The cabbie

The phone was ringing early in the morning, an unknown landline number flashing across it. Still in my sleep, I picked up the phone. The voice from the other end of the phone was shaky, quivering. It sounded like the voice of a man missing his front teeth. I strained my ears to understand what he was saying.

"Main aapke ghar ke bahar ek ghante se khada hoon, lekin mere phone mein balance khatm ho gaya tha"( I have been waiting outside your house for more than an hour, but my outgoing calls were barred because of low balance).

It was more like an apology than a complaint. With my eyes half open, I checked the time. It was 7 in the morning on a Saturday. It took me a while to understand the situation. I had conveyed the logistics department of my company about my change of plan - to pick me up from Karol Bagh, Delhi at 9.30 AM instead of from my house in Gurgaon at 7 AM- but apparently it wasn't communicated to the driver. 

"Aapko to Karol Bagh aana tha, 9.30 baje, aap Gurgaon pahunch gaye?” (You had to come to Karol Bagh at 9.30 AM, you reached Gurgaon?), I asked. 

"Mujhe to ji yahi bataya tha" (I was communicated this only), he replied. Despite the fact that the man was hassled, his voice was still very calm.

With great efforts, I explained him where to come. 

I got up after half an hour, got ready at a luxurious pace, had a princely breakfast prepared by my mother-in-law and looked at the time. It was 9.30, yet nothing from the cab driver. 

I called him up to ask his whereabouts. He was still figuring out the address. "Aap karol bagh metro station pe wait karo, main wahin aa jata hoon" (You wait at the Karol Bagh Metro Station, I will come over there), I said finally after many such calls, partly irritated at his inability to understand the simplest of directions. 

After waiting for about 15 minutes at the metro station, I finally managed to locate my cab. It was waiting on the other side of road. I would have given the cabbie a piece of my mind for the delay, but I was taken aback to see a man in his mid-seventies behind the wheels. I said nothing except directions of where to go.

As the cabbie drove, I observed him with curiosity. He had a heavily wrinkled face, a fragile, slightly bent body frame, a pearly white beard that looked Dumbledorish, grey receding hair turning white on the edges, puckered eyebrows with strain visible on his forehead- strained probably from the struggle of making sense of the road. Each wrinkle on his face spoke about a lifetime of struggle, pain, anguish and misery. It was a sad face, yet the man sported a smile in every interaction.

He was clearly struggling- on the road, and in his life. What was his story? Why was this man even driving when he can barely even see? Didn't he have anyone else to support him? Could he even take me to my destination safely? These were some of the thoughts coming to my mind. 

Curious, I finally asked him with a bit of hesitation "Aapki umr kya hai?"(What is your age?)
"Beta"(Son), he would usually add before every sentence, "pata nahi, kareeb 70-75 hogi" (Don't know exactly, maybe 70-75). 

Why was this man driving at the age when he should have retired for good? Curiosity got the better of me and I asked him the very next instant. But I probably wasn't prepared for the answer.

His son was killed during the violent ’84 riots right in front of his eyes. I had till that point only heard about the riots from a third person perspective, but never from a victim's point of view. Yes, it evoked a sad reaction every time I heard of it but it never lingered. Almost like news statistics, it faded out of mind. But for this man, his life had changed forever. Would he have ever imagined holding his son’s ashes when he held the tender little hands for the first time? Would he ever have thought he would be forced to abandon his turban - his pride and faith - for the fear of his life? Would he have ever seen himself driving at the age of 70-odd to make ends meet.

Things became better for him as he married off his daughter. His son-in-law took good care of him, almost like his own son. The couple had a son and life seemed to be back on track. But sometimes destiny has a very cunning way of destroying happiness. Two years back, his son-in-law and grandson died in a road accident. He narrated the whole episode with almost an impassionate tone. It was difficult to discern his emotions. He might have accepted it as a quirk of fate, or still had not come out of the loss… I couldn’t tell. He had been dealt with one cruel blow after another, yet he continued to stand up and fight.

For the next 15 minutes of the ride, there was no interaction between us. He was busy navigating the crowded roads, while my thoughts started veering towards the philosophical – about the uncertainty of life, about what we take for granted, of life and death, of karma and dharma, of destiny.

