At the stroke of 9:00pm, Professor Dalal, as per his routine, closed his textbook, wiped the blackboard clean and dismissed the class. The fifty odd first year engineering students who had signed up for his tuition classes bundled out towards the door, eager to get to their respective homes.
Amongst them was Naveen, six foot tall and thin as a lamppost. He stretched his arms out and yawned. His buddy Prakash appeared beside him rubbing his eyes. Prakash was shorter and stouter, with crew cut hair and multi-colored contact lenses.
“Let’s go home.”Prakash said.
“Uh-huh,” Naveen looked across “You have an outstanding grasp of the obvious, you know that?”
Prakash blinked. “I’m too tired to respond to that.”
Naveen laughed. “Take your time. Send me a message tomorrow with your comeback.”
“Yea, I’ll do that.” Prakash staggered forward to cross the street.
“Where you going?” Naveen asked. “The bus stop is that way.”
“Bus?”Prakash shot him a venomous look. “What bus? We’re taking a cab.”
“Cab? You know how much that will cost?”
“Who cares, dude. I’ve been out of the house since six in the morning, dashing from college classes to tuition classes and what not. I’m done, man. We’re taking a cab.”
“But…”
“I’m paying.”
Naveen shrugged. Reluctantly, he followed Prakash across the street.
Prakash raised his arm and hailed down a passing black-and-yellow fiat, the trademark Mumbai taxicab. Both the boys sank into the backseat.
The taxi driver had a thick moustache and wore a crumpled brown shirt, with the top three buttons open. He turned to them and cleared his throat.
Naveen glanced up. “Breach candy.”
Without a word, the cab driver started the meter and pushed the taxi into gear. The traffic in Mumbai was congested even on a weeknight. Car horns blared all around them. Dust and fumes filled the night air.
The taxi bounced over pot holes and speed bumps. The two passengers were frequently jerked into the air. The taxi driver swore at the slightest provocation, at other cars, pedestrians, and anyone else in sight. He even cursed at traffic cops, although under his breath so that they couldn’t hear him. Naveen and Prakash, did however, hear all of his profanity, seated as they were on the back seat of his beat up old fiat.
At every traffic light, the taxi driver would turn the engine off, twist his moustache and spit outside the window. The car engine made a squeaky sound every time it was started up.
Naveen looked out and noticed that they were on Linking road instead of S.V. road, which was the normal route. He leaned forward and addressed the cabbie, “Why aren’t you going on Linking road, boss?”
The driver shot his head around. His index finger was deep inside his right nostril, digging around. He slowly withdrew the finger, whose tip was covered with black and brown particles.
Naveen flinched backwards, revolted. That finger was a god damn bio hazard.
The driver glared at him, and continued on his own route, without responding. Naveen looked down, and toyed with the dial of his wrist watch.
Prakash nudged him, “This driver is a bit weird.”
Naveen nodded, “Well said, Captain Obvious.”
They drifted off into silence as the cabbie continued his obscenities and stop-start driving. Naveen decided to try to take a nap.
At one particularly busy circular junction, the cab had to wait for quite a while as one direction of traffic was released and then another. When their turn finally came, the driver cranked the engine as usual. The car lurched forward, and then stopped abruptly. Naveen and Prakash were jolted alert.
The cabbie cursed whole-heartedly, and turned the keys again. The engine sputtered and coughed, but wouldn’t come alive. He tried again, but the engine wouldn’t co-operate. The old fiat had decided to take a nap too.
The cabbie banged his fist against the steering wheel and yelled loudly. He turned around to look at his passengers.
“What are you looking at? Get out and give it a push.” He commanded.
Naveen stared, “Ha?”
The cabbie grunted. “You heard me, give the car a push.”
Naveen and Prakash exchanged a puzzled look. Naveen looked around and noticed that they were in the middle of the junction. The cars behind them blew their horns and drove past their halted taxi. The taxi driver, for his part, let the passing cars have an earful. Then, the signal changed and traffic from the other side was released.
Every car had to slow down, change lanes and slide past the lethargic, old fiat. Some drivers just honked their horn and went on their way. Some would slow down and yell at their cabbie, who give it back to them, with interest.
Naveen felt embarrassed to be inside that cab. He looked at Prakash and shrugged his shoulders, “Let’s push it.”
Prakash widened his eyes, “Are you serious?”
Naveen nodded, “It’ll be quick. Besides, what choice do we have here?” He opened the door and stepped out. A bewildered looking Prakash followed him.
They went around to the back of the taxi. Car drivers and passengers from all sides yelled and gestured towards them.
