Here's to the Writers

Lately, the only thing that has kept me ticking is my rediscovered passion for reading.

I make a rather slow reader and quite an inconsistent one to add to the misery, but I can get as animated, as downcast, as appreciative and as critical of a book as my other serious counterparts. Books have impacted my life more than the events and I take a certain amount of pride in this fact. I also take full cognizance of the fact that more than the books, Its a set of writers whom I am offering this most preserved right over the principles of my life. I am ripping open my cerebrum before a person and allowing him to play with it. I am consciously opening it to the extent that future course of my life would depend on it. I am willingly putting my Right to Independent thinking up for grabs and it only makes me happier when somebody actually grabs it.

I have welcomed Rands and Orwells with Open arms, spent the lonely moon-staring nights with Ghalibs and Gulzars and after leaving many poorly paved roads half-walked, 've recently finished measuring the lanes of Maximum city Mumbai with Suketu Mehta. A good book can make me recognize a multitude of emotions I never knew existed. It can really exhort me sometimes.

Want to end this on a better note but in the absence of thoughts I will be content with just this one...Here's to the writers. :-)

't was nice meeting you

Wouldn't call it a hobby but a pastime, for sure. I like to interview AUTOWALLAHS. A class that leads a very monotonous and low paying life with income-rises barely tantamount to inflation and keep doing the same thing almost all their lives, In financial terms; the lower class people. There can be a discussion on if they are really Lower class or a bit better than that, but I would give it a pass for now.

I talk to them in different cities, different places of the same city, different times of the day and different states they are in; inebriated with country liquor, doped on grass, dozing in the noontime, waiting to go home at the late hours of the night or fresh out of the temple in the wee hours of a sunday morning. I watch them doing different things; throwing invectives at local policewallahs, cursing the errant bikers, talking about their supposed glorious past, worrying about their son's future, making lewd comments on girls, brazenly rolling the Red signals, surprising me with a deep civic sense and their take on good citizenship, pestering me with Half-return fare, talking to their clients in english on a mobile phone costlier than mine, handing me over their visiting card and what not. Believe me, its really interesting. Its a completely different world than you and I live in.

Yesterday, I was on Ghole Road, on my way to Aundh. I wave the Auto-Rickshaw, the guy sees me, flashes the left turn indicator and carefully changing the imaginary lanes, he comes to me and stops.

'Kahan jaayenge sir'.
'Aundh', I tell him, anticipating a call for half return fare because Aundh is on outskirts of the city.
But he simply downs his meter, politely asks me to get in and heads off without bothering me with that. I am pleasantly surprised.

Its a long journey and I am in a mood to talk.

'Pune se hi ho ya bahar se ho?' is always my first question.
'Sir, Pune se hi hoon', he answers with a natural marathi accent.

'Kitne time se auto chala rahe ho kaka', I add the salutation kaka just to make him feel comfortable and connected. This would have been tau in Muzaffarnagar, bhaiya in delhi and boss in Mumbai.
'Sir, 16 saal se' he pauses and..... 'Sir, kyun puchha aapne?' he asks, with a questioning yet smiling face, looking at me in rear view mirror.

'Aise hi puchh liya kaka, socha ki aapse baat ki jaaye'
He looks at me again, passes a comforting smile, nods and says, 'Achha hai sir, baat karna achha hai'

Then he tells me that most of his customers ask this question because they are happy with his driving skills and they want to know how come he drives so well. Its only then that I notice him steering his way across Puneri traffic with a masterful hand.
'Haan kaka, kaafi achha chalate ho aap'
His face lights up, he feels proud of himself and says, ' Haan sir, poore 16 saal ho gaye, main baaki autowalon se bahut achha chala leta hun'. I look at him. There is no sign of Boasting off, its a proud and fair acknowledgment of my compliment.

He then continues telling me that he had worked as a machinist for various companies. Tata Motors, Bajaj Auto, DGP hinoday and a many more. He tells me about how he was hired on a contract basis and was let go after a brief job stint every time. Then he changed jobs and finally became an Autowallah to become stable in life. Its very evident from his tone and accent that he is an educated man. I was really enjoying this session.

Then I throw another question about the Gunda Problem in the city. Do the goons trouble him with the menace called Hafta or do the policewallahs extort any money from him? I am happy to know that Pune is completely devoid of this problem. I have established this fact after talking to many Autowallahs. Pune is a real safe city in this way. What they earn belongs to none else. This is very different from Mumbai and Delhi where Gundas and Policewallahs constantly eat up part of their earnings.

Talking to him further on Pune traffic problems, how Pune was 16 years ago, the huge inflow of immigrants I finally reach my destination. I pay him, leave the rickshaw and start walking away.
He calls me...SIR...!!
I look back, go to him and ask What it was...?

He extends his hand and says 'Sir, achha laga aapse milkar'

A deep sense of professionalism, conviction, imbued in calm and layered with a natural reassurance, thats how he delivered this sentence. We get to hear this almost every other day. How-You-doing and Nice-Meeting-You are the most common greetings and parting words. But rarely does somebody utters them with that gleam in eyes and that natural eye contact.

This was doubtlessly the most Honest Nice-Meeting-You I was ever said to.