I was jolted back to the present when in a busy section of the road, he accidentally scratched past a rickshaw, the wheel cover of his car flying off in the whole drama. He got off the car to inspect the damage, limping to reach the wheel cover and salvage whatever little fragments he could gather. I should have been scared being the passenger, but all I could feel was pity.

Suddenly something struck me. "Aapne nashta to kiya tha na?"(Did you have your breakfast?)
"Nahi beta subah se time nahi mila" (No son, I didn't get the time), he said. I felt guilty. This old man had been driving all through the city since the break of dawn on an empty stomach, while I had a sumptuous breakfast in the comforts of home.

Having nearly reached my venue, I handed him a hundred rupee note so he could have his breakfast. He nodded and took it and dropped me at my venue – at Roshanara Club, Delhi. I had come to manage an event.

After about 15 minutes, I saw the cab driver near the pavilion. Curious, I asked if he had his breakfast. The answer was in the negative. But I already had a strange feeling that he wouldn’t have it, so I wasn’t surprised. I knew he was saving. I brought some tea and biscuits meant for guests and players, and offered it to him. By now, my initial pity for this man had turned into adulation. He had every reason to be distraught, angry with life. But he had that drive to go on.

At the end of day, he dropped me home. I simply signed off the register and offered him another 100 rupee note. He took it, smiled, said something under his breath which I thought was a token of appreciation, and left.

The thought of Kulbir Singh, the cabbie, crossed me many times. I thought of extending some financial help to him. But my resolve was probably never strong enough. But one day I finally called the taxi service to enquire about him. They told me that the old man had packed up his bags and left for the village. My guess was he had been removed from the job… it was too risky to let him drive anyways. But what happened to Kulbir Singh post that, I do not know. The cabbie had faded away… into oblivion.

Of Dogs and Humans...

Mornings are usually the same for me - The same chaotic impatient urge to drive fast and reach the destination in the shortest possible time; the same tendency to snap at anyone who would not follow the rules while I would happily flout all rules coz like all Indians, ‘it doesn’t apply to me”. Today was not much different.

As I was driving to work this morning, I saw a dog chasing at all the cars passing the road. It was a busy road within the confines of the sector where I stay. Dogs chasing cars is not a new sight. I’ve always thought dogs get a cheap thrill out of chasing the cars and bikes; that joy of intimidation that is so like the humans. Even uncanny is the similarity with which the dogs scamper away at the slightest hint of retaliation. Aren’t humans the same? Absolutely! We try to intimidate those we think are weak and the moment we see somebody equal or stronger, we wouldn’t even dare cross their line.

I thought this is just another of those dogs, probably gone senile with the smug self-conceited notion of power. I passed this judgment with sheer dismissal, almost to the point of being arrogant ‘Mr Know it all’. But my arrogance shattered the moment I saw in my car’s rear-view mirror the reason for the dog’s agitation. A small puppy lay still in the middle of the road in a morbid lump that would make only one thing clear – One of us humans killed it and probably did not even care to stop.

I pass the horrendous sight of animals hit by vehicles on the highway everyday, make a small gesture with my hands touching my forehead and then my lips and within a few seconds forget all about it. So it was not a new sight by any standards. But this incidence shook my conscience and it was lasting sight in my memory. That ‘senile dog’ was probably the mother of the little puppy and wanted vengeance from its killer. Or it just wanted to get close to her baby and ‘lick’ her back to life. Or probably, it was wailing and wanted somebody to just listen to her. Would somebody stop for a minute or two? Would somebody catch the culprit and bring him to books? No, for killing an animal is not an offence and even if it was, nobody cares! All lives aren’t the same and certainly human lives are much more valuable. God forbid, but had this been a person, people would have gathered around - curiosity taking the better out of their urge to reach the destination on time. Somebody might even have taken the pains to trace the guilty and bring him to the books if he wasn’t the son of an “influential” person. But this was just a dog – one of those many hundreds of thousands of stray dogs that stay at the mercy of our civilization.

