Let′s go in an Auto.

"I cannot say no. How could one say to no to women returning from work late in the evening? Pay me whatever you think is right. I really think it is unwise to leave women standing alone on the roads of Delhi". So, I gratefully sit in Rajpal′s auto-rickshaw (in Indian parlance, just auto) nearly after 45 minutes of hailing autos and bargaining for a price on a particularly terrible day for traffic in Delhi. One bus had broken down in South Delhi and the spillover was chockablock traffic jams until Central Delhi. Glad to have found a kind and considerate auto driver, I agreed to pay ten bucks more than what the meter would read at the end of the journey.

Typically in the time span that I wait for, hail, bargain and get into an auto Shahid Afridi manages to announce his retirement and return to international cricket.
(Image from the internet)

  

After the brief outburst on how women especially find it difficult to reach back home after dark, he fell silent. Rajpal came across as a man who had not been in Delhi for long. I ventured, "Are you new to Delhi? How long have you been around, driving an auto, here?" He clarified promptly, "I run a furniture shop in Kanpur. I just came to Delhi to retrieve my auto from the traffic police. I had rented it to my friend, who was booked under some charge of traffic violation. My friend couldn’t furnish the fine, so I had to come to Delhi, pay the fine and get back my auto. I really don’t know how people function in this city! Everything seems like a hassle and everybody seems to be in a hurry". I concurred with him. He continued, "My parents are in the village and they do some farming. I go to my home in the village every month, just roam around and sink in the peace. Kanpur is not bad either, but I do not think I can live in Delhi and deal with this madness everyday". Both of us shared a short, bitter laugh at the irony of being stuck in traffic while reminiscing about the serenity of the rural life. The horns wouldn’t stop blaring. Nobody was obstructing the path of the other. All of us were equally stuck and moving slow. Yet the honking wouldn’t end.

Anil Mehta, my auto driver on one of the following days pointed this out and gave an unasked for, but highly engaging lecture on law makers and law breakers in the country. Right what I needed on my way to work, at a Parliamentarian’s office! Oh, the irony again. Mr Mehta, deftly switching between Hindi and English, informed me that he has been driving in Delhi for nearly five decades now. He says that people don’t follow the rules only because the ones who set them are the worst kind of violators- the politicians and leaders. "Beti agar tum meri baat maanoge, toh main sachh batata hoon. Bharat mein sirf teen ratn they. Means diamonds, heere. Okay?" I probed him a little more; he seemed to be enjoying the company of an attentive listener.

"First- Lal Bahadur Shastri. Jaante ho?" I smarten up and say "yes, India’s second Prime Minister". "Correct. He went to broker peace in Russia and they killed him there. Woh nange aaye they, nange chale gaye. Par bahut ijjat kamaye unhone. (He came with nothing and left with nothing. But he earned a lot of respect.) Doosre they Abdul Kalam. Woh nange aaye they, nange chale gaye. Par bahut ijjat kamaye unhone. Teesre hain Vajpayeeji. Vo bhi kuch aise hi hain."

"I have seen a lot", he continued, "I have been driving around from a time when only Connaught Place, Chandni Chowk and Kamla Nagar were crowded areas in Delhi, but now you look around and see".

It almost seemed like déjà vu to me, when Shankar Yadav, another auto driver in his fifties told me the same thing just the day before yesterday. "You know", he started, "at that time only two cars used to run- Ambassador and Fiat Padmini. And there were two bikes- Bullet and Rajdoot. Ab toh tarah tarah ki gaadiyan hain. Log aise waise bhi paise kama lete hain. (People make their money through any means.) Those who are actually struggling in this country will never be able to afford any of this. I am just earning to see my three daughters do well. My son is working as a clerk already but it is in my daughters’ success that I will be able to take pride."

Shankar Yadav, from Varanasi, who says that he can understand the character of his customer just by looking at their face once.

"Daughters are really different. I am not telling that she has to study or work. But I hope that by the time she is done with her education, she knows her mettle and decides on her future accordingly". It was a breezy monsoon evening and I had just picked up a conversation with my middle-aged auto driver. We had bonded over an old 1960s song that he had been playing. It seemed perfect for a winding evening and the long, shaded roads of Lutyen′s Delhi. "Are you planning to get her married?” I asked worried. "No, that is not up to me. I strongly believe that it is in a person’s own character to do what they want in life. Depending on their maturity towards worldly ideas, their propensity to learn or earn, each one takes a different call. I will let her choose her own way out, once she is done with school". Some sagacious advice, this was. I asked him for his name, "Sant Kumar" he said. How apt!

