1000 kms in 2 days

I made a breezy visit to Hubli/Dharwar the weekend that went by. It was breezy in all senses.

Statistics:
2 days, 1000 kms, 60 litres of petrol thanks to supposedly 'the most fuel efficient car' Alto. One near miss. Well, the miss felt like god gave me ticket and then told me that I am too young for a ticket yet, so left me through without one.

Learnings and Suggestions:
Avoid traveling away from Bangalore in the afternoon and evening as the sun would be hitting you in your face for a large part of the journey. Figure out the directions yourself, I am not good at that. I hadn't taken that into account while planning the trip, but I turned out to be lucky as the sun never really looked me in my face.

The stretch from Tumkur to Chitradurga is beautiful. Flawless would be an understatement, but the traffic in this stretch is fairly high. Not high enough for one to not maintain a respectable pace. If an Alto could sustain 110-120 kmph consistently, sedans and other bigger cars could do much better. The stretch around Chitradurga is very breezy, and one understands while traveling that the myriad number of windmills which are delight to watch, are totally justified.

The stretch from Chitradurga to Haveri is disappointing. Apparently the contractor who was supposed to deliver the road ran into some financial trouble and re-tendering of the road work is going on. Let's hope that the stretch gets ready soon, though if one were to decipher from the state it is in right now, it would take atleast a year and half for the job if one were to start right away.

The stretch from Haveri to Hubli is probably the best, as the road conditions and the infrastructure around are of similar nature as that of the road till Chitradurga. Additional attraction for a driver on this road would be the lesser traffic compared to the traffic on the roads till Chitradurga.


Time:
Onward journey timings inclusive of a breakfast break of 30 minutes:
Home in Bangalore to Home in Hubli : 7 hours (430 kms)
Outskirts of Bangalore to outskirts of Hubli : 5 hours (400 kms)


Return journey timings inclusive of a stretching break of 10 minutes:
Dharwar outskirts to Home in Bangalore: 6.5 hours (450 kms)
Dharwar outskirts to Bangalore outskirts: 5 hours 45 minutes (420 kms)


The most pleasurable part of the drive:
Late evening travel in darkness with the headlights on, on the return journey from Chitradurga to Tumkur : 130 kms in 1 hour 10 minutes.

A better car which can consistently clock 140 to 150 kmph comfortably, coupled with a rectified stretch of around 120 to 140 kms between Haveri and Chitradurga could result in a travel time of 4 to 4.5 hours from Bangalore to Hubli. Overall, the 53,000 crores that were invested in the Golden Quadrilateral Project by the last BJP central government are definitely justified considering the time and effort these highways save.

Cloud no. 9

I have been away from my institute for a little beyond 20 days now, and a few days ago it hit me that life will never be the same. I am sure that most of the students who have left the institute would be experiencing such a wave of emotions. The following is the first guest post on my blog, written by MGM, and dedicated to our wingmates, and the only hostel whose name started with the letter J.

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There are stories written with vibrant characters that say intelligent things and have distinctive characters and have brilliant chemistry between them. I was once a part of such a story. The problem with such stories, especially when you’re a part of them is that they must always come to an end. And so did this one. It inched and crawled to a slow inevitable end that gave us all the time to prepare and then at the end of it, took us by surprise anyway.

You spend your adolescent life with little or no knowledge of what you’re working for truly means. In my case, I discovered, all my expectations were but a tiny fraction of the sum of my experiences. It was an experience that built slowly like a rising tide into a lovely frenzy of time to waste. The time on my hands which was mine to waste turned into one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. An experience that was comprised of little routines and smiles and waves and puffs. An experience that will be cherished forever.

For it was in those little routines of waking up at 1 in the afternoon and foraging for food, of crushing ganja and rolling it in joints for my wingmates, of settling down on the corridor or the breezy roof and laughing at seemingly witty jokes with the tiny sounds of mobile phone music that I truly discovered the meaning of brotherhood.

I have always held on to the fact that there was no way you could stand in your boxer shorts next to a bunch of post-adolescent engineering students much like yourself and brush your teeth and not become close. But “close” doesn’t quite cover it. We knew every little detail about each other daily lives not unlike the way a lifetime of marriage teaches you about your wife or husband for that matter.

