When we bought our car, a Hyundai i10, in 2008, we received two keys and I was a happy driver for 16 years. If we mistakenly left the keys inside and got ourselves locked out of the car, the spare key saved the day.

Last year, our car met with an accident and was towed away to the police station. Fortunately no one was hurt. We all learn from our mistakes, and we become a slightly better driver after an accident. But this one also taught me lessons of a different kind.

This was on the day of a relative's engagement. The car that hit ours was a Bolero pickup truck and didn't show any signs of impact other than a small dent on its left bumper. But the Hyundai i10's front right side fender, wheel and axle where totalled.

The police didn't agree to let us tow the car to our place and wanted both parties to come to the station with the vehicle. In retrospect, I should have gone to the station along with the car and dealt with the matter the same day. But I did not know better at that time and succumbed to the pressure to attend the function. The situation was further muddied by assurances from the Panchayat president of the nearby village, that I can deal with it the next day and didn't have to worry. He was also a relative.

I soon realized that this was one of the stupidest thing to do. Showing the least care for your property and trusting the police to protect it.

We sought the help of a lawyer, who negotiated with the police. It took a few days for the police to confirm that the other party would not proceed with filing a case and to agree to return the confiscated property.

I eagerly went to the Police station along with the lawyer the same evening. I was asked to write a letter with the details of the incident which included the statement that the police have duly returned the confiscated vehicle, and I agreed to report back with the car if there was any further inquiry or action needed.

All these were the regular procedure and the lawyer handling it made it less stressful for me. But unfortunately, after giving the letter, they searched for the key, and it was nowhere to be found. We rummaged through two boxes full of keys from vehicles with a similar plight. The police said that the person who was on duty might have misplaced it, and he would be on duty only the next day. I would have to use the duplicate key until then.

The duplicate key was in Chennai and the car was in the Mailam police station, a distance of 135 km. We had already given the letter to the police before we were informed of the missing key. Refusing to pick up the car now and asking for the letter to be returned would sour the matters, and cause more work for me. The lawyer too was in no mood to confront the police. Now that I remember the small talk he had with the constables on first name basis, I realized he would be even less interested than me in creating a ruckus.

We weighed our options for opening the door. The lawyer called one of his juniors, who conveniently also ran an automotive scrapyard. After a bit of small talk with him, I made him realize that I was in no mood to scrap the car. He asked for a metal scale from the police station, tore of the weather stripping, inserted it between the door and the window glass and started playing around with it trying to open the lock.

Meanwhile, the guy who we had called to tow the car to a local garage, suggested that he could either call up someone to pick the lock or just break the quarter pane glass and open the car. As I was slowly weighing my options, the lawyer made a more quick decision and asked the driver to call up the lock pickers. It was already getting dark now.

Three guys arrived at the scene on a Honda Activa and started randomly disconnecting wires on the front and around the headlights. Another guy started playing around with the scale inserted in the window, replacing the junior advocate.

I felt like my car was being violated by five men and that blew my fuse off.

"Stop!" I shouted. "Why are you disconnecting the wires, without asking me? Don't you realize that there is no electronic theft device installed?"

I was angry at the thought that they might break other things while trying to open the lock. I would be the one who would have to live with the consequences. There was no way these people would prioritize my interests. They were here for the easy money, that came from exploiting my helplessness. They didn't care about reducing further loss to my property, but only about extracting the maximum amount of money from me. It wasn't without reason that three people had come to pick a single lock which did not require man power but skill, patience and focus. The closest situation to this I had faced was when my father had developed a brain tumour.

"I know you are a bunch of amateurs. Get lost", I shouted again.

Since they had just begun to work, it was easier for me to kick them out with a bit more of posturing. Fortunately, they left without extracting any money from me.

I asked the towing service driver to break the quarter pane. I had already checked the price, and it was just around Rs. 600, including shipping.

The driver took a lever from his boot, gave quick wack on the glass with it, and soon we were on our way to the garage, with the car in tow.

Fast-forward a few years, and I was once again in the same situation, this time purely my doing.

One day I was working on the front right door of our car after removing the door trim. I was trying to replace the side view mirror which was knocked off its fixture. I couldn't remember how it happened. My best guess was the pesky neighbourhood kids, who I last saw playing ice-boy—now Americanized to hide-and-seek—running up and down the stairs beside which the car was parked. Now don't mistake me for an old curmudgeon

With a bit of guidance from a few YouTube videos, I soon completed the task. Feeling proud, I hurried to take a break.

When I returned a few minutes later to clear up the tools, I couldn't open the door. I had forgotten to check the lock position before slamming the door shut, and the key was still in the ignition switch. What a stupid mistake I had done.

There are the occasions when you really wish you had a time machine so that you can go back and kick your past self on their butt right when they are about to do that one action which changes their lives.

I stood there frozen, playing the events that happened in the last few minutes over and over in my mind. No one turned up with a time machine.

I swallowed my pride and went through my options. I searched boodmo and the price was around Rs. 450. There was another item already in the cart and showed a shipping charge of Rs. 150. I concluded that the price was around the same that I had paid a year before and decided to break into my car, once again.

I tested a few items like a box spanner and screwdriver, hitting the quarter pane with them. The glass was too strong, and all of them bounced back with just a few scratches left on the glass. I realized I needed something more hefty and with a sharp point. Immediately I remembered something that would do the work. I ran into the house, got hold of a bill hook and tapped the pointed end on the glass, imagining all the Tamil movies I had watched. The pane shattered into a thousand little diamonds held together by cheap cellophane.

