<p class="bodytext">My car broke down late in the evening on my way home. After a long wait for the tow truck, I called an Uber to go home. As the cab pulled up, I was greeted by a courteous "Hello, Sir" from the driver. Usually, my conversations with cab drivers are in Kannada, but this was different, as the driver spoke English. The driver, probably in his early forties, had a manner that suggested he was more than just a routine cab driver. As we drove off, he enquired how my day had been and if I was comfortable in the cab. His manner and disposition that evening drew me into a conversation with him. We engaged in small talk, a conversation that often unfolds hesitantly between strangers.</p>.<p class="bodytext">However, things took an unexpected turn when he seemed to have noticed the name of my apartment complex shown as my destination on the app. "That's a very nice residential condominium, sir," he remarked. His familiarity with the place piqued my curiosity. He began reminiscing about the locality, mentioning the children's park, its clubhouse, and even our weekend chaat vendor. These details would only resonate with someone who had lived there.</p>.The journey of a patriot .<p class="bodytext">"You seem to know a lot about the area," I remarked, my curiosity getting the better of me. He smiled and replied, "Yes, sir, I used to live there once." Surprised, I probed further, and the story that unfolded was poignant and entirely humbling. The driver, an engineer by profession, had ventured into a startup with high hopes and dreams. The business was doing well until the pandemic hit. Like many, his startup was not spared by the havoc wreaked by Covid-19. His business had sunk, and being unable to pay rent, his landlord had evicted him from his apartment. Left with no means to take care of his family, he sought odd jobs until he found himself driving cabs in the city to make ends meet.</p>.<p class="bodytext">His story was tinged with resilience and humility. But I also noticed that he was not seeking sympathy. Nor was he remorseful for his plight. His words conveyed a quiet pride in having survived the pandemic and a steadfast commitment to supporting his family. As he spoke, I couldn’t help but now faintly recall the man I may have known briefly from the residents' association meetings in our complex.</p>.<p class="bodytext">As I watched him drive away, I was in a whirlwind of emotions. How many of our neighbours, people we see every day, may have silently borne the brunt of the pandemic? I wondered. How many stories of loss, of quiet suffering and resilience must have gone unnoticed as we rushed through our daily lives? This chance meeting brought into sharp focus the fragility and uncertainty of our lives. As I waited for the elevator, I thought how sometimes it takes just one event, like a mundane cab ride, to uncover the hard truths that lie beneath the surface of our everyday existence.</p>
<p class="bodytext">My car broke down late in the evening on my way home. After a long wait for the tow truck, I called an Uber to go home. As the cab pulled up, I was greeted by a courteous "Hello, Sir" from the driver. Usually, my conversations with cab drivers are in Kannada, but this was different, as the driver spoke English. The driver, probably in his early forties, had a manner that suggested he was more than just a routine cab driver. As we drove off, he enquired how my day had been and if I was comfortable in the cab. His manner and disposition that evening drew me into a conversation with him. We engaged in small talk, a conversation that often unfolds hesitantly between strangers.</p>.<p class="bodytext">However, things took an unexpected turn when he seemed to have noticed the name of my apartment complex shown as my destination on the app. "That's a very nice residential condominium, sir," he remarked. His familiarity with the place piqued my curiosity. He began reminiscing about the locality, mentioning the children's park, its clubhouse, and even our weekend chaat vendor. These details would only resonate with someone who had lived there.</p>.The journey of a patriot .<p class="bodytext">"You seem to know a lot about the area," I remarked, my curiosity getting the better of me. He smiled and replied, "Yes, sir, I used to live there once." Surprised, I probed further, and the story that unfolded was poignant and entirely humbling. The driver, an engineer by profession, had ventured into a startup with high hopes and dreams. The business was doing well until the pandemic hit. Like many, his startup was not spared by the havoc wreaked by Covid-19. His business had sunk, and being unable to pay rent, his landlord had evicted him from his apartment. Left with no means to take care of his family, he sought odd jobs until he found himself driving cabs in the city to make ends meet.</p>.<p class="bodytext">His story was tinged with resilience and humility. But I also noticed that he was not seeking sympathy. Nor was he remorseful for his plight. His words conveyed a quiet pride in having survived the pandemic and a steadfast commitment to supporting his family. As he spoke, I couldn’t help but now faintly recall the man I may have known briefly from the residents' association meetings in our complex.</p>.<p class="bodytext">As I watched him drive away, I was in a whirlwind of emotions. How many of our neighbours, people we see every day, may have silently borne the brunt of the pandemic? I wondered. How many stories of loss, of quiet suffering and resilience must have gone unnoticed as we rushed through our daily lives? This chance meeting brought into sharp focus the fragility and uncertainty of our lives. As I waited for the elevator, I thought how sometimes it takes just one event, like a mundane cab ride, to uncover the hard truths that lie beneath the surface of our everyday existence.</p>
