I love to talk, so much so that people
have interrupted me and asked if my tongue pains because I talk so much. No, it
doesn’t. In my defense, I’d like to say that I always have a story to tell.
Typical Bengali trait, I am not denying that. I think this is a good to have
ability that I can strike up a conversation with anyone and everyone. In fact,
the husband claims that its that ‘look’ on my face – talk to me.
All jokes apart, I have had some
interesting conversation with cabbies, i.e. cab drivers driving the iconic
Kaali-peeli taxi, Uber and Ola. But why do we talk? Well, why not… You are
travelling together for a considerable amount of time (even 5 minutes’ count)
so why not talk to kill time? Also, I find it easier to talk to strangers. If
they judge me, it won’t matter. We might never cross paths again. But at times,
conversations can get freaky!
This happened with a Uber driver.
No, he did not cause me any harm. It was what he shared. In fact, things got so
weird that I actually got off a block before my drop off point just to ensure
the driver did not know where I lived. Here is what happened:
On a crazy work day, my Uber app
crashed. I could not book myself a ride to get home. So I called the husband to
rescue me. He booked the cab for me. The driver had some confusion regarding
the entry gate but it was sorted quickly. I got into the cab and we took off.
However, getting out of my office complex itself was a confusing maze what with
construction going on left-right-center. After 10 minutes of zigzag navigation,
we finally hit the main road (just got out of the complex that is) and the
driver quipped, “Maidum, yeh log kaam jaldi kyu nahi khatam karte…” and to this
I replied: “Kya kare bhaiya… inko thode-he takleef ho rahi hai…”
For the next 10 minutes, no one
spoke. We were stuck in traffic and then this cheesy Hindi songs is played on
the radio whose lyrics clearly state that the heroine will absorb all the
poison coming the hero’s way and only he is the reason for her survival. Very
blah but of no consequence until the cabbie burst out in a maniacal laughter. I
was looking out but his weird, half-horse like ‘khee-khee’ disturbed me. That
should have been my cue but no…
Suddenly looking into the rear-view
mirror, he asks me whether I am married. I replied in an affirmative and he
just kept quiet. Once we hit the highway he started talking about his life in
Lucknow and how the jungle raaj was ruining his beloved city. Mumbai was now
home to him. He loved the support and solidarity he received. I nodded at times
and pitched in, agreeing to the bits about Mumbai. The real story was yet to
begin...
To be continued.
That's not fair! I was just getting into the story.
ReplyDeleteWhenever I encounter an extrovert, I just get amused at the level of energy they waste talking to people. But in a positive way, they churn out better stories when they start writing but only very few regard writing as worth their time when they have so much talking to do :)
@Pranju Friday is when the story concludes :) Thank you for reading and you are one of the very few who think talking leads to better story-telling!
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