It was 2 am in the morning. The Indian bureaucracy was probably celebrating the 61st Independence Day, or probably they had not even realised that wewere already in the 61st year as a free nation else I would not have been there sitting in a pre-paid cab stuck in knee deep waters in the middle of nowhere. This was the last I could have expected after my ordeal to reach home for that extended weekend (Those of you who are still figuring out what I am referring to may please refer to my earlier post). If I look back at it now, I am reminded of that song from popular film Mughal-e-azam “ Jab raat hai aisi matwali to subah ka aalam kya hoga !!”
Such had been my plight ever since my flight had a touch down at The IGI Airport.
The Arrival lounge was unusually crowded. I thought may be Delhi has now opened the arrivals to visitors but I was proven wrong when I saw the long queues at the pre-paid taxi counters. Then someone got the news from the counter that the whole of Delhi was enjoying heavy rains and the Delhi drains had refused to let go the water that they seldom get to feel (other times it’s the solid waste). And all the vehicles in a radius of 7 – 8 Kms were having a holy dip in these monsoon waters. So we waited. At the stroke of the midnight hour when the world was asleep (and India had awaken to freedom and glory at the same stroke some 61 years back) I got the parchi which was my boarding pass for the pre-paid cab ride to Faridabad. After another half-an-hour-long queue I finally managed to get a cabbie for Faridabad.
The journey was quite un-eventful, initially. For the next one hour the driver waded through thick traffic and I was getting restless. I was not being able to understand whether I was hungry or sleepy (probably I was both). I had a company of another passenger who was going to Sector 30 and we both had some small moments of discussions on the way. I dozed off soon.
The gentleman guided the driver to his destination and then directed him the way to my place. In the dead of the night at 2.30 one should always expect a driver to loose his way and the same happened that fateful night. Luckily, we spotted a sardaarji (with due respect to be called surd) and he was kind enough to direct him again. However, the poor soul, tired after almost a two hour drive got scared when he saw the road ahead filled with water and in an unsuccessful attempt to protect his rozi-roti managed to get the car stuck in knee deep water. At such an odd hour whom do you expect to come helping? But then came the same surd, driving with a merry band of quite a few of others, all cramped in a small car. Initially they made fun of the driver but the very next moment they were all out in the water with their trousers folded upto their knees. One push and the car was out. I could almost hear the “Jo bole so nihaal…….” in the air. Not a single word was exchanged. None for help, none for thanks. As I stood there figuring out how to thank these gentlemen off they went in their small car.
I asked the cabbie, “What would you have done if these people would not have come? I would have called my family and be gone with them, what would have you done the whole night” Pat cam his reply, “koi aur mil jata sahib” and I could not stop admiring his optimism!!
Such had been my plight ever since my flight had a touch down at The IGI Airport.
The Arrival lounge was unusually crowded. I thought may be Delhi has now opened the arrivals to visitors but I was proven wrong when I saw the long queues at the pre-paid taxi counters. Then someone got the news from the counter that the whole of Delhi was enjoying heavy rains and the Delhi drains had refused to let go the water that they seldom get to feel (other times it’s the solid waste). And all the vehicles in a radius of 7 – 8 Kms were having a holy dip in these monsoon waters. So we waited. At the stroke of the midnight hour when the world was asleep (and India had awaken to freedom and glory at the same stroke some 61 years back) I got the parchi which was my boarding pass for the pre-paid cab ride to Faridabad. After another half-an-hour-long queue I finally managed to get a cabbie for Faridabad.
The journey was quite un-eventful, initially. For the next one hour the driver waded through thick traffic and I was getting restless. I was not being able to understand whether I was hungry or sleepy (probably I was both). I had a company of another passenger who was going to Sector 30 and we both had some small moments of discussions on the way. I dozed off soon.
The gentleman guided the driver to his destination and then directed him the way to my place. In the dead of the night at 2.30 one should always expect a driver to loose his way and the same happened that fateful night. Luckily, we spotted a sardaarji (with due respect to be called surd) and he was kind enough to direct him again. However, the poor soul, tired after almost a two hour drive got scared when he saw the road ahead filled with water and in an unsuccessful attempt to protect his rozi-roti managed to get the car stuck in knee deep water. At such an odd hour whom do you expect to come helping? But then came the same surd, driving with a merry band of quite a few of others, all cramped in a small car. Initially they made fun of the driver but the very next moment they were all out in the water with their trousers folded upto their knees. One push and the car was out. I could almost hear the “Jo bole so nihaal…….” in the air. Not a single word was exchanged. None for help, none for thanks. As I stood there figuring out how to thank these gentlemen off they went in their small car.
I asked the cabbie, “What would you have done if these people would not have come? I would have called my family and be gone with them, what would have you done the whole night” Pat cam his reply, “koi aur mil jata sahib” and I could not stop admiring his optimism!!
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