We often hear this expression “This country has gone to the dogs”. But honestly, we have no right to say that. We humans are probably the most apathetic bunch that ever walked on earth. Apathy is one thing we are so good at, not the dogs. Probably reaching office on time is much more important. That’s why I chose to drive on. But let us, for once, reflect on what we think is righteously ours and respect the same for others too… what if it’s just a dog!

The Journey

---- Written in November 2010----

It was going to be a long arduous journey. I had 3 days to reach the destination, yet I had no idea if I would make it on time. The destination: one of the farthest district of Bihar, which I never knew even existed on the map a few years back. And that too Bihar! - A place I thought would be fit description for hell on earth! Stereotypes, I know. And there I was, packing my bags for a journey into uncertainty.

My job was cut out. I had my sleeper class tickets booked on the morning of 25^th November, 2008, on a train starting from Surat, about 10hrs from Ahmedabad that would take me till Patna, about 10 hrs from Purnea! In short, about 1/3^rd of my journey confirmed. I had no clue how I was going to manage the rest 2/3^rd. I had my classes till 6pm on 24^th November and the safest train that would take me to Surat without many hassles, was scheduled to depart at around 8pm from Ahmedabad. Being the lazy bum that I am, I packed up my bags at the last hour, bunked my last lecture, and left MICA at around 6.

Of course it would have been much comfortable had I booked tickets for the train to Surat, but Nope! I wouldn’t book a ticket coz I was only a student and was saving money. So I just went to the station and bought myself a ‘Chalu’ ticket for Surat. And when I reached the platform, I was in for a big shock. There was reservation for the unreserved compartment; something sort of quota for a quota, as people had placed their luggage in lieu of their own selves, to book their entry slots. By the time, the Mumbai bound train came, it was already 2 hours late and I thanked god for making me wise enough to plan a four hour gap between the 2 trains. And so, I haggled my way into the compartment, trying to squeeze into one of the seats meant for 3 persons that was actually occupied by 10; I was the 11^th. No really I mean it! And the VIP briefs commercial “please adjust” was running over in my mind.

I tried my best not to think about the gruesome journey ahead, not think about how I would manage to go from Patna to Purnea, just savour the moment as if I was a warrior, an explorer, a fighter all combined into One, the Numero Uno. And just as I was making myself stronger, I felt a little weak. Yes, it was time to take a leak! And I was caught up in the biggest dilemma I faced in many years, “To sit with pressure or stand with relief”. Needless to say, relief was the only way out.

I reached Surat early morning, a good two hours before departure. And I was delighted to find empty seats in the waiting hall of the station. Suddenly, the wrought iron chairs seemed so much comfortable that I chanced a much needed nap on the cold rickety chairs.

In what seemed like a minute, I heard the announcement of my train arriving at the platform and I picked up my luggage. I boarded the train and occupied my seat, which was the side seat with side upper berth. There were about 12 people sitting in my 8 seat cabin. “Of course they must have come to see off their near and dear ones”, “Its just going to be a matter of 15-20 minutes before I can spread my legs” is what I told myself before the train began moving. And I realized I was wrong. “Soon the Ticket Checker would come and show them their rightful place” I told myself again, to be wrong once again. The TC came, he saw and he… well he went. The conversation happened like this…

Passenger 1: “Ee hamar saath hai, eeka kuch arrangement kijiye na!”

TC: “Aaj bahut bheed hai, tanik adjust kar lo”

Passenger 2: “Hamara seatwa confarmed hai, lekin hamare bhai aur ooki lugaai ka waiting hai. Eehan adjust kar lein”

TC: “Haan bahut jagah hai”

Well, the conversation was not so much ‘on the face' Bihari, and yes there’s a little bit of my own tadka to it, but I tell you, I was already smelling, feeling & living Bihar…. all this in Gujarat itself. And I told myself "Oh well! The journey has begun." One and a half days of train journey, meeting all kind of people- people packing their luggage in oil drums; people carrying oil filled drums. Why this fixation with Oil drums? Oh that’s very simple, one of the guys ruined my new sneakers by spilling oil over it while I was happily sleeping on my side upper berth. The best part- He claimed it was just his luggage.

