Mumbai - An Addiction
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
On the Job Training
Being so used to traveling hither and thither in autos, I never thought that I would have a near-death experience in one of them. Ok, I am exaggerating. But ask any foreigners who travel in an auto for the first time. The way they swerve in and between cars and trucks and buses, you just have to hold on to anything within grasp real tight and pray. Larry Page and Sergey Brin probably got one of those calm, meditative drivers to have been so impressed with the machine.
So on this particular day, I took an auto from Bandstand to Vile Parle. The autowallah, surprisingly, didn’t know the route and told me to in a very pleading tone, “Sahab, raastaa nahin pata hai.” I asked him if he knew the road to the highway and he replied in the negative. I berated him for being so ignorant! What autowallah doesn’t know the road to the highway! I took the auto nonetheless and kept giving him directions.
It was on the highway that I noticed that something was amiss. The driver kept the auto on the extreme left and was riding almost at 20 kmph. While the drivers with the Schumacher trait can be scary, I didn’t appreciate such cautious driving. And plus there was a flyover coming up and the driver didn’t show any indication of taking it. I told him, “Boss, woh flyover lena hai. Itna left mein mat rakho gaadi ko.” And he changed to the lane on the right, immediately, and sharply. I rocked to my left. And then I gave him a piece of my mind.
The driver didn’t get aggressive or defensive in return. In fact he was shit scared himself. He meekly said that it was the first time he was driving on the highway. Shit! I couldn’t shout at him anymore. I didn’t want my life to be in the hands of a nervous-wreck auto driver. I told him to go slow. And soon we got stuck in traffic which made the rest of my journey safe. When I got down, I gave him some tips about how to go about learning to drive. Not that I have driven an auto, but be it a bike or an auto, the fundamentals of learning remain the same.
And then I thanked God silently that there wasn’t any truck making a dash past us when he had sharply changed lanes…
So on this particular day, I took an auto from Bandstand to Vile Parle. The autowallah, surprisingly, didn’t know the route and told me to in a very pleading tone, “Sahab, raastaa nahin pata hai.” I asked him if he knew the road to the highway and he replied in the negative. I berated him for being so ignorant! What autowallah doesn’t know the road to the highway! I took the auto nonetheless and kept giving him directions.
It was on the highway that I noticed that something was amiss. The driver kept the auto on the extreme left and was riding almost at 20 kmph. While the drivers with the Schumacher trait can be scary, I didn’t appreciate such cautious driving. And plus there was a flyover coming up and the driver didn’t show any indication of taking it. I told him, “Boss, woh flyover lena hai. Itna left mein mat rakho gaadi ko.” And he changed to the lane on the right, immediately, and sharply. I rocked to my left. And then I gave him a piece of my mind.
The driver didn’t get aggressive or defensive in return. In fact he was shit scared himself. He meekly said that it was the first time he was driving on the highway. Shit! I couldn’t shout at him anymore. I didn’t want my life to be in the hands of a nervous-wreck auto driver. I told him to go slow. And soon we got stuck in traffic which made the rest of my journey safe. When I got down, I gave him some tips about how to go about learning to drive. Not that I have driven an auto, but be it a bike or an auto, the fundamentals of learning remain the same.
And then I thanked God silently that there wasn’t any truck making a dash past us when he had sharply changed lanes…
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Death at a Ticket Window
Mumbai, a hurried, rushed up city! And there can be no place where this hurry and rush is better manifested than at a local railway station. And even the most polite, soft-spoken, and sensitive individuals drop all of that and exhibit petulance at the slightest of things.
I was at this ticket window. A person at a ticket window has one eye on the watch, following the progress of the second-hand very fervently as time races ahead and he stands the risk of missing his 8:28 train. The other eye is on the ticket counter, cursing the snail-paced person taking cash and distributing tickets. Tempers are at an edge. And there is an air that the slightest of provocation will result in bloodshed and riots. But then, we Mumbaikars are used to it. And if there is a provocation, then there is a 30 second altercation, some raised voices, a couple of swear words, and if someone has a sense of humour a bunch of sarcastic cracks, and the incident is forgotten.
I reached the ticket counter. And just as I was about to take my ticket, some guy, in his late 20’s came straight at the head of the queue to buy a ticket. People in the queue started shouting and yelling telling him to come in a queue.
“There has been a death in the family. That’s why I am in a hurry. Otherwise I always come in a queue.” He replied, quite courteously if you ask me. But then I had already got my ticket. Others in the queue were not so kindly disposed. One of them said.
“Death has already happened right? So what’s the hurry? Even if you reach late that person will still be dead. Come in the queue.”
Death. Such a painful thing. The greatest loss there can be. And something everyone is naturally sensitive about. But in the ticket queue, the excuse doesn’t hold ground. It’s ok for someone to die, but it’s not ok for someone to jump a queue. And it’s no fault of the person who made that statement. Because people regularly jump queues with excuses of an ailing mother and a dying uncle. And they feel it’s perfectly justifiable for them to think and say such negative things for the sake of saving five minutes in a queue at a railway station. That’s Mumbai life for you. Everything’s fair in love and war and at ticket queues.
Some people laughed. The queue jumper defiantly shoved his hand in the counter and took a ticket and left. Incident over.
