Meeting an unsung hero

A conversation with a taxi driver reveals a story of resilience and gratitude

My husband and I once decided to take a taxi back home and booked the cab through a ride-hailing app. A cab arrived shortly, and we began our journey.

My husband has a habit of striking up conversations with strangers, particularly auto and taxi drivers. He does this to ensure the driver stays awake and to make the ride more enjoyable. I usually stay quiet, as I’m always a bit anxious and apprehensive during these rides. Isn’t that how many of us are wired?

On that particular ride, my husband asked the driver, a young man, about his home, family, where he’s from, how long he’s been in Bengaluru, and most importantly, how he coped during the pandemic. I’m familiar with these questions by now. Normally, these conversations are like interviews, but this one was going to be different.

The driver was a young man in his late twenties. He has a family — parents, wife, and a young child — living together in Tumkur, 70 km from Bengaluru. He told us he works till midnight and starts his day by 5 am daily. He visits his family in Tumkur twice a month.

My husband inquired about his living arrangements in Bengaluru. Does he live with relatives or friends, or is he staying alone?

He said he has no one in Bengaluru and considers his car his home. He sleeps in the car and uses the public toilets to brush, freshen up, and take a bath every morning. He eats his meals from roadside eateries. He ferries passengers until midnight and then parks the car somewhere and sleeps in it.

I broke my silence and asked, “Why can’t you rent a small room and sleep peacefully and comfortably?”

He said that the rent is high in Bengaluru. Moreover, he can’t afford the advance payments. He wants to save as much as possible for his family to have a better life. He wants to send his child to a good school. He dreams of constructing a house for his old parents.

I again asked him if it was safe to sleep inside the cab at night.

He said he was used to sleeping in the car now, and he generally parked the car at a place that was well-lit and preferably close to a police station, free parking area, or hospital.

I fell silent again, contemplating what the young man had just said.

He continued, “Madam, I am blessed. I have a car that protects me from rain and bad weather. I can lock it and feel safe inside. I have the strength and means to earn and feed myself and my family. But think about those homeless people and the street hawkers. They have to brave the unpredictable Bengaluru weather. They sleep in the open, exposing themselves to dangers. Sometimes, they sleep hungry. Considering all that, I consider myself lucky.”

Finding a man genuinely counting his blessings when the world is crying and complaining is inspiring...