We knew the way the other person always forgot to switch off the lights before heading to bed, the way another groaned when we got a little too intimate (playfully so) for his comfort levels (levels that had been shattered long ago), the way some of us focused selflessly on the task at hand smiling occasionally with a witty retort, slaving under a stationary fan using expert fingers to produce joints for the rest of us who were relaxing in the breeze as we spoke and laughed. We knew when we were hit, when we should stop and what about us gave us class and placed us apart.

We were family.

And then the time to go came and went. Slowly one by one, we left the home that we had made over the last couple of years. In the days that led up to our departure, our doors were rarely closed and we were always the gracious hosts to hesitant and almost coy guests and outsiders. They always came and were never disappointed. The last few days passed all too quickly in a friendly soporific and calm lull filled with laughter, friends and music. The most exquisite detail about those days was that no matter how close we came to separation; we were never in any hurry. It was almost as if the sheer comfort of being in each others company didn’t allow us to think unpleasant thoughts.

But soon we left, one by one. And still we hung on to our merriment as thought the others had merely stepped out for a short stroll. I think we were too afraid to think of how it truly would be without each others company. Before I knew it, I was the last one left and thought it was for just one night, I could barely take it. I sang to myself and cried. And in a desperate attempt to leave a little bit of myself behind, left my posters on the wall. As I left, I noticed little details that I’d ignored from familiarity, the view from my room, the pattern of oil spots on my wall, the roof, the leaves, everything. And as I walked from locked door to locked door, I was filled with a sense of loss more profound than I’ve known for a long time; a sense of loss that was heightened by my awareness of its magnitude. I’d lost a big piece of my life and my family; and I knew it.

So, though I would love to recount details of my delicious and nostalgic story to you, dear reader, I can’t. Because as one of my seniors put it when he spoke about a very similar predicament, “Some stories are like colourful butterflies, pinning them down to a page only takes the life out of them.” I can only tell you that I was part of one such story. A story that will stay with all of us, it’s vibrant, independent, distinctive and entertaining characters, for the rest of our lives.

Voyageur by Enigma

Conditions under which I heard this track for the first time:
Driving down lanes at 630 pm at 100 kmph in a zen(puns couldn't get any better) on a beautiful winter evening in Bangalore, when it was pitch dark and the street lights were still not on, on a beautiful high, and not to forget, the headlights of the car being switched off.

Pure madness and pure bliss.

PS: This post is dedicated to one of my best friends Shaggy aka Vyshak.

Towel story

How much will a towel cost ? Rs. 100 ? Rs. 200 ?
I am sure that a decent one will come in the above range.

How much does it cost when you forget to take your towel to the bathroom in a hostel ?
A treat to all the opportunist leeches who are also known as room neighbours aka wing mates.

In this case it would be a trip to Abiruchi. My negotiation skills helped me get off with a veg meal for all. Phew! I know that is not much. But still, it is more than twice the amount I would spend in buying a new towel. Damn it. So much for izzat!

Time &(is) Money

Today has been quite wonderful, though I have not really done anything productive. I got up pretty late in the morning emphasizing to myself that today I will be heading home for a brilliant four day vacation. Throughout the day I kept telling myself that its all right, I should resume all work once I come back from my deepavali trip home. The day went by and it was time to head to the station.

All was well and two hours before the scheduled departure time of the train, I left my room. The institute battery operated bus was right there on time and I reached the main gate in no time with Prasanna who had joined me at GC. Once there, the search for an autorickshaw began. The first auto rickshaw driver we encountered demanded a sum of Rs 180/- for the ride to the station. It appeared outrageous to us, and we did not even bother arguing and bargaining with him. Like hunks trying to prove their studness, both of us walked away from those autos standing at the main gate and looked forward to the autos on the road.

Five minutes went by, no sign of an auto. Then we saw the first auto from far and were really hopeful about the whole thing. The moment it was fifty metres from us, we noticed that it was already engaged. 'Ah! we will get one soon' was the thought we wanted to bring in our minds.

Another ten minutes went by and our patience was running out. By now, a bunch of juniors who had reached the main gate almost the same time as us had already walked away in the direction of the station hoping to get an auto on their way forward. This irritated us even more, as we did not know which was a better decision, ours or theirs. No success for another ten minutes did not really help the situation. Just before we were about to give up and do something ridiculous, an auto stopped by.