Shankar Yadav again brought me back to the present; we were a few metres away from reaching my office. "You are also out working and away from your family. You go to work with an earnest heart and a sincere attitude, and that is all that matters". "True, true", I nodded in agreement. He added, "I like South Indians. They are honest and simple. Look at you, smiling even now. I just hope to meet nice persons like you every day". I beamed at him for offering me such a generous compliment, right in the morning. "It is also nice to find good and cheerful auto drivers like you", I returned, thinking to myself that the Universe indeed has mysterious ways of working. "We all exist with the same faith", he remarked pulling to a halt by my office, pointing to the message inscribed on his windshield. Ram Bharose, indeed.

I ride in an auto and the world rides on faith.

Bidding Goodbye

Over the last couple of weeks, I had to frequent the airport thrice to see off friends embarking on a new journey- either for their new jobs, or further studies, or just explore the world and themselves through it. In one case I just about hurried to see my friend through the gates and bid him goodbye. In the other, I travelled the entire way to the airport and then saw the friend off in great leisure. Lastly, I arrived at the departure area even before my friend did and waited to say goodbye to her.

It was in during the wait, that a casual observation of the people around me sparked a host of reflections and introspection on the eventuality of goodbyes and our complex human natures. Like islands of clarity in waters of stormy thoughts, my brain (and heart?) picked on a lot many signals in the cacophony of the departure area.

First there was the reticent son who had to leave for work. His mother, father and sister had come to see him off. The mother kept giving hugs at regular intervals, while the father just teared up a little bit and waited by the side. After the sister was given the friendly nudge and an awkward "take care", it was the turn of the father. The father gave a brief hug and both the son and the older man patted each others′ back so many times, I wondered who was reassuring the other.

Next was a young lady, in the company of her excited parents. The mother showered her with many kisses and the father hounded the passers-by to click their family photo at the gates, with the luggage trolley and the whole works. The daughter was clearly embarassed to be the centre of attention for what she hoped would be a sombre farewell. The father had only started. With the weight of a looming goodbye bearing on their shoulders, he nudged them for a selfie. He had to. They put on their best smiles, which quickly disappeared in the apprehensive eyes that just couldn′t tear away from the glass doors, even long after the daughter had disappeared into the travelling crowd.

An old couple that silently watched them all with me, abruptly got up from my side, acknowledged a goodbye with a brief nod and parted ways. The husband was taking a flight to meet his son in some other continent. The elderly woman just sighed and walked away into the distance without once looking back.

As I waited for my friend, I wondered about these goodbyes. Whether it is for durations short, long or forever, said or unsaid, on a note which is happy, so-so or sad, goodbyes are always overwhelming. I remembered some of my goodbyes, naturally and thought of all the people in my life.

There was that really close school friend to whom the goodbye was just the way of picking up the conversation next time from where we left now. Except that the distance of time and place has sealed childhood bond with only memories of the past. She is busy in her world and I am in mine.Then I thought of other goodbyes, which were naturally followed by immediate hellos, because we never lose touch with some persons. Coming to think of it, the "goodbye and good riddance" ones I have hardly experienced. (Maybe some would have saved that for me) Mostly, only because they were unsaid but understood. The heaviest of them all had to be the unsaid goodbyes.

I spoke to my grandmother quite often in the last few months of her life, she was then battling cancer. Every phone call was a slow race towards bidding that one goodbye. Nobody wants to reach the finish line here. Then I thought of another school friend and then, my father, whose time for a goodbye never really arrived, but they moved on anyway.

Like the airport, I wish life too had an acceptable emotional baggage limit. And strictly only that much should be permissible on journeys. The goodbyes are overwhelming because we are weighed by the emotion of it. The baggage does not lug us so much as the burden of waiting with it until we meet next.

Well, my friend did arrive and the customary hugs and easy jokes smoothened the process of a hard goodbye. The security net of an all-pervasive communication technology never really renders people distant actually. Yet, you should have seen the teenager group that came to see their friend off. Amidst the loud sobs, there was a ringing cheer when she was wished the best for her college abroad.

Goodbye, funnily, is just the reduced word for "God be with you". Then, we are never really on our own. Are we?