Wisdom in a taxi

One of the ways I attempt to alleviate tension in my life is to identify the stressors and eliminate/reduce them consciously. While I do drive, and am confident about driving, parking can be a downright headache in Chennai. I decided a long while ago that if I am traveling to a place with unknown/unfamiliar/unsuitable parking topography, I would use taxis to get there and back. Less anxiety, more fun.

While this has some pitfalls of its own, it does have beneficial side effects, as I experienced again last night. After a contemplative concert sans microphones by Sri. Ramakrishnan Murthy at the Asian College of Journalism‘s new acoustically designed auditorium, I booked a taxi for my daughter and me. We had a 20 minute wait during which, based on past experiences, I worried if our driver would cancel on us. I requested him specifically to let me know if he intended to do so.

When we got in, the driver, Suresh Kumar, a very polite and courteous gentleman, wanted to know why I had been concerned about cancellation. I told him of previous incidents. He assured me that he had never cancelled even once though some customers had done so. Now, I am talkative (as pretty much anyone who has spent more than a few minutes with me will testify to), and I, of course, chatted with the driver. How long had he been driving? Twelve years, he said, but only several months as an Uber driver. He mentioned that he had run a fleet of cars earlier but due to a very severe accident (a van ran him over whilst he was walking on the sidewalk), he had incurred medical expenses of Rs. 30 lakhs and was now starting over after selling everything he owned. I told him that he was really fortunate to be back to complete physical normalcy since that trumps everything in the long run. He acknowledged that saying that if he was to die, he should have done so at age five.

His family had resided in Andhra Pradesh then, in areas with Naxal infiltration. On that fateful night, his parents and second younger sister were killed during a burglary at their home while he providentially escaped. He and another sister (who had been residing in Chennai) were raised together by their grandmother. He studied only until 3rd Grade since someone had to earn a living. He educated his sister who is finishing up her undergraduate degree now. He explained that his grandmother too passed away a couple of years ago. His sister fell in love and had wanted to get married but he suggested that she finish up her degree first just so she had some personal security too, and that he would help her however he could.

My daughter, who listened intently, was aghast. When we got off, she said, “Amma, we should always feel good about what we have, shouldn’t we? Look at how this man is so cheerful despite everything”. Indeed.

Most of us feel sorry for ourselves every once in a while. This occurs more frequently these days when we see everyone posting only happy moments on Facebook, Instagram or Twitter. While we all know, rationally, that they too must have sad and negative times, when we see only terrifically cheerful posts, we wonder if, perhaps, they are happier than us? We ask ourselves why, despite the highly – moral, principled, religious, ethical, entitled, health conscious – (fill in the blanks with appropriate permutations and combinations) lives we lead, we have to go through ‘difficult’ times and how or why we do not deserve it. And while philosophy offers several explanations for the same, many of us are unable to philosophize at such times. Practical pegs of contextual reality, on the other hand, are most helpful.

We reflected on how we should try and always look at the glass as half full – and how pondering on such stories whenever we felt bogged down would give us the needed perspective. If, after such arduous experiences, Suresh Kumar could stay the positive, cheerful, courteous person he was at 9.30 pm after over 14 hours of city driving, so can each and every one of us.