There was this big band of musicians. It was very big. They had two lead guitarists, one piano player, one bass guitarist, three violinists, one flautist, two drummers, two keyboardists, a cello player, three lead singers, a 20-member chorus, four electrical engineers, a sound engineer, three light specialists, a laser specialist, a caterer, a band manager, all the way down to a guy whose job was to keep tuning the various instruments and dusting them daily.
Now, one day, this band went to Mumbai by train, because it's difficult to carry large instruments in the plane. When they got off at the station, there was a whole convoy of vehicles waiting for them: three tempos and a truck for their instruments, 14 Maruti 800 taxis and one new gold coloured SUV, all neatly polished and shiny.
But only the juniormost guy, the one who did the tuning, got into the SUV. All the band members and most of the senior staff got into the taxis after that, stuffing themselves in somehow or the other.
The travel agent was most upset and asked them why they were so snooty.
They protested in one voice that they were nothing of the sort.
Then why was that one poor guy isolated on his own?
They patiently explained to the travel agent, who they were now convinced was quite an illiterate guy, that they did not enter the SUV because it was written on the vehicle: FOR TUNER. Duh.
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