Super impressed with Mumbai’s public transport, I sold my rickety Maruti 800 in Delhi when moving to Mumbai in 2008. It worked out fine because my husband and I landed up working in the same area and drove to work and back together.
This happy and romantic to and from continued till I changed jobs in 2010. While my previous job was on one end of Mumbai, this one required me to travel to the other. Fort, to be precise. Fort is in town. For those not aware – autos are restricted from entering town – that is Mumbai south of Mahim. I will manage cabs, I told my husband confidently. Easy to find, no parking hassles!
In the lane outside my home there was a cab stand (kaali peel taxis, there was no Uber Ola then). So when I burst outside on the first day at 8.30 am, rudely awakening to the fact that life no longer entailed getting out of bed at 9 and being ferried to work by the hubby, I was very, very glad to see one lone cab standing there.
Fort, I cried, flying into it.
Yes, nodded the cabbie, continuing to wipe his taxi’s windshield with a cloth which was clearly in the wrong job and was not achieving much. I waited with bated breath. And while I waited I did what most of us do while leaving for work on the first day to a new place. I imagined myself to be the highest performer this next year with the CEO herself congratulating me on my fabulous performance while handing out my big, fat increment letter.
Oh yes. This corporate ladder I was going to climb really fast.
But wait, we haven’t even started yet. How am I going to get a big, fat increment if I’m late on the very first day?
So I stuck my head out of the window and yelled. Bhaiyya, chalo.
I got a dirty look. And we started. At 10 km an hour. I am not joking. Every slow lane that this guy could find, he did. Every signal where we could have cruised by, he slowed and stopped. I simmered and it had nothing to do with the temperature outside. We finally reached office just in the nick of time.
The really-early-waking-up taking it’s toll the next day, I burst out at 8.40 am into the lane and came to a standstill. Oops! Our man was there again. I swear I saw his eyes light up as he realized that this could possibly become an everyday affair. I dragged my feet up to his cab and stepped in and we chugged along again. I reached 10 mins later than prescribed time. Complete no-no on new job. New job with finger swipe system for attendance.
The third day I decided to be smarter. Hah! One taxi was not going to ruin it for me. In a land where taxis abound, why did I need to be dependent on one guy. I will find myself another taxi. Now our house opens into two lanes. Both lead onto the main road. It is the front lane that has the cabs, the rear lane mostly has private vehicles. I had my strategy pat. I was going to get onto the main road through the rear lane and hail a cab down. So I snuck out exactly as planned. Except you know how plans are. They tend to fall apart. No taxi. Only autos. Buzzing along looking as busy as bees. 2 mins, 3 mins…now what?
I had no choice but to eat humble pie and slink back into the front lane to my faithful cabbie.
For two months this reluctant relationship continued, complete with surprisingly interesting conversations, until I finally surrendered and bought a car.