It seemed to be a never ending journey, a journey till eternity when it finally ended, with the train arriving at Patna, exactly 3 hours late at 4 pm, squashing all my hopes of catching a direct train to Katihar or Purnea. I hoped to catch a bus from Patna to Purnea- My hopes turned to reality, I did manage to book a bus to Purnea. The catch- It was scheduled to leave at 8 in the night. I thought well 4 hours waiting is not that bad. So I waited for it and boarded the bus at 7:30. The bus left at 11:00.

The next thing I can recollect is that at around 6 in the morning on the 27^th of November, I was approaching Purnea. “Just 45 min” is what the conductor said, but I heard it as ‘just 45 seconds’. My patience had really grown over the last 2-3 days. I felt I could apply for the post of Dalai Lama.

At last, I reached the Purnea bus stand, which strangely looked quite familiar. Maybe I had really attained sainthood. Or maybe Bihar wasn’t so bad after all. It looked the same as Rohtak to me. I think I would have to change the location of living hell on earth. It would be… Uttar Pradesh. (Ok Shobhit, its not an achievement allright!!). At the bus depot, Shambhawi’s brother Ashutosh was there to receive me and even though I had met him for the first time, it felt so reassuringly good to get in touch with someone who atleast knew your name.

And so 27^th November it was… 2 years back… this date, that day… I was there for Shambhu’s shaadi.

A Very Happy Wedding Anniversary to the S-Quad (S-Quadà S- 4 timesà SS-SS à any more pointers needed?)

‘Champaign’!! Cheers to the couple!!

Testing Times

Do you have a fear? Maybe not so overt, but lurking somewhere over that teenie little corner of your heart? I guess everybody has that 'some' fear. It resurfaces at times when you least expect it to, and often in the most shocking ways. 

 I don't know when it first happened. I can't even trace back its existence to, and pin-point to a specific event in my life. But I always seemed to have this fear of missing an examination. And it haunts me, many a times. 

Last week, I was in Dehradun for my final evaluation of a six month long training. The evaluation constituted of an objective test to begin with, a presentation on a pre-assigned topic, a personal interview and the final conclusion with yet another test. 

 It went fine with the first test, though I never studied for the objective type questions. The test was more about answering the specifics of geology, geophysics, drilling, etc… in short, all activities related to Exploration and Production of Hydrocarbons. Kids' Stuff, provided you are prepared for it, OR you are a Geologist or Geophysicist, OR if you are smart enough to sit next to a Geologist or Geophysicist. As is always the case in India, the easiest way to subvert the system of meritocracy, is coalition. 

The presentation as well as the Personal Interview also went super smooth - few advantages of doing an MBA... that too in a crowd full of Engineers and Geoscientists, I felt like GOD! It was all smooth sailing and nothing could stop me. 

Nothing but the final test of course, I had forgotten all about it. Well how tough could the final test be? I have been an engineer, a software professional and an MBA. What fear can one test evoke? I was to find that out soon... 

The next day, we had a class. Some of the most intricate and treacherous concepts of petroleum exploration were taught in that, I believe. The instructor was going on very animatedly about the whole business, a rarity of sorts considering this was a very subjective topic, and my experience with all subjective instructors has been very subjective; they all are boring! But his enthusiasm couldn't stop me from doing what I love doing the best during lectures; Sleep. 

Suddenly there was a murmur and I realised the lecture had just ended with our task well cut out. We had to read the 4 page handout from the last lecture, and prepare for the final test, which would of-course be subjective. 

"Hah, Nailed it!", I thought to myself. There was a day off before the final test, for Dussehra. I could just have a glimpse of the handout and be a little prepared, just so that I'm not caught off guard, you know! 

When I read the first paragraph containing the introduction to geology (which we had done earlier but I had not read it), I was so fascinated with the concept that I thought perhaps it would be more prudent to read the earlier notes in more detail so that I can understand it with much clarity. I scurried through the pile of untouched course notes to search that topic, but I couldn't find it. I wanted those notes at any cost now. 

I went to my geophysicist friend who was as usual playing Badminton. "Hey Sudhir, do you have the notes of Introduction to Geology? I need it to get started with my preparation for the final test." 

