drove across the tracks and down the highway. Our sequestered driver and the carjacker continued to argue and both took out their cell phones and were dialing frantically. My mother, who understands a little Bengali, tried talking to the carjacker to convince him to leave us on the side of the road, but he not only refused to listen, but with one hand on the steering wheel he snatched our driver’s cell phone from his hands so that he couldn’t make any more calls.

 

 As we drove, the carjacker tried to explain what he was doing but I couldn’t understand anything except that he was taking us to his company’s parking lot. We drove for 15 minutes before we reached the lot right on the highway, and me and my mom leaped out of the car.

 

A few minutes later another man came out from the shoddy gates and explained the situation to us. It turned out that the owner of the car (not driver) hadn’t paid the mortgage on the car in like 10 months and the carjacker worked for the company that had leased it out and was sent out to the check point to search for the car and impound it.

 

 He called another cab for us and not only made us pay the fare but set the rate ridiculously high because he knew we had no other alternative to get to Mayapura. I had no alternative but to give him a roundhouse kick to the face.

______________________________

* N. Seal

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