The Real Helpline- in many parts

I was driving through Dharavi late tonight and my car fell into a ditch. Hurt, shaken and afraid I called a close friend. He was unavailable- figuring out his finances for the break he needs to write a book on the problems in Dharavi. Another close friend was working on projecting an AV for a play on the filth in Mumbai. I called man 1 in life right now then. He was heading to a meeting to engage in some pro bono activity for an arts foundation. He suggested I call the tow truck. A crowd of people was beginning to collect around the second car. I toyed with the idea of calling man 2. He would have come. No matter what. He would have told me not to worry. He would make it all ok. But I hadn't called him in days. I had vanished from his life without an explanation, again. The anticipated aftermath of guilt and more gratitude was already to much to bear. (man1 is there in my life to prevent me from believing man2 will remain the messiah he is once i put him on the throne)I stopped short, trepid, teary and looked at the faces I have learnt to fear and loathe breathing down the glass windows. In the teary haze I read the frantic gestures. 10 odd men were bent forward lifting the car and the rest were egging me on to steer behind. Before I knew it I was out. They let out a loud cheer and dispersed without raping or looting me. I drove the rest of the way wondering why I had not taught myself to fear the right things.