Why we like Mumbai cabbies

So what if they’re calling for a flash strike this Monday to voice against their unmet demands? I like them still. Here’s why.

They’re honest: Well, most of them are anyways. They don’t misguide you when you ask for directions. They don’t drive you around to hike up the meter. They can be safely depended upon to drive to your destination late at nights, especially if you are alone and of the female persuasion. 

They have attitude: Who would not love the quick head gesture they give you to indicate their willingness to drive you?

They’re good conversationalists: They’re like bartenders who listen to your drowning sorrows. Crib about traffic, the rains, the potholes, or the politicians and they’re there to give you ear – and participate.  

They don’t look: And you know what I mean! They give young lovers space and don’t (or at least try not to) look into the rear view.

Their tricked-out cabs: The pretty decorations, psychedelic roof and its-so-cheap-I-love-it upholstery make the ride so kitsch-ilicious!  

Their music: We love their loud dhinchak stereo. So what if that’s static you hear in the background.

   

A tug at my heart

It’s only been 4 ½ months but it already feels like a lifetime ago. Flashbacks come and go. But the memory lingers still.

The rafting season is about to begin. And I’m itching to see how the river – that was frozen not 5 months ago – flows with full force. I want to go back and see how the ice, that had intimidated and excited us, thaws. I want to meet its people, who in the winter had carried the sun in their hearts, and who will now be warmer than ever.    

I want to taste the thukpa again and see how its taste has changed on my palate. I want to experience its buzzing streets, that in winter lay deserted. I want to feel the cool wind that brings with it green summer, that a few months ago had brought the winter chill.

A place that can be harsh, but equally loving. A hearth for the weary, but one that is only mine. A place that is no one else’s to sully. Or to triumph. That no one else can claim. A feeling that is only mine to experience.