“Get moving, man.”
“Idiots, you’ll are blocking everybody.”
“What are you morons doing? Just get out of everyone’s way.”
The taunts kept coming in their direction. Prakash looked dumbstruck. “I can’t believe this. You realize that we’re paying for this ride?”
“Actually, you’re paying for this ride.”
Prakash shook his head, still in shock. Naveen nudged him on the shoulder. “C’mon dude, on three. One…Two…Three”
Both of them bent down and pushed hard. Their cabbie stuck his head out the window. “C’mon, harder. You’ll are young boys. Push harder.”
“Young boys,” Prakash scowled. “Dude, this cab belongs in some ancient history museum.”
“Yea,” Naveen said. “You realize that the meter is still running? Let’s try again.”
They bent down, took a deep breath and threw their strength against the car in tandem. The car inched forward.
“That’s it.” The cabbie yelled. “A little more.”
They pushed further, and the car rolled ahead. The driver turned the key and cranked the engine again. This time, miraculously, the engine breathed into life.
“Alright…finally.” Naveen said, as they got back inside.
Prakash continued to grimace. "Dude, I still can’t believe this shit. We are the passengers of this cab...”
“Oh, get over it.”
“What do mean get over it?”
“I mean its fine. Whatever it is, it’s over. I just want to get home now.”
The taxi driver made no attempt to thank them. He grunted and drove onwards. As they resumed their journey, he continued to curse randomly, and dig for gold in the dark recesses of his nasal system. He did, however, keep the engine running even on traffic lights.
Naveen and Prakash sat in silence on the back seat, drifting off again. Several blocks later, their taxi stopped at a traffic light. The light turned green and their cabbie took his time in putting the dying taxi into motion.
Naveen observed a motorcycle on the perpendicular road struggle to maintain balance as he approached the traffic light, which should have been red for him. The biker wrestled with the handle, but didn’t appear to have it under control.
Naveen became instantly aware that the bike was screeching rapidly towards them. He felt his stomach churn. He looked on as the motorcycle skidded sideways and hurtled along to Naveen’s side of the crawling cab.
“Oh shit,” Prakash shouted.
Naveen ducked down, keeping his head low and his hand tucked behind his legs. It was the brace position he had seen so many times during airplane safety instructions. He never thought he would have to use that information.
A loud crash rang out. His body got flung sideways, and landed on Prakash, whose head was thrown towards the side door.
Naveen straightened himself out, breathing heavily. His body felt unsteady, but without significant injury. A moment of silence engulfed their taxi. Prakash squatted with his head down, his back hunched over.
The silence was broken by the loud shouting of the cab driver, who was on his feet outside the cab. The brown shirt had all of the buttons off now, as the cabbie shook his fist at the fallen biker. The biker’s helmet was off, as he sat on the ground massaging his legs, not appearing seriously hurt. The rear door on Naveen’s side of the taxi was bent out of shape from the impact.
Inside the cab, Prakash remained doubled over. Naveen looked across at him. “Are you alright?”
Prakash slowly raised his head. He had his hands on his face. Drops of blood dripped down from his nose. “Do I look alright?”
Naveen frowned, “Let’s take a look at that.”
Prakash brought his hands down. “Dude, my nose hurts like hell.”
Naveen took out a handkerchief, crushed it into a ball and handed it to his classmate. “Push this against your nose. Try to stop the bleeding.”
Prakash took the handkerchief. “What the hell just happened?”
“It was all a blur, but I think that bike lost control and crashed into us.”
“Holy shit, that happened fast.”
Naveen saw the blood still forming on his friend’s nose. “We have to get you to the doctor.” He got out and went around to help Prakash.
Prakash staggered forward, with a hand on Naveen’s shoulder. “What the shit, dude. What the hell is going on…”
“Shit happens, man.”
Their cabbie, who was still cursing in all directions, noticed them hobble ahead.
“That’ll be seventy.” He barked out to them.
Naveen turned around, “Ha?”
“The meter says seventy.” The cabbie grunted.
Naveen blinked. Seventy bucks for that ride. He slowly brought out his wallet.
Prakash mumbled, “Oh I have to pay for this, right?”
“Forget it, I’ll get it.” Naveen said, as he handed the cabbie the money. The cabbie grabbed the notes, counted them and grunted his consent. Without giving them a second glance, he got into his taxi, which somehow started up this time, and rolled away.
Naveen stared after the cab, still digesting everything that had happened. By his side, Prakash, rubbed his nose and muttered, “Next time, we’ll take the bus.”
