Spiritual Fridays: A few good taxi-men and the spirit of humanity

Fish Tales and Free Rides
He screeched to an unexpected halt and popped open the door for me. I hopped in without so much as a second thought. A rather strong scent of fish perfumed the interior, but I was not about to complain. Who doesn’t know how hard taxis are to come by these days, especially ones heading in the same direction you? I’m not sure who initiated the conversation, but the salt-and-pepper haired taxi driver, hailing from Punjab, was soon waxing eloquent on the worth of a girl child. He filed a suit against his daughter’s in-laws after they harassed her when she gave birth to a girl child, but let it drop when she decided to get a divorce and promptly married her off to someone else. He helped finance her studies till graduation, but wasn’t able to help her get into law school as she wanted. Is she happy now? I ask. “Yes, she used to be skinny like you, but now she’s a fat as a bullock,” he laughs.

He tells me his home is the perfect example of India’s multi-ethnic, multi-religious nature with Muslim and Christian daughter-in-laws (all of whom are treated with dignity and respect) co-existing in perfect harmony. Should his daughter-in-laws complain to him about his sons, his standard retort is, “Didn’t you know this when you fell in love with him?”
“Girls today are very different”, he complains. “In our days, if the salwar was a little short everyone would have had something to say. But nowadays they wear anything. Even my daughter complains about how different her daughter is.” As he tries to reverse his way out of the jam, a young boy slams a flat palm against the side of our taxi and shares a few not-so-polite thoughts. “See, I told you this whole generation is that way.”

His buzzing mobile phone interrupts our conversation for a few minutes. He hangs up in deep thought and proceeds to say, “Yeh zindagi ek khatarnak cheeze hoti hai (this life is a dangerous thing). Yeh Life Hai”. His unexpected and rather emphatic use of the English word 'life' in another-wise Hindi conversation, made me wonder if 'life' somehow makes zindagi more dangerous, but anyway, two seconds later we’re struck in another massive traffic jam. “The circle is just a few seconds away. You may reach faster if you walk," he says, surveying the traffic. I nod in agreement, look at the meter and reach into my bag for the fare. “No, he says, you don’t owe me anything.” I look at the meter again and tell him “that’s not true”. But he refuses to listen to reason so I let it go with a “thank you”.

“Bless you!” I’m thinking as I weave between traffic that will be stuck here for goodness knows how long. In a time when taxi fares are rising but paise-pinching taxi drivers won’t return the change they owe you, won’t go in the direction you want (despite the fact that you are paying for their services), will demand extra money if you make them wait for a few minutes or if you are travelling with a parcel, and seem to think it’s perfectly all right to be rude and uncouth, it feels good to know there are people out there who don’t think money is everything. I feel richer somehow. And you can bet I’m going to pay that richness forward.
–Averil Nunes

Auto-matic Respect
In the past few years it seems like the Patti Breitman and Connie Hatch best seller ‘How to say No without feeling guilty’ has become an integral part of the city’s autowallahs’ training curricula. It was a chaotic Monday morning and Mr. Murphy’s laws were chasing me. After hailing for an auto for almost 15 minutes, which was followed by ‘rejections’, I finally managed to get a rickshaw ride to office.

Once onboard, I noticed our man in a crisp, white uniform and thought to myself, after all, he doesn’t have to wriggle his way through crowded trains. He can choose his hours and who he wants to work with--a choice, I felt I didn’t have. I got off at my destination and the minute I stepped into office, I faced the wrath of my boss for having arrived late. Not just that, I realised I had left my phone in the auto. My world came crashing down thinking about all that data and my phone backup, which I hadn’t taken. Worse, I didn’t remember a single number except my home landline. The moment I called home, my father asked me to calm down and said that I have a visitor in my office reception.

I went immediately to find the auto wallah waiting with my cell phone. I felt relieved, and at same time guilty, for having judged him. Sheepishly, I pulled out a hundred rupee note as ‘bakshish’, which he immediately denied. That was an unforgettable day and despite the nay sayers, there’s still a sizeable number of good Samaritans around us.
–Sreekant Krishnamurthy

The Other Side and The Desire for Dignity
When people complain about taxi men (sometimes even auto wallahs), I often remember conversations with the drivers, the times they’ve told me of passengers who abuse them, beat them, run away without paying (excuses could range from "I don’t have money" to "I’ll just get some change"). Other times, they've vented in frustration about people who don’t understand when they say they want to eat, go for namaz, fill fuel, use the loo or have to return the vehicle to the taxi stand... “Aren’t we human too?” they ask. So sometimes I try to telling people about the other side. Sure, there are times when I find it difficult to get a taxi too, but I've had very few bad experiences with cabbies. Usually, the opposite is true for me. If fact, the number of interesting conversations I’ve had with them, including times when they have shown me goodness, may make some think I’m talking of a different city.

Just a couple of days ago, I was surprised to come by a parsi cabbie, who not only spoke fluent English, but also had a plant sitting on the right corner of his windshield, which also had a stand for his tea glass. It seemed like he'd turned his cab into a mini home. When I asked him about the plant, he informed me of how little we know of nature and spirituality, of how plants not only absorb all the carbon dioxide and release oxygen, but also absorb all the negative energy surrounding us and the negative spells like black magic too. The plant he says is his way of warding off negative energy of people he encounters while at work, including difficult passengers. He’s taking spiritual classes wiith Shiamak Davar’s institute; I would have loved to probe more, but my destination had arrived. I had to leave.

But that's not it.

A cabbie once insisted I don’t pay him simply because he could see how deeply upset I was; I hadn't spoken a word. Another time a cabbie seemed so happy with my Hindi and was so glad that I referred to him as bhaiya out respect rather than insult (used for people from UP) that he didn’t want me to pay the full amount. And just a few months back I was traveling from Nepeansea Road to Worli.  With election fever in the air I couldn’t resist asking the taxi man whom he’s going to vote for, whether he’s been tracking the party’s record, his opinion about the past and present governments and so on. At first he seemed very surprised that I was trying to have conversation with him and wanted his opinion, he even told me so. But soon he enthusiastically spoke of the government’s hits and misses, his hopes for the country, the need for vocational skills etc. By the time we reached, he had enquired about my work and views too. After paying him, I was waiting at the same spot for a friend to pick me up. Realizing that, he suggested I wait inside the cab instead of standing in the hot afternoon sun… I didn’t take his offer and he left, but the gesture stayed in my mind.
–Pooja Bhula
 

Coordinated by Pooja Bhula