Oi pilot!

An attempt to write down in one sitting how a day in a life of a motorcycle-pilot can be.

 

         Today, I am writing down something meaningful for the first time in my life.  It took me some time to get started though, and my wife is still wondering why I have decided to take my son’s pencil in my hands. But I can’t help it! My brain is clogged up with thoughts like never before. It has been an extraordinary day for the motorcycle pilot that I am!

      I have decided to stop surviving and start living. I have not read all the great philosophers that you might have, but I have had experiences. The ones that can change a life.

      It’s been two years since I started ferrying Mohanji to the temple every morning. He is the typical old aged guy that you see all the time; complete with a walking stick and a shopping bag in his hands. Not to forget, those thick glasses that sat on his nose! Well, I still remember they way I first met him. While returning home, I saw this old guy chasing down a pick-pocket with his stick. Yes, it was hilarious to see such a scene but I saw some extraordinary spirit in this guy. After he finally let go of the pick-pocket I decided to take him, free of cost. It was a decision that I would never regret!

     Today, like any other day he was the reason why I wake up with enthusiasm. Picking him up every morning and listening to how his day was is what makes me look forward to live another day. He tells me that he has only his wife to talk to. His kids abandoned him few years ago with pension being his only means of earning his bread and butter. But today was destined to be different. Mohanji never came. The only time this had happened before was when he had fallen down from the stairs, a year ago! I waited for quite a while. Growing impatient, I walked up to his house. To my surprise, there was a lock on the door. A few moments later, I came to know that he had passed away the day before.

    For a moment, I thought that a part of me went numb, something went missing. I never felt as hollow as I had felt at that moment. With a heavy heart and an utterly confused mind, I walked towards my motorcycle. I drove away in denial to the very same temple. I had to say a few prayers for my dead friend who had taught me enough already. Those two years, they just flew past my eyes. Sigh! I had to move on. Somehow or the other, I had to!

    The morning passed by and in a few hours I found myself resting near the beach with my tiffin box. I had a few minutes to have my lunch if I wished to bag a few decent trips. Then again, I got reminded of Mohanji.

      And then for the first time in my memory, I felt frustrated, as if a war was brewing within myself. So this was how it felt! For the past few years I felt no sense in feeling sad, depressed or lamenting over something. I accepted the fact that I’m here to eat and sleep, and perhaps feed my family. Where does the pain fit in? How does it matter when I barely manage to make end meet? And then, something weird happened.

     I cried.

    You might ask me what is so great in crying, eh? Have you anytime felt frustrated? That too in the middle of a crowd? Suddenly realized how bad things were? You must have! But today, the loss was unbearable. And without paying attention to all those people passing by, I cried out aloud. There I was, doing things that I never thought were socially acceptable. If babies can cry, why can’t I? If people kiss on a beach, no one cares. But if I cry at the same place, they all think that I’m gone mad. Some might think I’m suffering from a deadly disease. Makes me wonder, what is the difference between these emotions? People are at peace with happiness, aren’t they?

     But there was a gem that i unearthed from today’s experience. One should always express their emotions. Putting a lid on them, especially for years makes you less of a human. Someday, sometime they all are bound to burst out as a volcano. Some cry for attention while others cry hunting for peace. Emotions are meant to be expressed, not buried deep within.

     I love watching people on the streets. They walk, they talk and sometimes they run. While some run behind the busses that they are about to miss, others run like wild apes after money. I wish I could do something with my life, I wish I could be one of those rich guys……but….. Sigh!

     It was late afternoon, all that gloom had worn off. And I was out on the streets, doing my usual trips. Just after dropping a woman and her child at the bus station, I came across an unusual sight. It was a monk in ochre. Buddhist, if I’m not mistaken. And as I stared at him, I realized that he was walking in my direction. Ah! this day is already turning out to be impactful, I thought to myself. And yes, it turned out that he was new to the place and it seemed that he was here to meet a childhood friend of his who apparently lived on the other edge of the town. Not bad, I thought to myself. Maybe I can get some conversation started!

   As it turned out, there was no need for all of that. We soon indulged in small talk, good enough for such a long trip through the traffic. But as luck would have it, we met with an accident soon enough!

   With all those things that happened to me today, I was not in a right state of mind. Add to that, talking with a guy seemed to distract me more than usual today! With all of these things going against me, I crashed into a big car. At such times, it doesn’t matter how many potholes and stupid drivers one has evaded in his driving career. One mistake can spoil your life and the customer’s life too! All because of a mistimed brake, I crashed into the rear of that car. Both, me and the monk were thrown off the bike. Soon enough, a crowd gathered. The driver of the car came barging at me and gave me a slap. There was a huge commotion, but funnily I didn’t speak a word. I didn’t react at all. The driver, the rich man that he seemed he was kicked my motorcycle and after finding it futile to argue with me, just jotted down the registration number and vacated the place.

