Love them, or hate them, but you just can’t do without cabs.Agreed, that you are quite a pro at zipping around town in your hot pair of wheels, but you can’t take them everywhere.
Say, you have a flight to catch, and attend a meeting with the company’s head honchos, as soon as you alight.(Of course, I don’t mean at the airport, silly. I mean at the office).
So you have three ways to reach the airport: a) Request (and if that doesn’t work, plead with) a friend / sibling / cousin to give you a free ride (works more if you happen to be the fairer sex) b) Take a chug-chugging green and yellow monstrosity(often referred to as an auto) – if you turn up your pretty nose at this humble three-wheeled vehicle, then that brings you to option c) Hail(or more often) dial a cab.
So you press the number on your mobile, haggle with the guy on the other side about the fare, and soon (?), a taxi arrives on your doorstep. Or maybe, you flag one down the street (this works best for those who believe in traveling light, not for me, who packs her entire world into a suitcase that threatens to pop-open at any minute).
What follows next is beggaring description.
To cut a long story short, you sit huddled in the cab, your heart in your mouth, seeing concrete jungles, children, beggars, other automobile drivers, trees, temples, and shops, go whizzing by
You, in spite of being a confirmed atheist, murmur a silent prayer.
It seems to you that the cab driver is either a Formula 1 racer (in disguise, of course), or probably sitting on a pile of hot coals, and driving.
What else could be the reason for his mad need for speed?
Oh oh – it could also be, that he is a sadist, who is getting intense pleasure from seeing your obvious discomfort.
To make sure that he is not silently laughing at you, you open one of your tightly-closed eyes, and take a quick peek into the rear-view mirror. No such luck – the bloke looks as if he is in one of your trance parties, oblivious to everyone around him.
Trying to appear nonchalant, you muster up enough courage to ask him (good naturedly, of course), if he minds not pressing on the accelerator pedal so much.
There is a screech, the car halts, and the cab guy looks behind at you, a sneer and a question plastered all over his face.
Now an unpleasant argument is the last thing you want at that time
You cast a quick look at your watch – you have to board your flight in the next 30 minutes
Hastily, you ask him to resume his (insane – this to yourself) driving, and settle back in the backseat, albeit shuderingly.
20 minutes later, a shaken you is deposited at the airport.
You check for broken bones, and upon finding none, marvel.
(Also start thinking that there IS a God up there).
End of story..?
Nah.
With the number of BPOs, KPOs, e-learning solutions companies, and numerous other business outfits that provide conveyance to employees, how can you be left in peace?
Things get worse if it ain't feasible for you to drive to work everyday.
So there starts your daily relationship with workplace cabs.
Cab drivers are notoriously reckless, weaving in and out of traffic, causing endless worry to motorists, pedestrians, and their own passengers alike.
They toot horns at places where they aren’t supposed to (read schools, hospitals, etc.) – you would think that they were born with a loudly-honking horn apiece.
But when they are taking dangerous turns, or crossing T-points, they stubbornly refuse to honk
As far as indicators are concerned, hey, aren’t those for idiots?
Swerve to the left, swerve to the right, heck, swerve anywhere, who needs indicators anyway, that is their motto.
Speed definitely thrills – no matter how weather-beaten their cab, they have this inordinate hunger for speed, and insist on racing with any and everyone, overtaking all those who “dared” to compete with them.
Music is of course, de-rigueur.
So, they “let the music play.”
And some music it is, definitely.
With various radio stations spoiling the listeners for choice, the cab drivers are experts on changing different stations, and putting those numbers, that you completely detest.
All your pleas for reducing the volume, or changing the odious number, fall on deaf ears, and you settle back into the backseat, a look of resignation writ large on your face.
You hang on for dear life, imagining gory scenes of accidents, corpses, and collissions (shudder)
Finally, you arrive on your doorstep, completely exhausted(not with the day’s work, but from the one-hour traumatic drive).
The day draws to a close, and you are comfortably ensconced at home, sipping your evening cuppa.
Tomorrow is another day.
Dekhi jayegi!