I was at this ticket window. A person at a ticket window has one eye on the watch, following the progress of the second-hand very fervently as time races ahead and he stands the risk of missing his 8:28 train. The other eye is on the ticket counter, cursing the snail-paced person taking cash and distributing tickets. Tempers are at an edge. And there is an air that the slightest of provocation will result in bloodshed and riots. But then, we Mumbaikars are used to it. And if there is a provocation, then there is a 30 second altercation, some raised voices, a couple of swear words, and if someone has a sense of humour a bunch of sarcastic cracks, and the incident is forgotten.
I reached the ticket counter. And just as I was about to take my ticket, some guy, in his late 20’s came straight at the head of the queue to buy a ticket. People in the queue started shouting and yelling telling him to come in a queue.
“There has been a death in the family. That’s why I am in a hurry. Otherwise I always come in a queue.” He replied, quite courteously if you ask me. But then I had already got my ticket. Others in the queue were not so kindly disposed. One of them said.
“Death has already happened right? So what’s the hurry? Even if you reach late that person will still be dead. Come in the queue.”
Death. Such a painful thing. The greatest loss there can be. And something everyone is naturally sensitive about. But in the ticket queue, the excuse doesn’t hold ground. It’s ok for someone to die, but it’s not ok for someone to jump a queue. And it’s no fault of the person who made that statement. Because people regularly jump queues with excuses of an ailing mother and a dying uncle. And they feel it’s perfectly justifiable for them to think and say such negative things for the sake of saving five minutes in a queue at a railway station. That’s Mumbai life for you. Everything’s fair in love and war and at ticket queues.
Some people laughed. The queue jumper defiantly shoved his hand in the counter and took a ticket and left. Incident over.
Labels: death, Local Trains, Mumbai, queues, ticket window
Saturday, April 25, 2009
50 paise lesson
Very recently, they increased the price of a Goldflake Lights cigarette from four Rupees to Four Rupees Fifty Paise. An incremental value of Fifty Paise. And we were up at arms about it. Ok, maybe I am exaggerating a bit. But we didn’t like the price going up. And the tapri-wala our office folks buy cigarettes from is in some ways notorious for not treating his customers right. And we ranted the usual hassled customers rant of the price being Four Rupees everywhere else and all that. And then the tapri-wala said that we earn so much and what is fifty paise. It is going to increase today or tomorrow. And that… rankled us no end.
Even Bangalore auto-wallas are under the misconception that IT guys, irrespective of what level they work at, earn in millions of dollars, and use that as a justification for charging extra. “Tum IT wala itna kamaataa hai… dus rupye mein kya hoga?” And that one line used to infuriate me. And I had to count to about 100 to control myself from giving a straight-left on the auto driver’s nose.
Money is a very precious object for most of us. And we might be spendthrifts indulging in the weirdest of fancies and things which are of no possible use or entertainment to us, but it’s ok as long as we are ‘spending’ it. Charity is fine too. But someone demanding money from us just because we have it doesn’t go well with our sensibilities. Is it because we liken that to begging? Or stealing perhaps? But then the righteous side of us comes bubbling up, screaming that this is our hard earned money, a side that will not flinch when we buy a 100 Rs. Popcorn at a multiplex.
I don’t know the right answer. But I think it’s a primary instinct to protect our right of choice. When that gets infringed we jump about like cat on hot coals. And that’s exactly what the tapri-wala and the auto-wallas wanted to achieve. I have voluntarily given auto-drivers ten bucks extra over and above the legitimate fare when they have agreed to give me a ride late in the night when I am not getting any other auto. But that is my choice. As long as that is protected I won’t seethe.
And now, maybe having understood the reasons of the anger, I might not get angry when someone tries to touch me for extra money, even if it is fifty paise. I still won’t hand it out ofcourse. But knowing that I am choosing to not give the money, I will probably maintain my calm.
Even Bangalore auto-wallas are under the misconception that IT guys, irrespective of what level they work at, earn in millions of dollars, and use that as a justification for charging extra. “Tum IT wala itna kamaataa hai… dus rupye mein kya hoga?” And that one line used to infuriate me. And I had to count to about 100 to control myself from giving a straight-left on the auto driver’s nose.
Money is a very precious object for most of us. And we might be spendthrifts indulging in the weirdest of fancies and things which are of no possible use or entertainment to us, but it’s ok as long as we are ‘spending’ it. Charity is fine too. But someone demanding money from us just because we have it doesn’t go well with our sensibilities. Is it because we liken that to begging? Or stealing perhaps? But then the righteous side of us comes bubbling up, screaming that this is our hard earned money, a side that will not flinch when we buy a 100 Rs. Popcorn at a multiplex.
I don’t know the right answer. But I think it’s a primary instinct to protect our right of choice. When that gets infringed we jump about like cat on hot coals. And that’s exactly what the tapri-wala and the auto-wallas wanted to achieve. I have voluntarily given auto-drivers ten bucks extra over and above the legitimate fare when they have agreed to give me a ride late in the night when I am not getting any other auto. But that is my choice. As long as that is protected I won’t seethe.
And now, maybe having understood the reasons of the anger, I might not get angry when someone tries to touch me for extra money, even if it is fifty paise. I still won’t hand it out ofcourse. But knowing that I am choosing to not give the money, I will probably maintain my calm.
