January
2nd, 2013
As I landed to the familiar sights and smells of the US, the
only question nagging me was, would I be able to drive after a 5 week long
hiatus? In these 5 weeks, I had seen my share of rash driving in India,
wondering how people drove without lanes, never bothered to check their blind
spots, and rarely wore seat belts. I took a cab to where my car was parked, and
as usual, got into a conversation with the cab driver. He summarized his life
history in about 3 minutes, and asked me every possible question that I have
ever been asked by a cab driver. Am I a student? Will I be a (medical) doctor? Did
I get a full scholarship? Why was I single and living far away from home? The guy
from Afghanistan had 7 more siblings back home, and never went back ever since
he moved here years ago (I never ask why). And then he told me how he would
drive the same route everyday, for 5 months, because his son was getting a
heart surgery. He woke up at 4 am, drove 5-6 hours round trip, visiting his son
at the hospital every day. He told me he decided against a heart transplant for
Jamal. I told him it must be hard being a parent, watching your children
suffer. I told him that I would never understand what he must have gone through.
He told me that you learn to respect your parents more the day you have your
children. And then I saw his eyes glitter as he dug the picture of Jamal on his
iphone. I had expected him to be older, but Jamal had celebrated his first
birthday 2 days ago. He looked like a bonny baby, a cute little bundle of
smiles, the last person you would think needs a heart transplant. It’s amazing
how everyone is coping in their life, including a 1 year old.
“Is Jamal your only
son?”, I asked.
The cab driver smiled sheepishly, and told me how you are
not considered a man until you have a big family. Jamal was the third one. The fourth
one is on his way in 2 weeks.
He dropped me off to my car and left. I walked up to my
car nervously, loaded my suitcases, and prayed that the engine had not died due
to the cold weather. It took me about 20-30 minutes to feel normal on the roads
again, while I drove slowly and nervously, got honked at a couple of times, and
realized that I had forgotten I had to step on the gas and speed up. I was
consistently driving 10-15 mph below the speed limit.
Once I got comfortable behind the wheels, I started to
admire the landscape and the freedom I had left behind. Despite many plusses
that India is, low cab fares, being able to afford a driver, and so on, I always
lived with a feeling of dependence in India, depending on someone else to drive
me around. Sometimes the cab drivers refused to go where you wanted do, fleeced
you, and argued. Even when hiring a car and being driven around, the fun of
being behind the wheels was gone.
I turned left on a highway at a certain point when I saw
the car from the opposite flick his high beam lights at me. In the next 2
seconds, a flurry of thoughts crossed my mind. Did I forget to turn my
headlights on? (It was broad daylight). Was the guy checking his own
headlights? Was I speeding? Within 2 seconds, I spotted a cop car hidden in the
bushes. I grinned from ear to ear, now realizing what the driver was trying to
warn me about. Talk about skillful communication. Perhaps I should return the
favor to someone someday.
I reached home after 2.5 hours of traffic free driving. After
putting away the food in the fridge, I switched off my phone and slept for 10
hours straight. I don’t really remember the last time I had slept this long.
For the last two days, I haven’t been able to get the
song “Matru ki bijlee ka mandola” out of my head. Seems like it is time to burn
a new CD for my long drives.
sunshine
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