Tuesdays with Morrie

It’s amazing how a small book, written by someone whom you had never heard of before, someone belonging to a different country and a different culture altogether, about someone who is a very ordinary human being with ordinary aspirations and a simple way of living life, can make you feel you are born again the next morning. The city was the same while I travelled to office, on yet another unmotivated Monday, by an auto-rickshaw, sitting beside the driver, so typical of Kolkata. It was a cloudy morning, with two of my co-passengers in the back-seat dozing off, surrendering themselves to the gloom of the air around. (Monday morning witnessing office-going people doze off, now you know why I call such mornings unmotivated!) Prolonged traffic jams, child beggars trying to rekindle the inherent human kindness in you (while you actually feel continuously bugged instead), newspapers heralding the highly probable exit of automobile giant Tata Motors from the state, because of a badly played game of politics, my client calling me up too frequently over the cell-phone, desperate in his attempts to bargain for a reduction in the in-voice while I am obliged not to insult him back for his irrational and indignant arguments, and an earlier almost stagnant queue for auto-rickshaws- the morning had nothing exceptional. Yet, I felt on top of the world. I could feel the fragrance of the season’s first chhatim flowers, though they hadn’t yet blossomed! I looked at the sky, overwhelmed by its expanse and color, like I had not done in a long time! I observed people who were passing by, and tried to remember their faces even if they were complete strangers! How I was mesmerized by the beauty of the day! The beauty of life!
For, it was only the day before that I finished reading the book entitled “Tuesdays with Morrie” by Mitch Albom. Don’t expect any more vignettes please, as I have already invoked enough curiosity in you, which you will satisfy on your own. My job is done. Now you go and read the book, while I re-live that Monday morning, which apparently seemed unmotivated, yet provided me with the impetus to shirk away all that was negative, all that I feared, and to replenish myself with a reverberating upbeat vibration, that will see me through my life!
So there was I, travelling in the auto-rickshaw, almost providing the driver a free hug, to ensure that I don’t fall off (I actually feel this is a very philanthropic idea of the auto-rickshaw union of Kolkata to allow passengers to sit beside the driver, for, it has all the gestures which indicate increased brotherhood between the passenger and the driver). (And oh! How I feel tempted to add a smiley to the last sentence that I wrote in brackets, but sadly enough, cyber-lingo is yet to be recognized for its glory in literature!)
I had always noticed a striking difference between the attitude of auto-rickshaw drivers in Mumbai (where I was earlier staying), and those of Kolkata. In general, there is a rather obvious disparity between the outlooks towards life of the people of these two cities. But let me not sound vague, and come to the point as to why I am talking about rickshaw drivers. In Mumbai, I had never seen passengers queuing up for rickshaws. It had always been the other way round.
While in Kolkata, there had been an abundance of occasions where I noticed at least twenty people (including myself, of course, else I wouldn’t have bothered!) waiting for the rickshaw, while two to three rickshaw-drivers sitting inside their rickshaws a little further away, doing literally nothing, amidst the fussy office-going hours of the morning. It was evident that they were coming for business to start off the day, they were not doing any mechanical servicing of their rickshaws, neither having breakfast, not even taking a break for urinating! Yet they just sat doing nothing, watching the queue grow. What might be the reason that they are not moving their rickshaws while they can clearly see the plight of the office-goers who are getting late? Why are they so much lackadaisical towards their job? Why is taking rest the first thing they do in the morning? Why do they lack an earnestness for what earns them their livelihood? I fail to understand the rationale! I try to observe them to find a reason. They are not even talking to other fellow drivers! They are simply doing nothing!
I quit on trying comprehending their schema. There’s no point, I decide. I do that, because that is what is easy. I do what I am best at, shutting myself up, away from the world around me by putting on my headphones and listening to music.
And then, to my utter irritation I find that, when most of us in the queue had given up, sweated to falling drops from forehead, or a bus about to come to sweep away all the waiting people, the considerate driver finally moves his vehicle to pick us up in front of the queue. It seems his desire for people feeling dependent on him for his favor has been quenched at last!
I see this every two days. This ignoble act of disrespect towards one’s own profession at the rickshaw stand! Yet I prefer floating my body into the ocean of inactivity, as does everyone else. A few of us standing in the queue don’t hesitate to abuse the drivers for being lazy, but we, ourselves are even more lazy to walk a few meters to ask them why they are behaving in such a manner, which would seem very weird, if not unimaginable at a rickshaw stand in Mumbai. Had these drivers been fighting for their bread in Mumbai, they will know what struggle for existence means! Ignorance is the root of all sins- I mutter to myself as my ego establishes itself as a gyan-guru, deriving theorems to evaluate others’ behaviors.
This was all. This was all I could conclude, until it was the next day of my finishing “Tuesdays with Morrie”. Monday morning, I find the vehicle quickly. Thanks to mother, I started early. I grasp the opportunity and show my brotherhood towards the driver by sitting beside him, while he makes his way through the crammed city roads.
Should I speak to the person next to me? I ask myself. Would I ask him what might be the reason some rickshaw drivers behave in such an objectionable manner? Does he himself do that ever? Does the distress of the passengers caused by them make any difference in their lives? Should I take a survey by talking with different rickshaw-drivers everyday, and then let the union or the authority answer why there exists a woeful situation when there is absolutely no logic behind it?
