Goel Sahib was in a rather peculiar predicament. As he sat awkwardly on two chairs — one supporting his well-fed torso and the other his bandaged leg — he mused over his recent mishap.

You see, Goel Sahib was a retired chief manager of a large bank, and a man with a great fondness for tikki, samosas, and beer. These culinary delights had contributed to his impressive girth, which in turn made his ill-fated scooter ride even more disastrous.

One fine morning, while navigating his trusty scooter through the bustling streets, a black dog decided to play a game of chicken with Goel Sahib. Unsurprisingly, the dog won, and Goel Sahib ended up sprawled on the pavement with a fractured leg. The doctor insisted on a plaster cast, and even after its removal, his leg needed to be elevated to prevent swelling. Hence, the grand two-chair arrangement — Goel Sahib’s makeshift throne.

As he held court on his throne, a steady stream of visitors arrived — not just to offer sympathy, but to deliver a buffet of unsolicited medical wisdom.

Agarwalji, expert in all matters except tact, exclaimed:
“Forty days and still bandaged? Don’t trust these doctors! Come with me to Dhani Ram Pehlwan in Ghopla village. Half an hour, and you’ll be running marathons!”

Khannaji, ever the culinary consultant, leaned in with a recipe:
“Forget capsules. Boil four goat hooves in a cooker. Strain it, add salt and pepper. Drink it like soup. Not non-veg — think of it as medicine!”

Old friend Agarwal Sahib had only one question:
“Besides the black-and-yellow dog, tell me honestly, where were your eyes?”

Retired Inspector Balwant Singh offered a rustic remedy:
“Happened to me too. Slipped on a wet floor. Constable brought sheep’s milk. Massaged it in, added turmeric, drank the rest. I’ll find you a sheep.”

And then came Bansaljee, with a supernatural angle:
“Third injury? Bad omen. Black dog too? Very inauspicious. You must visit the crematorium for ten minutes at seven in the evening. I’ll come with you. Trust me.”

Poor Goel Sahib was left reeling. Was he to boil hooves, drink sheep’s milk, or sit in a crematorium? Each advisor left him more bewildered than the last.

In the end, Goel Sahib decided to follow his doctor’s orders and leave goats, sheep, and spirits out of the matter. His reasoning was simple: if he healed properly, he could return sooner to his beloved tikki and samosas.

As for the black dog, he now had a firm policy — avoid all dogs while riding a scooter.

Goel Sahib’s misadventure left him with two eternal truths:

• Never argue with a dog on the road.
• Never argue with well-wishers in your drawing room.

Both, as he discovered, can leave you limping.