The moment the driver said, 'Yes sir!' when asked 'Sir station?', there was a huge relief and I was in no mood to let this relief leave me. It has been quite some time that I have gone home for a respectable stay. The last time I went home, I met my parents for a span of an hour en route to Malaysia for the Gourami Business Challenge. Now that a lot of things have come my way in the last one month, and I have had no time to share my experiences with people back home, I was in no mood to miss my train. I had to reach home at any cost.

I asked, 'Yevlo sir?'. In English, that would translate to, 'How much sir?' and snap came the reply, '180 kudungaa sir'. My eyebrows flickered for a moment, but then before I could say anything, he continued speaking and said, 'Sir, it takes a lot of time to reach the station in this traffic'. Before any further talk, we had tacitly agreed on the amount and were on our way to the station.

All the way to the station I kept thinking that now, no more is the fare based on the distance. It is based on time. Or thats what it effectively translates to. In a broad sense I might have realized in life that time is money, but today was different. I could in fact relate to the very specific nature of the statement that is a philosophy in itself. These are the first instances of transportation fares moving on time and not on distance I have witnessed in person. I am sure that such things are being seen across the world.

I think I should spend some time thinking about what would be the implications if every factor earned its revenues or benefits, in the broadest terms, based on the time it spent on the work.

Vague to some, but this realization has been profound to me.

PS: This post was composed on the night of 7th Nov, 2007.
@Vatsap : This was written on a train. :)

Update:
This is more of a thing that I had forgotten to mention. Thanks to Prasanna's comment, I was reminded. Basically, Prasanna and I had this strong realization that the driver was The Chosen One. We were speculating that I might end up missing the train as we were anticipating lot of traffic at the peak hour and our experience assured us that our speculation would be more or less true. It took the auto driver 25 minutes flat, in peak hour traffic, to take us to the railway station. He was The One. Period.

Gourami Business Challenge : Places

I have tried a different slide show package this time, Flickrshow. I gave up on the previous Java script as it was giving lot of trouble, and my dear friends who are really good at all, also almost lost their patience, and I was in no mood to put them through more trouble.

Gourami Business Challenge : People

This is the first time I am trying out posting pictures through java script, and I must thank Harshal, and Srinivas for their help.

To see the next picture, you may click on the pictures tab on the top, or just click anywhere on the right edge of the image.

Set 1 : People at Gourami Business Challenge

Gourami Business Challenge was a whole new experience for me. Somehow after my return , I have not really got the time to blog about the time there. At least, I have now put up a few snaps. Wish to write about it soon.

And of course, then came Shaastra. Will be writing shortly about that too.

Update 1 : Script having some problem. Will be updated soon. Sorry for the trouble.

Update 2 : All is well. Everything is working fine now. Just have to work on making the arrows a little bit more transparent for the next set.

Acknowledgment: JonDesign's SmoothGallery for the Java Script.

Update 3 : All is down again. :( Got exams coming up, will try getting it up after the exams are done.

[ ]

There are moments which leave you clueless. Totally, utterly clueless. The title to the blog very well defines what my state of mind was during such a moment that I had today - blank. I am sure, I will never ever get another moment like that again.

My father calls me quite often. It is rare that he talks for long, and he compensates for it by calling me often. Today was different. After fifteen minutes of conversation came the shocker. And then he continued to speak for another fifteen odd minutes like nothing was said between us.

Highlights of the conversation:

My Father(F) : Gunda! I decided something today.
Czar(C) : What is it?
F : Nothing! I was generally watching this serial and you know this character who wants to get married to this girl who his father doesnt want him to get married to right.
C : Ok. So?

Trust me, at this point I was not able to fathom that my father had begun talking to me about such stuff.

F : Nothing! I wont trouble you about all this. You are my only son. Marry anyone you want.

Fuffff! Puff!! Wooosh!! Whatever else one can think of! Bang!

I will sleep a happy man tonight. Thank you dad.

Beginning of the End!

Venue : Cornucopia
Date : Fri. 24th Aug, 2007

Occasion : Munnu's random treat for having saved infinite moolah in the internships over the last two summers.

(L to R): Deja, Munnu, GRV, MaGaM, Caesar, Guggu, Prasanna, Lavigne

Update 1: I knew something was missing. Absboy is not there in the pic above. So here is another one:

Absboy is to the extreme right. Ravirala didn't make it this time. Forgive me for the lack of clarity of the snaps. Next time, we will definitely take a good camera along.

