My Most Memorable Rickshaw Ride

“Bhaiyya, Bandra?” I asked.

At five-thirty in the morning, it was the only rickshaw around. Being winter, it was still dark, the sun hadn’t come up. His rickshaw was different from the rest. Not in the blue-light/Himesh-on-the-radio/weird accessories way. Well, it did have blue lights on inside. And Himesh Reshammiya was booming away on the radio. And there were Madhuri Dixit and Sridevi posters on the insides of the rickshaw. There were pictures of different Gods stuck, all in a row, just above his windshield, and rosary beads hanging from his rearview mirror. But all this is very normal in Mumbai’s rickshaws.

He sat there in the backseat, a fully grown man, probably just into his forties. He was not wearing the brown or white uniform rickshaw drivers usually wear, but was adorned in what could only have been his best pair of clothes. One trousered leg hanging down, the other was folded up on the seat. He was completely engrossed in reading a thick book he was holding in one hand, while the other had found its way to his groin, scratching rather rhythmically.

“Rickshaw?!” I asked again, a little louder, thinking he hadn’t heard me. I was going to be very late today. And today was not a good day to be late.

My 12^th Board Exams were going on, and so far I had managed to be punctual, but today? Today was my history paper (my weakest subject), and I had woken up late today itself.

He finally reacted the second time. He clucked at me, irritated, looked me up and down, and went back into his deep study. He had a small white cup of steaming hot chai lying precariously balanced between his legs. Honestly, I was a little jealous. What better time for chai than early morning?

 Noticing that I wasn’t going away, he asked me where it was I wanted to go so desperately.

“Bandra? Arre pehle bolte na!”, I had really hoped he wouldn’t refuse. However the mention of Bandra (my centre was National College) seemed to make him happy. He picked up his chai, put his legs down, and leaned forward.

“Bandra mein kahaan?”

“National College.”

When I told him, he just smiled, jumped out of the rickhaw, and said, “Baitho.”

He gulped down the steaming chai, made a strange hissing sound, and threw cup into a gutter. Even the engine hadn’t started, before he started conversing with me about where, how and why I was going this early to National College. He seemed visibly buoyed by my destination. These things are normal when you’re travelling in Mumbai, so I told him.

I found out why he had agreed so easily to go to National College when suddenly at Santacruz we reached a signal. He said to me “So, name five military functions of the President.”, through all those broken teeth. I was flabbergasted. As the light turned green, he handed his text book to me. Mr. Bhimsingh (the name in the book) had just shocked the daylights out of me. “Achcha, name five disciplinary powers of President.”

“Achche se padho beta, sirf pass hona kaafi thodi hai!” The book he had been so focused on had been a copy of my History & Civics text book, BECAUSE HE WAS PREPARING FOR THE SAME EXAM AS ME!

WE SPENT THE WHOLE HALF HOUR EXCHANGING QUESTIONS ABOUT THE HITLER AND THE CONSTITUTION, WITH PEOPLE STARING IN AT US AS IF THE KALYUG ITSELF HAD COME!!

AS WE FINALLY REACHED, WE BOTH GOT OFF THE RICKSHAW, I PAID HIM, AND WE BOTH WALKED INTO THE EXAMINATION HALL – HIM SMILING, ME STILL REELING. AND I WON’T TELL YOU HOW MUCH I SCORED.

*the above piece is a work of fiction