I spent the first few days in Tiruvannamalai getting settled into my small 1BHK Airbnb, catching up on my freelancing work and visiting the ashram. Being busy with these activities, I did not find time to start my car. It was parked in a small parking lot next to the Airbnb host’s house about 100 metres away from where I stayed. The car was safe, so there was no urgency to check on it.
But after ten days, I thought it might be a good idea to start the car. I wasn’t expecting anything to be wrong but just wanted to get the engine going and move the wheels a bit.
The next evening, I left for the ashram a little early and went to the parking space first. The car’s body was dusty, and the windshield had a medium-thick layer of dust on which I wrote ‘Tiruvannamalai’ with my fingers, just for fun. I wanted to clean the car, but, given the dust, it would have taken a lot of time and effort, so I made a mental note to find someone to clean it twice every week. But for now, just starting the car would have to suffice.
I got in the car and turned on the ignition key. The engine made a sound. It was a normal sound; the engine was cranking, the spark-plugs were firing, but, and there always is a but, the car did not start.
I looked at the fuel indicator, which, to my horror, showed empty. This was impossible. The tank was somewhere between half and three-fourth full when I had parked the car ten days back. That’s about 20 - 25 litres of petrol.
I had double-checked the fuel gauge and also noted the mileage while parking the car.
I pulled out my phone to get the details. The odometer showed the same mileage reading. The car hadn’t moved an inch. So where did 20-25 litres of petrol disappear?
If this had happened to bollywood actor Amrish Puri, he was have said in his ominous baritone, “Abe murkh insano, meri gaadi ka petrol kaha gaya? Kya use aasman kha gaya ya dharti nigal gayi?“
I simply scratched my chin and stared into space, wondering what was going on. I may not have a baritone and gun-toting henchmen, but dreadful years in software development have given me the gift of logic, so I squatted near the fuel tank and tried to sniff for any sign of petrol leakage. There was none. Neither smell nor dark patches under the car. That was strange. I called Bala, the Airbnb, host to ask him if he had smelled petrol or if anyone who lived in that lane had reported a strong petrol smell. He said that he had visited the parking area several times in the past few days but had never smelled leaking petrol. No one in the lane had reported anything either.
Could someone have stolen the petrol? I looked at the little lid outside the fuel tank. It was locked. I unlatched it to check the lock. The black screwable cap was in place and tight. I doubted if a thief would be so conscientious to fix the cap back properly and close the lid. And, in any case, I didn’t believe the fuel was stolen. The people in that lane felt like they were trust worthy and taking twenty litres of petrol isn’t something you can do in a few minutes. Somebody would have noticed it.
So where had the fuel disappeared? I looked at dharti and aasman but they were as clueless as me.
Completely clueless, I tried the pointless exercise of turning the ignition on and off a few times, but the fuel gauge stayed at ‘E’ and the car refused to start.
I checked the headlights to make sure the battery was in good shape. It was.
There was only one thing left to do: pour fuel into the car. I asked Bala if we could get petrol from somewhere.
He got a 5 litre can from his house and took me to a nearby petrol pump to get it filled.
Back at the car, we cut an old plastic bottle and connected it to a sturdy plastic pipe to create a funnel. With this makeshift apparatus in place, we transferred the petrol into the car.
Filled with hope, I turned the ignition key. The fuel indicator stayed stubbornly at “E” and the car too did not start.
Could it be that five litres weren’t enough? It really should have been enough, but I decided to get some more. Off I went to the petrol pump and came back with some more fuel, which was quickly poured into the fuel tank.
I did the whole car-starting-dance again and got the same result. The indicator refused to budge, and the car refused to start.
By now, it was clear that lack of fuel was not the problem. The problem lay somewhere else. Something was causing the fuel indicator to malfunction and preventing the car from starting.
This problem was way beyond my scanty knowledge of cars. I needed expert help.
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