While carefully removing the broken bits of glass from the seat and floor, I silently vowed, to get the spare key made first before replacing the broken glass.

I started with some quick research on the Internet and there were machines made by the ever innovative tool vendors from Coimbatore which duplicated a key onto a blank by using a cutting disk that moved by tracing the original key. There were also blank keys being sold for the i10 online that cost Rs. 300.

I wished I could buy the cutting machine and make my own duplicate key, but at my scale even a file set wouldn't be worth the returns on my money.

Being a locksmith required years of practice. You could see them on the roadsides setting shop with just a small vice, hacksaw and a file set. They had immense skill and would whip out a duplicate key from the hundreds of blanks on display, before you knew it. The quality of the fitting jobs I had done in the mechanical workshop at college were still fresh in my mind. I started to look for a locksmith.

I went to the round building shops, a landmark around Mogappair, and a place filled with all manners of low investment trades. After a few enquiries, I located a locksmith's shop, but they all seemed to have been put out of work by the machine. They still had their shops, but now used them as price gouging fronts. They would tell that it would take two days for the key to be made and take the key to another vendor who owned the duplicating machine. It had become a low turnover, high margin business.

I enquired with the person sitting lazily on a stool.

"OK, here talk to the owner", he said. I took the phone and told my situation and asked how much a duplicate key would cost.

"I can quote only after seeing the car, Sir", the locksmith replied.

I told him the make, model and year and also said there were no electronic security system.

"It would cost Rs. 1800", he replied.

"What? Why do you need so much for a simple key?" I asked expressing my shock.

"Sir, there is a chip inside the key", he replied.

"Really? This is what people told when the Rs. 2000 note was released", I chuckled.

The locksmith was not pleased with my sense of humour.

"OK, I will call you once I get hold of the key. What is your name?" I asked.

"Daniel", he replied.

As I walked into the Tirumangalam Metro station I took a photo of the key and sent it to Daniel through WhatsApp. I boarded the next train to central on my way to GP Road.

GP Road is right behind the famous LIC building and was the Mecca of original auto parts in Chennai. I was looking at all the sign boards placed in the shops, as I walked past, for any indication of key duplication services. Finally, I spotted a photo of a car key on a shop called Nachiappa Stickers.

The name sounded familiar and looked like a reputed shop. I went inside and showed the key to the attendant.

"There might be a chip embedded in the plastic moulding, Sir. In that case, the duplicate can be used only to open the door and will not start the engine. If you also want to drive the car, you need to contact the dealer to get the key", he said.

"That is OK, how much does the duplicate cost?" I asked.

"Rs. 150", he replied.

This sounded a better deal. "Go ahead and make me one", I said handing over the key.

In just under a minute, he came back with a new key with neatly cut grooves matching the original.

"If it does not open, should I do any sanding or filing to fit it?" I asked.

"No Sir, it will fit perfectly", he replied.

I then stopped at Jehangir where I had bought the quarter pane glass earlier.

"It would cost Rs. 900", the attendant replied.

This was way more than what I had budgeted after checking the price on boodmo.

"Is there any other cheaper option?" I enquired.

"Try Pudupet", he replied.

Pudupet is the other automotive Mecca, situated on the opposite side of the Cooum river, from GP Road. It is famous for refurbished parts from old and more famously stolen vehicles. I had driven through the place a few times but never had a good look at the shops. I decided to pay my visits to this place too.

As I walked across the bridge, I saw the usual sewage flowing in the Cooum river. The stench was unbearable. The pilgrim's road is never comfortable.

Pudupet had a bit of an old world charm to it. After walking past some shops there was this large shady tree. The kind under which a village headman would sit to decide a local dispute. A shed with its doors locked stood under it now. The name board said, "Police at door step".

As I walked past, I couldn't see any shops specializing in glass. It was mostly reworked engines, exhausts, suspensions and lots of cheap new accessories. I didn't want to waste time enquiring anywhere as I had already made up my mind that it would be too much of a gamble buying from here.

I walked a bit more and ended up at the Egmore railway station and boarded the metro back to Tirumangalam.

As I got out of the metro, I received a voice message with a quote from Daniel. "There is no chip in this key Sir. It will cost Rs. 550", he said. I posted a 'Thank You' emoji, feeling happy on the savings I made.

Back home, I logged into boodmo to order the glass, but it showed a shipping cost of Rs. 500 which brought the cost to Rs. 950. I cursed myself for assuming the shipping cost and the government for the inflation and started looking for any vendor closer to home.

Calcutta Glass in Arumbakkam seemed to be the nearest store. I called the shop, and they quoted Rs. 950. This was still a better option than boodmo as I didn't have to wait for 10 days, or so I thought. Instead, I ended up being cheated by this guy who sold me a piece with a number of scratches. I realize now that I should have followed him when he took the piece inside for packing. A common ruse in the big bad world outside of Amazon. Running to the shop once again for replacement that may or may not come, wasn't worth the time and money. I realize now why people vacillate towards Amazon even when it pulls up a few dirty tricks on its own.

Now I am all set to attempt replacing the glass, without fear of locking myself out. No one would even guess that the glass was replaced as it looks as old as the car with scratches that mimics age. More importantly I was thankful that I did not have an engine immobilizer that requires the chip in the key to be reprogrammed, nor a car costly enough to require an engine immobilizer. Innovation is about selling a problem as a solution, so that you can keep innovating.