Where's my rosary beads when I need them!

Dear readers,
Verily my bottom was squeaking so tightly at lunchtime today, I swear that even WD40 wouldn't have helped! I was being driven to work in abnormally heavy traffic on the main road when we came to an almighty traffic jam, the like of which I'd not encountered even in Delhi! No big deal I hear you say; and normally you'd be right and I'd agree (having become yoga like in my approach to the vagaries of Delhi traffic).

The point of this was, that we were stuck in this jam next to a car that burst into flames. the initial flames were slightly alarming and our mini extinguisher wouldn't have dented the flames so to speak. These flames became an inferno in a matter of seconds (the car's occupants had done a runner by this time), and the first thing that crossed both Kewal and my minds simoultaneously but in different languages was "Shit what if the tank blows" as it had every potential for so doing. If it was a CNG car then it is just as bad, in either event I am beginning to feel very, very afraid with a vision of a loud bang and then infinity with my body parts and those of several hundred round about us being scattered over the flyover and underpass some 100 yards away.

The "frigging" traffic lights are at red still and the jam is not moving an inch! Despite everyone blasting their horns at the people in front, the punters who're crossing the road show no sign of letting us or anyone else through and now my rear end is the same temperature as the flaming car not 10 feet from my window. By now people are beginning to make a dart for it on foot or driving their cars up onto the pavement and barging all and sundry out of the road to get as far away as possible from the potential explosion, yet Kewal and I are stuck like a couple of turkeys with no exit and too close in anyones language.

As if by a message from some ancient Hindu god, whether Ganesh, Shiva or anyone else in the pantheon of Hindu gods, the lights change to green and we set off (everyone that is) like the start of the Le Mans 24 hour race to get as much distance between us and the raging inferno/potential bomb as quickly as humanly possible.

I'd calmed down to a frenzy by the time we got to the school, but in total frankness I'd had a scare which I could have done without and hope never to repeat. I didn't hear any explosion, so assume that either the fire brigade had got there (I doubt that with the volume of traffic) or that the tank was empty and the whole thing just burnt out. I'll know better tomorrow when I pass by again. The rest of the day was insignificant by comparison, so I'll brush over that.
Namaste from a very relieved part time teacher in Delhi.