   I burst out in a smile the moment he left. I still wonder why I did that! Someone told me that when you get depressed, the craziness gets to you! Soon, we were on our way. Oh the bike! It wasn’t damaged a lot, just a dented mudguard and that’s all! In no time, our conversation was back on track. Just that it took a different route this time. It was about serious stuff!

    The monk first lauded me for my ability to stay calm in such situations. He was under the impression that I could control my anger and such. But he was in a state of shock when I hold him the truth. When I told him that the friend the ‘rich’ driver was once a best friend of mine. That I used to share my tiffin with him way back in school. That a lottery win has taken him where he is right now. Yes, that is the truth. I wonder how a friend could ever slap another.

     And the best was about to come! Soon enough, the monk told me about the Buddhist philosophy of ‘detachment’. All that he said was that once you are used to something like a material object, a person or a way of living, one should also make himself tough and brave enough to survive without that particular thing. He says that things don’t last forever. If even they look to do so, we shouldn’t be shocked it something turns against out wishes. One should accept such hiccups and live on! An old friend mistreating me was bad enough to shock me out of wits. But if due to certain circumstances things have turned out to be that way, I should do my best to get it back to good. Morals and values take a toss in-front of materialistic goals, he was saddened the most with this fact!

    The time had come for me to drop him to his destination. I just hoped that he too didn’t receive a cold shoulder from his friend. Then I thought if I really wanted to be a ‘rich’ guy one day.

    With all that happened today, it took time for all of this to sink in. But in the end, it all made sense. Here I am, facing a loss and nursing a slap which my wife still doesn’t know about. All I wish is that she doesn’t mistakenly assume that a kiss is what has given me a red cheek. My hands are aching now, I have written too much. Enough of my stories for now! That was a day in my life, not just another ordinary day.

Me, Lucky Laxman.

            ^{The story of a guy new to the city, who has travelled all the way to test his luck.}

    Hello! Myself Mr Lucky Laxman. I hail from my little village which you might have once heard of. Yes yes, the same one which you hear of when there are floods. Once I remember, a man was eaten by a tiger, and perhaps that is how you realised that such a place also exists. Maaf karna, I do not know whether you will like my story or if I cannot control my desire to talk. It is in my nature to do so! See, I do not know when I was born, they say it was when the cocks were crowing at the dawn of Diwali. I was supposed to bring good fortune to my family, which has not happened till now.
   That is what the milkman’s son, the boy who works as a clerk in your town had told me to tell a stranger if he asks me about me. But you seem to want to know more. So I will oblige, sarkar! All I remember about my childhood is that I was neglected by my parents who had to take care of five more children. Three of them were girls and I had a brother who was younger than me. Our father used to work on the farm. Nahi bhaisaab, we did not own a large tract of land (nor did we grow sunflowers like the fields in the cinemas that they show on the TV). My father was a labourer on the zamindaar’s farm. Being the only man in our village to have a radio set, I made friends with his son, but when they discovered our friendship, I was not given food for days at stretch.
        Soon, they opened a school in our village and they said that the babus wanted us to give us free education. But before I knew it, my sisters were married of for the lack of money to cure my mother’s illness. Like a tornado that steals away everything from you, my father decided to take my mother to her native village,which was a two day boat ride away. Little did I know that he had done so to prevent him from being hacked to death because of the debts he was already drowning in. Escaping in the night with the only piece of silver that we treasured, they left me alone. I was just 13 and deserted. The zamindaarsaheb  had no option but to take me under his umbrella, after all he had to somehow got back the money that he had lent! Now I think this has been too much, I talked too much. But fine, if you insist I will go ahead. Who is interested in my story? Phew.
     My life took a twist, for the good you might think. But no, I was the son of a coward all would say. Living in the staff quarters and being constantly abused by the other workers was not good idea too! Somehow, the kind wife of the zamindaar who was educated decided to send me to the school, where I was to learn what my name meant and wondered if my father ever knew why they had named me so. “Lucky!”, the lone teacher would call out to me while I used to wither to the pain of the cane stick which would heavily come down on my hand. My evening job was to take care the lone elephant that belonged to my landlord and sometimes I used to give rides to the village children too at a nominal fee. Yeah, although I was envied by all the other children, it was not as fun as you think it was. The elephant, used to be under constant frustration due to his strong will to mate, as I was told by the wiser people. But somehow, I managed to grow more and more attached to the elephant, and my schooling was going on fine, despite having to sit with kids five years younger then myself. Until the next big thing in my life happened.
     A girl happened. Yes, that is the last thing you and I would expect to happen to me. So what if I lived in a village? Can’t I do what all humans do? Or at least want to do? All the time when I was returning from my daily schooling to lead the life of a mahout, I did not know which life was worse as by this time, the enthusiasm of being in a school had nothing but drained down. School for me was nothing but another excuse to escape from a life of slavery and torture. But the thing that kept me going was the neighbouring grocer’s daughter, who was also in the same class as me.  Arre haan, I forgot to mention to you that girls are not at all made to study in our village, but due to the Panchayat’s move to give money and exemption from taxes the miserly grocer had decided to send all of his daughters to the school. And hah, the oldest was nothing but meat for my eyes. What to do sirji? I was growing up and could not take away my eyes away from her. And who knew, as shy as she might be, who could avoid my prying eyes? Yes, I was the hunter and she was my deer but things went so fast that I can’t gather enough courage to tell you about what happened next.
      It happened. It just happened. It happened one dark Navratri night, as I expected, no one bothered to know where I was, as far as I was not breaking into their houses or doing some nonsense that was typical of me. And she just decided to drop by to see my new shed, which shocked me. I’m just too shy to tell you what happened next.
      As you expected, it was only 5 months down the road when trouble literally knocked on my road. I was made an outcast, almost hacked to death one day when I tried walking down the road which was very much expected.I was just 17. Eventually, I was forced to marry her because of the the seeds I had sown. The miser got the dowry too, that is 3 years of bonded labour and as far as I adhered to the limits and toiled for him, he had no harm in calling me his in law. She was happy I’d say although our child was born stillborn. The other thing that happened was that I was evicted from my landlord’s house, just because I was a black sheep in the family, although I think he had used my services to his stomach’s fill (maybe beyond that too, I couldn’t count big numbers to take notice of that!). I was taken in by the miser on my daughters request, although he believed that a vermin like me could no longer be called his in law. I hardly get to look at her, let alone talk to her! I know that I was just being punished for what we I had done!