I think. And I also think that I am after all an ordinary and selfish person, and not a social worker. I have got other things to do in life, like handling clients, mugging up words for my GRE, answering my peers, and doing music and dreaming about reality shows when I had some free time. Why do I need to take any additional pressure and hamper the creative thinking of my brain at all? I was happy doing what I was doing. I was exploring the world anyways!
Moreover, didn’t I know what being a social worker leads to? Didn’t I read newspapers? Didn’t I believe that the only fate a male social worker could have was facing legal trials, and the only fate a female social worker could have was being raped? Oh yes, I am not courageous. But at least I am also not a fool, to destroy my life, and my dignity in society!
But I had read “Tuesdays with Morrie” the night before!
So I had to speak.“Do you feel discomfort talking while driving??” I ask the driver, all on a sudden.
“What?” he asks. Evidently, he is surprised. So is everyone else in that vehicle. He is a middle aged man, with 2-3days of growing white beard, wearing a shabby T-shirt. It was astonishing! I had never looked at the face of any rickshaw driver ever in the last one year, while I travelled by rickshaw daily! I didn’t recognize anyone of them! Did they also notice who is entering and leaving their vehicles?
“Sometimes I feel a little disturbed while talking and driving simultaneously, especially today, my brake is not working properly”, he said, “but why, Madame?”
“No, it’s ok, if you cannot talk now. I actually wanted to talk to you!” came out of my mouth, so involuntarily! “Tuesdays with Morrie” was already doing its job!
“You can talk with me, Madame”, said he, “what is it?”
“I actually wanted to know something. I have observed over the past one year, that during very busy office hours, some rickshaw drivers just don’t move, and enjoy the quandary of the sweating passengers standing in the queue” I tell him. He laughed. And so did my co-passengers.
“What do you think might be the psychology behind them, Sir? Have you done that ever yourself?” I find myself resilient and straight-forward. I was never like this. “Do you think they enjoy that people are looking forward to their favor?”
“No Madame. There might be many reasons behind that.”
“That is the reason, what else? Their nature is like that only!” insinuated a co-passenger. One of the two who were trying to have a nap. Our conversation had awakened both of them! For, he had got a free chance to curse the rickshaw-drivers, without himself having to take the pains to commence the topic! It seemed funny to me! But it was ok. I would have also done that if I were in his position, had I not read “Tuesdays with Morrie”.
But it was also important for me to let the driver speak. Because, being a passenger myself, I was aware of the point of view of the passengers anyways. I needed to erase off my ignorance, by looking at the situation from the drivers’ perspective.
“What can be the reasons, Sir? Would you please tell me?” I ask. I was more polite than ever before!
“See, different people drive rickshaws. Some drive and own, while others pay a rent of the vehicle to the owner. While some are bachelors, some have the burden of raising a family! Also, it is important for us to take rest, as we don’t have holidays! If I am not at my ancestral home at Midnapore, I drive 365 days a year. Even when it is a strike, we have to come for the duty. Every morning I need to supply my family with food!”
Things start becoming clearer to me. Time for me to think. I can imagine myself working for the entire year, without any holidays. Will I not doze off even on Monday mornings? My co-passengers were dozing off even after having the day before as a holiday! I felt ashamed!
“Those who are not raising a family, can afford to take rest, can’t they, Madame?” the driver speaks again! I feel ashamed again. I am continuously addressing him as “a driver” only!
“What is your name, Sir?” I ask.
“Sushanta Jana”, he replies, “See Madame, I know that some of us do not behave properly with the passengers, while we must understand that it is our profession which earns bread for us. Everyone have their own way of life and living. However, I admit that sometimes it might seem wrong. For example, if I need to take rest, I do that at my home, not keeping passengers waiting for me.”
“Very good. You are being true to your profession”, I suddenly felt proud of the humble rickshaw driver. Sushanta had more insight to problems in life than all others travelling in that rickshaw at that point of time.
“You have your family in Midnapore?” I ask. We were becoming friends. It just needs a few words, and a little care. People has so much to say!
“No, they stay here with me. But my parents are there. I have two daughters. I will go and pick them up from home and drop them school, after I drop you all to Gariahat. I can’t take rest, Madame. I need to pay two hundred rupees to the owner of the rickshaw everyday.”
“And your wife?” I ask.
“She does some stitching works sometimes. Nothing is regular. I have to pay the rent of the house that we stay. Provide for the expenses of my daughters’ studies.”
And later on you will have to provide for the expenses of their marriage as well- I told, but silently and to myself only. I could understand. Poverty is plentiful in India, and hence can be easily and closely related to.
We talked a little more, when suddenly I realized, it was time for me to get down. My destination had come. The perspective I wished to study, had been incorporated into me already.
“Take my fare, Sushanta Babu. I will get down here. I felt really nice talking to you. I am sure we will meet again!”
There was a grin in his face. I smiled as well, and bid him goodbye.
I placed my back-sac in its position, crossed the road and started walking towards my office.
I am not sure whether I will chase my mission of interviewing other rickshaw-drivers, and make it a point that the authority/union addresses the problems faced by passengers. May be I wont be able to be a social worker ever in my life. But is that necessary anyhow? Understanding each other can address all grudges, I realized. I knew at least that I would never complain again about waiting in the sun for a rickshaw at the stand while coming to office.
As I entered my workplace, a broad smile had enlightened my face. It was there to stay.