Fear : Life at IIT is coming to an end.

It was a wonderful outing and it was one hell of a time for all of us. After having dinner at Cornucopia, we had a gala time at hi-look at 11 pm. Then came the long walk from the main gate back to the hostels. On the way, we made a guest appearance at CCD, walking in and out of it in no time and created considerable noise. After that was the slogan shouting at Tifany's and Sharav.

Finally we reached our beloved hostel Jamuna, to find sophomores playing footer in the quadrangle. It was time to stamp our authority of being fourth yearites. We played for almost two hours and at the end we were all topless and sweating like pigs. The best part of the game was the slogan, 'Hip Hip! Bow Wow' which is a toast to the dog, i.e. Munnu. It was one of the best times I have had in the quadrangle. And I am pretty sure, it was the same with my wing-mates.

Time to watch a movie and we pick Chak De India. By the time we settle down in Munnu's room to watch the movie, we realize that most of us had really sore bodies. Munnu, while trying to have a shot at a header, was pushed when he was mid air, and found himself with a sprained ankle at the end of the momentary flight, which he thought would end in a legendary header. By the way, he removed the bandage only today.

By the way, we were having a bet on whether one of us will choose to not watch the movie as it was pretty late into the night. The loser had to pull hair from Munnu's chest and lick them. Munnu, being the data miner, realized the implications : irrespective of who loses, Munnu would have got his chest hair pulled, which isn't one of the most pleasant experiences for many.

Deja, as usual dozed off during the movie and still managed to put a post on the movie. The rest had a good time watching the movie. The night ended for us at 5 am in the morning, and some of us tripped for a little while longer on Munnu and eventually hit the sack.

PS: I am contemplating starting a photo blog as I have been posting images quite often and planning to buy a good camera too.
Credits : Aniket helped in editing the snap as the light and play of colors was really bad.

Window Shopper

Initially I was just planning to show off the nice pair of glasses that I was trying out and how I look in it, by posting only the snap. But then I thought I should highlight a few things that I did as I had gone recently with a couple of friends to a reputed mall in the city.

I tried out a couple of tee shirts, a pair of shades, and a cap. I actually wore the cap at the beginning of the spree that we were on, and kept it on till we got out of the mall. So that is the kind of window shopping I do. I was also keen on wearing the shades through the remaining time that we intended to spend inside the mall, but then, my friends' advice got the better of me and I had to leave these shades back where they were.

The shades I am sporting in the snap are from Polaroid. I was keen on buying some aviator shades, and the salesman rightly pointed out that they are generally made for faces that are much bigger than mine and wont really suit me. He took the trouble to actually dig for a pair which were very much similar to aviator shades in their structure and did suit me quite well, or at least that's what I think. I really appreciate the efforts that the sales person put into finding this particular piece and I was actually serious about buying them.

Then came the surprise which always ruins the fun: the price tag!

Czar: How much for these?
Friendly sales person: Sir, these shades cost Rs 7200/- only.

I had genuinely asked him if they could be made to suit my eye-sight at the beginning of the conversation. Co-incidentally, he answered only after I had seen the price tag. Unfortunately or fortunately (the former represents the state before the awareness of the price and the latter, the state after the awareness of the price) they did not take up the work of fitting shades with glasses which were built to rectify the eye sight. He asked me to get it done in some authentic Polaroid showroom. At the same time, he insisted that I buy the piece in the mall itself as there was a discount on offer (which was small enough to be of any significant help to my wallet) and get the glasses changed in some other showroom as it would be done free of cost.

It was reason enough for me to safely say ''No! Thanks''. And I was gone.

Oh by the way, for those who think that all I do is window shopping, I did buy a pair of floaters from Caterpillar for myself, which did enough damage to my wallet anyway. And I intend to buy those shades at the earliest, and be assured, I will announce it when I do so. :)

Cheers to window shopping.

Credits: Vatsap for editing the snap.

Once upon a time

This post is dedicated to the only place I can worship: IITM

People come, people go. A few names stay, many leave.

The only thing that is perennial, is the place.

It watches over all. It sees the generation come and go. It witnesses all the blood, sweat and toil. It cradles the nuances of friendship, love, hate, achievements, let downs, anger, excitement and makes the times the most memorable for the ones who come by.

