The weekend passed by quickly and on Monday morning Arjun joined me at the dinning table for breakfast. After a hurried breakfast he wore his suite and was about to leave before he reminded me to take the car to the garage. I just nodded and he gave me a kiss and left.

The memories of the other day were still fresh and I wanted to avoid going to the garage but with summer approaching, driving a car without an AC was something I wasn’t looking forward to. So I had not choice but to go there.

I finished my chores and sorted out the day’s schedule. I wore a faded jeans and a yellow colored top. I took my hand bag and the keys to the car and the house and headed out to the parking. It was almost noon and the car had become really hot after being in the sun. I broke a sweat the moment I got into the car and it was just clear to me. I had to get this AC fixed!

Arjun had told me where Gurnam’s garage was. It was three kilometers to the east of my neighborhood. As I approached the area, I slowed down and started looking around for his garage. Along the way I realized that this part of the town was still undeveloped. There were a couple of buildings which were complete and a few under construction building s**ttered around.

As I turned towards the last lane of the neighborhood, I saw the board of his garage. I slowly drove towards it and as I approached I could read the hoarding clearly. It said ‘Gurnam Da Garage’. The name just confirmed that he was a Punjabi.

The garage was pretty big and stood over a large plot of land. It was not a concrete structure, it was just brick walls with worn out white plaster with tin roofs over them. I took a right turn into the garage and saw a large rust gathering gate which lead into the garage. I slowly drove in and I saw a few cars parked around.

I stopped my car and got out of it and started walking towards the interior of the garage. As I walked inside I saw several broken down, mangled cars or at least what was left of them. There were a couple of men who were working on them and they were oblivious to the fact that a beautiful young woman was walking towards them.

I saw a teenage boy sitting on a tiny stool, cleaning the engine parts with what looked like petrol. He must have been no more than twenty years old. The garage was filled with sounds of hammering and sheet cutters and all the clanky noises that one hears in every garage.

“Where is Gurnam?” I asked the boy as I walked over to him.

The boy looked up at me and for a few seconds just started at me. He just sat still staring at me as if we were playing the game of statue. I again asked him where is Gurnam. Without uttering a word, he pointed in a direction.