Recently, during a trip to Chennai in India, I was chatting away merrily with the driver of my cab. He was in the driver's seat of course, while I sat behind. This man has been driving for 25 years, he is raising 2 daughters and lives with his wife. His dreams are simple. They are more singular than plural.
He wants to give his daughters an education. His smile never faded as he tried to describe, with a perfect blend of mellowed pride, some of the famous places we crossed on the way in his broken English, and also talked to me about his family. He learned English without reading books, first by listening to people who always sat behind in his car, and then by trying to strike a conversation with them.
He wants to give his daughters an education. His smile never faded as he tried to describe, with a perfect blend of mellowed pride, some of the famous places we crossed on the way in his broken English, and also talked to me about his family. He learned English without reading books, first by listening to people who always sat behind in his car, and then by trying to strike a conversation with them.
He also pointed and showed me the area where he lived, and told me that he commutes from there to the hotel he works everyday by an ordinary bus. I asked him how long it took him to commute and came to know that he starts at 4 a.m., has to change bus once, walk some of the way, and reaches the hotel a little before 7 in the morning.
It took less than an hour in the air-conditioned car ...
Life can be humbling at times. Talking to his man, I felt happier than talking to so many Tom, Dick and Harry's, who claim to be the bigwigs in the driver's seat, and own a lot of fancy things, while taking the back seat always.
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