“Prabhadevi, Siddhivinayak Mandir?”The only response I get is a trail of black smoke as the rickety taxi drives off.
This was a regular happening. People like me, who have to use public transport to travel short distances during peak hours, will empathise.
I’m one of the lucky few in Mumbai, who lives close to his work place. Usually, I can walk the 1 ½ km home, but there are days when I have to carry more than what can fit in my backpack. This was one of those days.
I shift the hefty bag of thick books from my left to right hand. The left hand should always be free to flag down an unoccupied taxi. Among the crowd of cars heading out of the island city, I see a taxi with its meter up. I don’t remember whether I started waving or praying first, but I seem to have struck the right combination as the taxi slowed down and stopped.
“Prabhadevi, Siddhivinayak Mandir?”, I repeat.
No reply, just a jerk of his head towards the back seat, green signaling my entry into this most coveted ride. I heave a sigh of relief and quickly get in. With a yank of the steering wheel, we join the moving parking lot.
In the 20 minutes that it takes us to reach my home, I thank the cabbie for getting me there. “Bahut kam taxiwale shyam ko chota bhada lete hai” (Very few taxi drivers agree to a short distance fare in the evening), I said.
“Main kabhi koi bhada mana nahi karta. Kya pata, aapko chodne ke baad mujhe lamba bhada mil jaye.” (I never say no to anyone. Who knows, maybe I’ll get a long distance fare after dropping you). I’m glad that he can see the silver lining on my dark cloud.
We reach my destination and I hand over the fare: a Rs.10 note and three Rs.2 coins. As I open my door to step out, a man peeps inside and asks, “Saki naka?” The cabbie gives me a knowing grin and I return a smile of amazement.
Note: Saki naka is in suburban Mumbai, in an area called Andheri. It is 15 kms from Prabhadevi, and would be a fare of approximately Rs. 250 during peak hours.
