The hour long drive to college every morning is a boring routine. Once in the cab, I draw in the curtains and withdraw myself to a book or take a quick nap.
But one day, averse to the idea of reading or sleeping, I looked through the window to see what the roads had in store for me. And I found a beautiful concoction of emotions in every movement and intent of the people on the road. In one of the shacks of the squatters’ right behind the lane of the opulent houses, I saw a man, a father, dressing his young son for school. Since the child invariably stood on a rickshaw everyday while his father dressed him up I assumed that the man is a rickshaw puller and perhaps even drops his kid to school on the same modest vehicle. When I saw that ineffable display of affection, I was reminded of the time I had just spent at home. It’s almost the same situation, my mother wakes us up, and we rise from our bed whining and sleepy, and wish it was a weekend so that we could sleep for longer. But what struck me was the stark difference in the notion of school for us and that poor boy. School is a matter of lifestyle for us; our schools are in accord with our socio-economic status, our school bags and other school paraphernalia are of the fanciest brand available in the market and with school we usually mean friends and sadistic teachers. Learning is a distant thought and we are never thankful to our parents for the opportunity. And for that poor boy, education is the best present his parents could ever pamper him with. The love of the man for his son and his aspiration to educate his child was evident on his face. It left me wondering that how beautiful the father-son relationship must they be sharing. The father must be working throughout the day, through all the harsh weathers; bearing the searing sun to the heavy rains and freezing winters, only to earn some money to feed his offspring and see him grow into an educated man.
I saw a similar zeal for learning in our servant’s son. He longed for an extortionately priced toy and asked his father to buy him the coveted toy. The servant agreed on buying the toy but also mentioned that he will get it at the expense of his school. So the boy had to choose between play and education, and he carefully chose school. My eyes watered at seeing how the small child compromised his toy for school.
Other experiences of sneak peek are those of a mother holding on to a younger child and letting her older child walk under her protective gaze while she goes to drop them off to school, an overprotective father accompanying his daughter to school, few fathers driving their kids to school in their luxurious cars, few on bikes with the kid cautiously holding on to his guardian and many a times sleeping, some on cycles and few more on their rickety rickshaws.
Apart from the school going group, there are a myriad of people heading for their work with a distinct expression on each face. While some people rant and honk incessantly because of the traffic, some prefer to stay calm and enjoy the music; also while some catch up with the people traveling along with them, some non-driving ones catch up with the news of the day. Amidst them all, you’ll find a couple of people who’ll actually venture into loosening the traffic jam for the traffic regulators are nowhere to be found. Along with all these are some cyclists who literally lift up their cycles and dodge through the traffic, those on motorcycles don’t desist from riding them up to the footpath to cross the jam, poor are the ones stuck in four wheelers, for nobody has the strength to lift them. Isn’t it funny to lift your vehicle and walk? What are vehicles for otherwise?
Not to forget, my own cab is a terror on the road. The driver drives like crazy, undeterred by the traffic, furiously drives past every vehicle. We keep our fingers crossed and flinch when he curses somebody for coming in his way. He presumes it to be his prerogative to rage when somebody is hit, even if it’s his fault.
Now when we talk of the roads, especially in India, we cannot leave buses. It’s a marvel on the road. A bus is barely seen with people sitting or standing in a civilized manner. It always stuffs in more people than it should accommodate. One can see people huddled together, jutting out from the door and holding on to a small part of the bus.
And with such whirligig of activities comes an end to a beautiful morning to welcome the warm afternoon.
