Last Tuesday was the second happiest day of my life. Second only to a day in the year 2000 when I asked my wife to marry me and she said she hadn’t heard the question. Last Tuesday to me was almost as good as the Great Escape of 2000 AD.
Mumbai, or Bombay as it was formerly known or where the Mehtas lived as it was originally known, today is bristling with problems. We have the world record in rebuilding bridges, for no apparent reason. The world record is not using newly-constructed roads, for want of a suitable chief guest for roads, for want of a suitable chief guest for the inauguration, and, of course, the world record for the short distance longest time.
(The old record was held by a certain C. Columbus esquire who took three years and seven months to go from St. John’s Antiqua, to Queen’s New York a distance of just 342 miles, and in the bargain missed out on a job interview with a premier bank of the time and hence had to spend the rest of his living days in the garb of a tourist guide.)
It is this third world record that we, Mumbaikars or Bambaiyas, or more appropriately, the Mehtas are most ashamed of. Foreign clients in Mumbai are flabbergasted when they take 35 minutes to go from Nariman Point to Churchgate, or worse when they leave Sakinaka on Tuesday they are mortified to find themselves in the same spot, behind the same rickshaw on Thursday afternoon. We have lost a lot of foreign clients like this. And by lost, I mean expired, kaput, finito, tata. And by tata I don’t mean the famous business house, but instead I mean Bye Bye, farewell and Alee Jaeta Cest. (All is lost I surrender).
Last Tuesday, however would have been a vastly different experience especially if you were a foreigner.
Last Tuesday, in the greatest humanitarian act, record in Mumbai or Bombay or the place where the Mehtas lived, our taxis and autorickshaws went off the road.
Some unkind elements say they did this in an act of solidarity to protest the hike in gas and to facilitate a rise in their tariff metres. However, remember even Jesus had his doubts, Gandhiji had a few enemies and they are places in his beloved South Africa where Nelson Mandela may never go. These would be then the most unkind words in the English language equal in unkindness to the words “School has started”, and the words “the bar is closed”. (Keep in mind these two phrases are often strung together).
Look at the logic in place here. If the taxi union wanted to have a negative effect why would they go on strike? A day with no taxis and autos was a breath of fresh air for all Mumbaikars or Bambaiyas or the Mehtas. A day of fresh air, quite literally. Obviously if they wanted to do something dastardly, something harmful or something negative they would simply turn up at work and operate their vehicles. No my friends, this was no unkind act, but in actuality it was the ultimate act of compassion and kindness.
Thanks to this noble gesture, motorists did the five km journeys in five minutes. One-twentieth of the normal time. Mothers got home from the parlours in time to acknowledge the existence of their children. Father’s got home from their workplace in time to tuck their children into bed and clients and business partners went through an entire day without ever once, using the phrase, postpone the meeting.
What prompted this act of compassion. Many theories abound. One is that with the cabbies favourite football team, England, reaching the pre-quarterfinals, a celebration was on offer. (England is the favourite team for all cabbies and autoguys in this Fifa World Cup as they are the only names that they can vaguely pronounce.)
The taximan’s union leader M.C. Quadros was migrating to New Zealand. Or the most possible and genuine, they all wanted to spend an entire day learning Marathi.
I interviewed a number of cabbies on Wednesday, but though all three theories were put forward, none were actually confirmed by any of the men in brown.
Mumbaikars or Bambaiyas or the Mehtas, enjoyed last Tuesday like no Tuesday before.
In fact, so happy was the city that I’m told off the record from a taximan friend, that they are considering, keeping all successive Tuesdays in the future as “Taxi Off Day”.
Who dare say our city is crumbling? Who dare say our city has no soul? Who says our city is in decay? Whoever says such unkind things must have only arrived back in the city on the last Wednesday.