    Sorry Sir, I did not want to tell you all this, but what to do? I just can’t stop! By now you must be thinking that I am a good for nothing pest who had his hands  in messing up lives of many people, but wait! Every dog has his day! And how can I not take you through what happened next to finish of my tale? So here we go again!

   Remember the floods I was talking about? Yes, you must have guessed it by now how my tale will end, but still let me finish it. Last year as the learned men wrote on the newspapers, we were bound to expect heavy rains. But even the village elders, so as old as the village Banyan tree couldn’t believe their eyes when we had the storm blow our our hamlet. No, not that I thought that such an event would make any change in the way I lived, but I had lost all of hopes after being relegated to a near untouchable status in the village. The neighbouring river was overflowing with water and the sarkari dam broke. My friend had said that these city-folks were not to be trusted in this respect. He said all they did this was to gobble up money, not for the development of the poor.
     The neighbouring river had flooded, but till the time it managed to carry away our kaccha houses, we all had been relocated to a nearby hillock, thanks to the landlord's grace. Now comes the interesting part. How can this story end with out a good beginning? When will I live up to my name? As destiny could have it, the time was now! ‘Lucky’ for me, the sarpanch’s seven year old son, who was playing in their backyard was ignored by the people who were rescuers (As a matter of fact I am told that he had nine children!). The only time they realised this was when they heard a squeaky cry in the midst of the torrential rain that was pouring. As no one was willing their life, I could no longer let the window of opportunity close. The redemption time was here! I was not to be left behind. I just grabbed the old elephant, they let me do so as I was the only beacon of hope that they saw! And the rest was history. Although an elephant has less stamina, they are good swimmers like many other mammals. Years of experience came into play and the rest they say, is history!     Yes, you might have not got to read my name on the papers, but yes I got my lost respect back, and somehow I got my ‘wife’ back too. Here I am standing in front of you sir, nothing short of a young man all set to start a new life, all ready to make a new beginning and prove to the world that I can stand up on my own. Now tell me sir, what do you think about my story? Sounds like a film that they show at the chai-gadda right?

(This is an original piece that I have penned down. Although it makes me look like the Indian guy who writes palatable stories for the crowd, I have just experimented with most of my inspirations in here. Would like to thank the people who helped me write this and gave me feedback and also thank you for patiently reading it. No infringement of image copyrights intended. Your comments would be  much appreciated)