COLD

2021-- London, England

”Cold-Hearted Ba*****ds.”

The lament came with a wail from 65-year-old Ramakant as he heard the bad news.

A few hours back on this cold dreary dark London morning Ramakant had hobbled across his door to his parked Toyota Auris and keyed in his ignition.

The engine kicked into life with a roar resembling a Formula One vehicle simultaneously emitting out foul-smelling fumes.

Something was wrong, he had never experienced this before.

Cutting off the power he got out of his car, locked it remotely on the key hob and hobbled back into the house.

His journey to do his weekly shopping would have to wait.  

He called up the vehicle breakdown assistance company.

The operator promised that a mechanic would be there within the hour.

True to their time scale the breakdown assistance drew up into his driveway and parked parallel to his Toyota.

As the burly mechanic greeted him, Ramakant in a few words explained the situation and highlighted the odd noise emanating from the car.

The mechanic started his analysis. 

“Please get into the car and start your engine.”

Ramakant did as he was told.

As soon as the engine roared into life with the eardrum straining roar he said.

“Cut off your engine” Ramakant turned off the key.  

The mechanic bent down snd lying flat on his back on the floor examined the underbelly of the car.

He came out shaking his head.

“I am afraid to be the bearer of this bad news. You have been the victim of a theft. The catalytic converter from your car has been stolen.”

The next words he sensitively shared were torture.

”The cost to replace this would be around £2000.”

That's when Ramakant’s lament and the wail came. He was instantly transported back to a distant time in another land, another country, another city, another place.

              

               ——///——

1975 — Chor Bazar, Bombay 

As the name suggests, it stood for ‘Thieves Market.’

The origin of the name of the market is some times attributed to a popular story where a violin and some other belongings of Queen Victoria, while on a visit to Bombay, went missing while being unloaded from her ship. They were later said to be found for sale in the "thieves market".

Ramakant, as a teenager, just about to turn into a young adult, had against the advice of all his elders driven to the infamous area to source out one replacement headlight fitting for his dads Chevrolet Impala. 

He had banged his dad's car while out for a pleasant spin. It was a small mishap. Not braking on time he had screeched to halt just as the car grazed against a street lamp post. One headlight was the victim. The left-hand side had been damaged and cracked.

Luckily the other side stayed intact and no other damage was done.

He would have to replace this with his pocket money before his dad, who was on a business trip abroad, returned and got to know.

Just one damaged light fitting needed to be purchased. However being a rare car on the roads of Bombay in those days, it was difficult to get original spare parts for these cars.

In a casual conversation with a college friend the name of this place, ‘Chor Bazar’ near Bhendi Bazar in Grant Road, South Bombay had dropped as being the place to get original parts at dirt cheap prices. The bad press about this place had not been mentioned.

Young Ramakant had driven from his posh Walkeshwar residence and reached here one sunny afternoon.

Parking the Impala, in one corner of the busy street market, he jostled his way through the crowd. A few vagabonds started touting him enquiring what he was looking for.

After shooing most of them he chose one boy to be his guide.

The boy leading him advised him of this Motor Spares shop as “Yahan Asli maal milenge Saheb” (you will get authentic stuff).

The shop in concern was an Alladins cave filled with motor parts. Imported and local vehicles bits and pieces dangled all around this small space. Some were shiny while some lay rusted and uncared for.

As he spoke to the goatee bearded, skull capped owner and explained his requirements he was smooth-talked that he was in luck and they had it in stock. It could be procured from their other shop and it would be here in about 10 minutes. He spoke in a lingo to one of his elves of which only the word ’Impala’ could be deciphered. 

“Saheb ke liye juice mangalo” was the instruction to his other elf (order a juice for the gentleman).

As one elf scurried to get the parts the other scurried to get the drink. Ramakant was offered a wooden four-legged stool to sit on but he preferred to browse around the shop.

The cold musambi (sweet lime) juice pepped with black salt, chat masala and cumin powder in a tall glass with a straw arrived in a jiffy followed after about 15 minutes by the Impala headlight. The headlight with its fittings was second hand but shiny and sparkling. It had been given a good clean up and wipe.

He checked for the etched company markings. Satisfied that they were originals and suited his requirements he now came to the nitty-gritty of the price. An exorbitant sum was quoted. 

Haggling started and after much persuasion, Ramakant brought it down to half of what was quoted. The dealer grudgingly finally agreed. After paying in cash and picking up the headlight, which was wrapped in a crumpled Urdu newspaper, he walked towards his car. 

Ramakant was over the moon. Thoroughly impressed by his bargaining skills he was mentally calculating the money he had saved from making this purchase in this flea market in comparison if he had brought it from an official dealer. A wide smile spread on his face.

Walking towards where he had parked, he approached his car. 

As he reached it his jaw dropped at what he saw. 

His Euphoria crashed in a second. 

The cracked damaged headlight was in its place however on the other end which once housed the undamaged headlight, there was now a wide gaping hole.

The headlight was missing.

The newly purchased package fell from his hand. 

As his attention fluctuated back and forth from the wide gaping hole in his car front and the package on the floor, reality struck.

He had been robbed in daylight. His normal Chevrolet Impala headlight may have been stolen while he waited at the shop and sold back to him by unscrupulous elements. 

But there was no way he could prove this 

He had first handedly experienced ’Chor Bazar’

Explicit words escaped as he stomped his foot and yelled, ”Cold Hearted Ba*****ds.”

           

              ------////------

2021-- London, England

In recent years, catalytic converter (CAT) thefts has risen dramatically worldwide. 

London was also in it's grip.

By chemical reaction CATs substantially reduce harmful pollutants from the exhaust. The metal case of the CAT contains a ceramic honeycombed structure providing a massive surface area across which the exhaust gases flow.

Precious metals – platinum, palladium and rhodium – are coated onto this ceramic structure as catalysts for the reactions that 'clean' the exhaust.

An average car has just 2-6 grams of these metals.

The theft situation has been exacerbated by a rise in the value of the precious metals found in these  catalytic converters, which are more expensive than gold. Palladium is worth around £1915 per ounce, rhodium more than £16,000, and platinum about £844 per ounce.

Driven by the value of the metals,

thieves simply cut the catalytic converter from the exhaust pipe of a parked car and sell them on to scrap metal dealers.

The special metals are later extracted in a specialised way by organised crime gangs.

At present thousands of people are working from home or are furloughed due to the coronavirus pandemic. Gangs of thieves are taking advantage of this by targeting vehicles parked in driveways or on the street.

Ramakant who had migrated to England from India, almost 30 years back and was now retired and well settled here realised that he was a victim of one such cold-hearted gang of thieves on this cold morning in London.

This was the moment the cold air was filled with a loud cry.

”Cold Hearted Ba*****ds.”

Images credit —- Internet.