The TAXI DRIVER'S happiness

Train journeys are awesome as long as I own a window seat. Breeze brushing my face, creating microscopic tornadoes in my messy hair. It gives a complete Bollywood touch. It’s a perfect place and time to write my experiences of yesterday.

   It was a partly cloudy day, windy occasionally, perfect for shopping. My friend and I were returning to the hostel after having spent a good lot of time in D-Mart buying stuff. We called a taxi although it was strictly against our natural tendency of covering distances on foot but the stuff was too heavy for us to carry. We placed out butt in the taxi seat and our eyes on the meter. The driver seemed to be damn busy on phone calls and with each call we were worrying about the fare. And I was quite angry with the driver.
But something highly unexpected took place.
   Finally, when the driver seemed to have temporarily dealt with all his calls, he wiped his eyes with his sleeve, and said, “ladka hua hai, namaskar”. I could clearly see the sparkling tears that had formed a hemisphere around his eyes that were red with emotions and tiredness. There was that jubilant, triumphant smile of a warrior on his lips. He was one, indeed. His happiness was overflowing.



   But as it is said, "happiness always comes with a price". The price he had paid was very high for us to understand or estimate.

    He continued telling it was his first child, 14 years after his marriage. He had suffered a lot of sarcasm and innumerable taunts from the society for not having a kid. He was mocked at in public by his friends. Even his very own father censured his marriage and advised him to get another woman for himself. But he left his home instead of his wife. “10 saal se khana banaa rahi hai mere liye, bartan maanj rahi h, saab”, he spoke with a choked throat, “Jab sath chahiye thi to sath thi. Aaj jab use zarurat hai to ese kaise chhod du? Aurat hai na bichari, saab, sahna use hi pdta h. Baba ye nahi sochte ki usne chhod diya hota to mai kya karta?”
But it was not the end. As it is said, “tragedies never leave your back”.



 At first, it was supposed to be a normal delivery costing approximately Rs25000. But he had managed to arrange Rs50000. So he planned use that Rs25000 in taking care of the baby and mom and also spend a little on the maintenance of his rickshaw. But then hospital told him that there were complications that demanded caesarean and it would carry an expense of Rs65000. He was dumbstruck, speechless. He had no idea of what to do next but he had to do it quick. He pleaded to his co-workers and companions as mere requests were of no use, and arranged Rs10000. “I had to earn Rs5000 now, I concluded”, he told us. While he was narrating all this, he had been sleepless for straight last 48 hours and had fever. But, he had almost earned the last Rs
5000 and would go to the hospital right after dropping us.
His eyes were still wet.


   I was moved. Sometimes life hits you quite badly and howsoever cruelly it knocks us down we have to stand back on our feet again.
When life gives you shit, even if you can’t turn it into fertiliser, at least swimming into it is unaffordable.
He missed birth of his first child but ensured his safe birth and he worked very hard for it. He was a courageous man and a man of good character.



  When we got off the taxi, we shared sweets with him that we had luckily bought from the D-Mart and congratulated him once more. The lesson I had learnt was worth the Rasgulla, you know. I personally concluded two things. One, life is all about ups and downs, how we face it is up to us. Two, become so capable in your life that you don’t have to worry about money in the first place.



  There are a lot of inferences one can make from this incident and there are an equal lot of questions one can raise on the functioning of government health care facilities and private hospitals, the mind-set of the society.



  I will share my speculations in the next post. It may take some time because I am having my exams. Love you all…



  Good Bye.