Thursday, December 18, 2008

Give and take

Comeuppance

Its a national syndrome with the rickshaw drivers. They refuse to ply short distances, demand exorbitant fares, drive recklessly and are in general abusive. The only time I care for their existence is when they get in my way or during the once in a while trips to the railway station. But Amudha's story is different. She has to deal with them at least thrice a week. Her gym is in a so near for a ride yet too far for walking kind of location. Given she leaves at 6:45 AM its a foregone conclusion that I can't help her. At that time of the day or should I say night, nothing can keep me outside my quilt.

She has to deal daily with the drivers in the rickshaw stand next to my house. For a 10 minute 30 bucks ride they usually either turn her down or quote 50 to put her off. And given the way unions work, its more or less the same set of drivers in that stand so they know her by sight and also where she wants to go so early in the morning. There is one particular fellow who steadfastly declines her request saying he doesn't get a ride back from her gym because its so close. So I was surprised when I heard she approached him the other day. He must have been happy to hear the first part of her statement although I'd have loved to see his face after the next. "I have to go to the railway station. I will not ride in your rick, but wanted to tell you I'm going far."


Unfair Exchange

The thing with regrets is that it usually serves no purpose. To make someone else believe you see the folly of your actions or to appease your own conscience, saying that you are sorry might be sufficient at times. But actually feeling remorseful is something that you can only go through personally. I had one such humbling experience recently.

Driving daily to the office through the chaotic traffic is one thing and having reached there, going to the parking lot is another. In the wake of terror attacks elsewhere, security had been beefed-up at the entrance. What it means is an extended waiting period often on the road. The days when there isn't a huge pile of cars ahead of me are far and few, so I gladly welcome those. It was one such day that I encountered a van parked right at the turning of the entrance driven by an elderly gentleman.

"Do you have any sense?" I bellowed, regretting the choice of words the moment they left my lips. I didn't need Amudha's sharp rebuke asking if that is the way to talk to elders. It didn't help to see the hurt in his eyes while he responded with, "no, but I'm sure you have all of it." I tried several reasons in my head to justify the outburst, but they all sounded hollow leaving me acutely uncomfortable.I spent a miserable morning fidgeting at my desk, unable to forget the face or forgive myself. The only thing I could recollect were Omar Khayyam's words :

                                     The moving finger writes; and, having writ,
                                     Moves on: nor all your piety nor wit
                                     Shall lure it back to cancel half a line,
                                     Nor all your tears wash out a word of it.

3 comments:

Rajasekhar Kandalam said...

Dude, itz good to see you write something sentimental......

....keep rocking!!!

Amudha said...

Do I see crocodile tears?? :P

Anitha Vivekanandan said...

Couldn't help laughing at what ammu said to the richshaw wala!!! ha ha ha!! good one :-)