"Since when did you start preparing for exams? And that too for the final one... Its not that important. Come yaar, let's play badminton. Who knows when we will get to play next?” he replied. 

Though I wanted to get on with the preparation, I saw reason in his statement. 'Who knows when we will get to play next’. I thought what the heck; anyways we have an off day tomorrow. I joined in and played my heart out. 'Who knows when we will get to play next'. By the time we finished playing, it was 9. Dinner time.

"Hey we are planning to go to Mussoorie tomorrow, wanna join in?" asked Shirin at dinner table. 

"But what about the test that's scheduled day after?" I said. 

"Oh come on! Since when did you start preparing for exams" she said. 

For a second, I thought I had a Deja-vu. “Ah well, wouldn’t hurt to go for a trip. I could read the handout in the night and a…”

“Bas bas… you are in now… call the taxi guy and fix it for tomorrow”

The reading in the night just didn’t happen. I got caught up fixing up the cab, and that too didn’t happen. It was like a final trip with friends from the training batch and was it not gonna happen just because we didn’t get a cab? Naah, I certainly won’t let that happen.

The next day I got up early and went to the nearest car showroom to buy a car.

“Buy a car?? Just coz you didn’t get a cab?? How sane is that?”, Sudhir asked

“Well I had been thinking of purchasing a car anyways. What better time than now!” I said

So I went to this car showroom, Volkswagon I believe, and bought a Beetle. A swanky, sexy, steel grey Beetle. I could see envious eyes fixed upon my new car.

The next thing I remember, I was in Mussoorie and having fun, roaming on the mall road, having Bhutta with friends. But something was bothering me. What was it? I just bought my dream car. I was having a perfectly good time with friends at a hill station. What could possibly be troubling me? 

And then it suddenly struck me. Today was not Dussehra, today was the day of the final exam. And not only had I not prepared for it, but I was miles away from the place where the exam was going to be.

I got into the car and drove back as fast as possible and reached the exam venue in a flash. I was already half an hour late though. I parked my car in front of a gate which had ‘No Parking’ written in front of it. I thought to myself if it would be safe to leave it here.

Just then, I turned around and found that my car was not where I had parked it. Instead, it was on the other side of the road. “Relax, I’ll park it in a safe place”, Sudhir said. But he wasn’t driving the car. He was controlling my car with a remote control. A Remote control?? And just as he was speaking of safety, he bumped my car into the side walls. I was agonized and pained, I was seething with anger. Here I was, already three quarters of an hour late and this 'stupid' guy just banged my new Beetle, that too using a remote control! Like it’s a toy! I rushed towards the Beetle and saw a massive dent on the side door. An ugly scratch just replaced the beautiful Steel Grey paint. It felt like someone had stomped on my heart and was squeezing it hard, till the very last drop. I just wanted to shout. I just wanted to cry. I didn’t know what to do. I went straight to Sudhir, snatched my keys out of his hand and bellowed at him “How dare you touch my babe, how dare you treat it like it’s just a toy. You have any freakin’ idea how dearly it cost me? On top of that, you didn’t let me study for the exam yesterday and today I’m late just coz of you… Blah Blah” and so my tirade went for another couple of sentences until words stopped coming to me.

Sudhir smiled and took out his mobile and played a song for me… ‘Sexy Chick: David Guetta ft Akon’

What freakin’ time to play a party number. And that was also the ringtone of my phone. The sound kept getting louder and louder and louder…

It was my phone… ‘Mom Calling’.

Shit! Its 9.15, and I’m still in bed and I had to reach office before 10. I was having yet another nightmare of missing an exam…

The first wish

So there I go, after years of thinking about starting to write on my blog, here I'm writing my first post.

I haven't yet decided what kind of stuff I'm gonna post here, but since its my own little space, I don't really think that its so important. Blah blah and Hula Hoop... wow, that suddenly sprang up and I guess I'm gonna use it as the title of my blog.

If you happen to have landed on this blog by accident...you don't need to worry... as one wise guy once said "There are no accidents!"

So, just before I wrap up my post, here's my first wish: "May this not be the last... Amen!"