The Lost Car Key

It was that time of the year again. My current insurer and Policybazaar had been reminding me since last August that my car insurance was about to expire in July and I needed to renew it. The frequency of the calls had increased from once a week to once a minute. Sensing some delay from my side, they had taken to encroaching my dreams to remind me of the deadline. A nagging spouse cannot break your to clean your wardrobe the way they can push you to buy a policy.

So, with the sole purpose of putting a stop to my nightmares, I set to work. I fetched my current policy to note and compare the offerings. It was then that I noticed the premium I had paid to cover for a lost key, a key that I had lost back in 2018.

Mine being an old car, only one of the keys had central locking and I had managed to lose it when we moved cities. I had checked everywhere I could but to no avail. To this day, I suspect it that it lies at the bottom of one of the unopened cartons, waiting to be found by some future treasure hunter. In the present day, meanwhile, I endure with a primitive, no-tech key. In Bangalore. The absolute shame of it! When I reach the office in the morning or home in the evening, I get out of the car, walk over to the driver’s seat to retrieve my laptop, and then walk back to the driver’s side to lock the car like a Neanderthal.

To end this embarrassing routine, I had paid for that additional insurance cover. The plan was to simply claim one day that I had lost the key and get a new one on the insurance company’s expense. Once a respectable period- beyond which such a claim would not raise any suspicion- had passed, I put the plan into motion and made the call. To my disappointment, I was informed that I needed an FIR to get a new key. There went the money down the drain, I thought. Speaking with the agents was in itself a task and I was not inclined to further complicate it by involving the law.

Now with only about two weeks to go before the policy expired, however, I was feeling an extra bit of motivation. This was due to the motivational Ted Talks I’d been watching lately. So, with a few deep breaths and repeating some of the inspirational quotes to myself (Winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing), I dialled the insurance company, ready to share a lost key story. My call went to hold for five minutes and in that duration, I felt all the determination leaving my body drip by drip. By the time I was through with sharing my car and policy number, I did not even have the will to tell them about the genuine scratch on the side of the car, forget the story about the key. But, having made it so far, it would be even more embarrassing to not register a complain now, since there was an actual human on the other side. Fear of judgement is a far more compelling reason for activity than any internal motivation. So, I hastily repeated a made up story of losing the key earlier that day and he asked me to send the car to the workshop WITH AN FIR.

In India, your social status is inversely proportional to the count of your interactions with law enforcement. With the experience of a brief rub-in with them once before (for the lesser crime of applying for a passport), I am a firm believer of this truism. As much as I empathise with their jobs, a police station is not a place you should wish to visit, not even for real reasons. And here I was, planning to get them to certify a falsified account. Clearly, the task was too complicated for me to carry out immediately. Not only did I have to create a story sans any loose ends, I also had to prepare mentally and emotionally, lest I crack under pressure.

I spent the entire week practicing and perfecting the story, ironing out even remotely suspicious kinks. From getting a new pollution certificate after about a year to actually purchasing something from the departmental store which was the site of alleged key loss, I had it all covered. Upon hindsight, I realise that I expected to be interrogated either by the Batman or by ACP Pradyuman. I had even parked the car some distance away in an isolated street so that I can dissuade them from inspecting it, should they want to.

Even with a week of preparation behind me, I felt anxiety trickle down from the back of my ears in the form once I entered the station. I was asked to wait while the policeman in charge dealt with some hardened criminals who must have been caught lying about something. In the 15 minutes I spent waiting, I had gone through a litre of water and 3 rounds of deep breaths to calm my nerves. Finally, I was called inside. I stammered nervously through the story that I had rehearsed so well, skipping key parts like the existence of the store receipt. The policeman patiently listened to me, confirmed if the report was essential for insurance claim and then wrote down the report, handing me a copy. “Is that it?”, I exclaimed in surprise. Even before he was through with an affirmative nod, I was outside the door.

Once in the open, I felt a rush of relief through my body and had to sit down on the ground to control my shaking legs. After about five minutes, the adrenaline subsided and I was able to stand up by myself. I began walking slowly away from the station and towards my car. Lost in my own world, congratulating myself at having survived the ordeal, I reached the spot where I had parked the car. It was empty.