Two hands and One Mouth Don't Make a Threesome

Following some thought-provoking analyses, I have concluded that there are 19 things that irritate me most (this does not include people asking me how I earn money; that is part of the list of 24,987 things that irritate me second most).  Of the List-Of-19, the one at the top is the sight of someone digging his nose with deep introspection in the hope of recovering some lithium for his electric scooter.  But a close second is when cab drivers insist on doing more things at the same time than are possible with various parts of their (visible) anatomy.  Possible, that is, even for cab drivers, who are certified lunatics in general.
Now, I am all for multi-tasking: I can sleep and dream at the same time.  But that is about the limit.   In case you didn’t know, George Bush – that guy with the IQ of a desiccated coconut – could either chew gum or think and when he tried to do both, there was a chemical reaction and potassium permanganate fumes surrounded him (from the usual look on his mug, you could reliably conclude that other fumes surrounded him too, but Facebook is watching, so I will curb the urge).  And he ran the US for many years, which only proves that you don’t need to multi-task (no, no, he didn’t run the US, as in Usain Bolt, he ran the US as in doing things to screw up the economy and inventing weapons of mass destruction (ie, himself).  There’s a subtle difference.).  Look, even Quick Gun Murugan only shoots when eating paan and coming across a newly painted wall.  

But cab drivers don’t learn from these noble people (Bush, Quick Gun and me, that is).  Two days ago, a cab driver did the following at a traffic light, all at the same time: speak on the phone which was pressed to his ear with his right hand, eat something that had once been a paratha with his left, do a U-turn on the busiest road on the planet at 11 am and stare like a cross-eyed scowling owl at a guy on a bike.  This bike guy looked livid and  seemed to want to strike up a vibrant conversation, beginning with the profound familial Kannada term, Magane, which, when strictly translated means Son and when loosely translated does not mean I Love You, My Son. 
Now, here’s the crux: the biker was also multi-tasking; he had a parallel conversation going - on a phone hidden under his helmet - which is now a certified internationally-accepted, peer-reviewed, accredited behaviour of an imbecile crossed with a toothbrush (and there’s a new danger-keep-away logo being created for it).  But, of course, this was not enough multi-tasking for him – he kept adjusting a large bag on the petrol tank, had carefully chosen words for the cabbie, some of which reflected on his, the cabbie’s, ancestry, and returned hostile glances that were javelined at him by the rest of humanity who were waiting to cross.  
So, all in all, good clean fun and I am now of the revised view that, if people did not multi-task, if they did just one thing at a time (like the Germans), the world would be a decidedly dismal place (no, I did not say Germany) and, because there would be no re-work and repair and recrimination and recourse and reversal and returns, our GDP – which is nearly five trillion minus some change when fake news last came in - would suck (no, I really did not say Germany).