I have been in this institute for three years now. Three hostel nights have gone by, and I have bid farewell to three batches of seniors, all gems. I have had a fair share of bonding with many, and have experienced the joy of the company, and the sorrow of the goodbyes. I like this place, and I have known that for long. I have seen people trying hard to hold back their tears. I have also seen them cry, and hug each other trying to live together those last few days while realizing that very soon they will all be apart, gone in different directions.

These feelings of nostalgia have surfaced time and again during discussions with friends and good friends (Forgive me for that. The classification is a must!). Every year I read people write about their time at this place, about their friends and how they will miss these most cherished times. I have always related to them well.

But today was different. It was an overhaul of feelings I have never felt before.

I was in my wing comfortably seated on the parapet wall. There was a lot of activity in the quadrangle. Many people are yet to come back for the semester. I could see a few shuttling around carrying their luggage from the security desk to their rooms across the quadrangle through the pathway. Some were playing footer and the rest just standing and chit-chatting.

I noticed a familiar figure, that of a second yearite. I shouted and waved at him, and got the friendly smile and wave back. The smile was a mix of lot of affection and some apprehension, which is I believe, out of some respect that he probably has for me. Before I realized there were a few others who had noticed this howling of mine across the quadrangle. Many who noticed this act continued whatever they were doing. One had stopped a fraction of a second too long for me to understand that he was a fresher. From what I could see, he was done surveying the rooms, and was ready to move in. But what was funny was the way in which he was looking at me, and tried to take his eyes away from mine. There was a strange sense of phobia, anxiety, and excitement that was evident from his mannerisms. I was wondering what would be going on in his mind. What would he be thinking?

It was at this instant that it hit me.

A little short of three years ago, I was in the position that the fresher was in now. There were seniors who were standing in their wing and looking down upon the things happening around in the hostel and passing comments and having a ball among themselves. I thought that I must have been their topic of discussion. My thinking and scope did not let me think beyond this, and I never made an attempt at that moment to speculate if it was something else that they could be discussing. It has been barely three years, and here I am, in the role of those who I admired and looked upon. Time has whizzed by, and I didn’t notice. I am not even sure if I have come even close to what they were. They will still remain the same to me.

A year from now, I will (hopefully :D) be receiving my degree at the convocation. But will I be getting a magical box which will let me preserve all that I have lived in the past three years? Is it possible to live it all again? I wish I could talk to them again. I wish I could make all the friends I have made, all over again. I wish I could live every moment once again.

Though I could relate to everything that was written, spoken, and done at the end of every eventful year by the people who were going to pass out, it was only today that I realized the gravity of it all. Kudos to all those who have lived in these corridors, and wishes to all those who will walk the same in the years to come.

I wish all my batchmates a wonderful year ahead, and intend to make it the most eventful one of my life.

Cheers to life at IIT.

PS: If someone could give me an image apt to put up with this post, I would be grateful.

Déjà vu - SUVs or Auto Rickshaws??

This post is best understood by those who have played NFS Most Wanted and have suffered the worst set backs and the horror of two massive heavy SUVs bumping you head on.

Today, for the first time in real life, I felt what I generally feel when I play NFS Most Wanted.
It was total madness. The situation was precisely scaled and hence, equally dangerous.

In the game, I am driving a car which acts as the subject and there are SUVs which are the objects. Here I was, driving my two wheeler which became the subject and there were two Auto Rickshaws which turned out to be the objects. Considering the laws of scaling, the situations were not quite different.

Two Auto Rickshaws came onto me exactly the same way the SUVs come onto me in the game. I mean, I cant even press (R) for the reset option and hence come back into one piece onto the road, or press Alt+F4 and quit the situation. All I could try doing was, somehow survive the next fraction of the second and pass through safely.

I somehow did it. I survived.

I stopped my vehicle, looked back, looked up, kissed my hand, returned home and played NFSMW.

Phew!

P.S.: I dedicate this post to Munnu with whom I have enjoyed the best sessions in NFSMW.
I wish you were riding pillion with me today. It would have been good fun. :D

SP3 - The experience... Blah!

May 7th

Two of my friends and I decide to watch some movie, late night show. We end up deciding on watching Spiderman 3. Efforts went in contacting as many friends as possible and figuring out ways to get tickets for the movie. We finally decide to buy the tickets in black if need be and end up taking auto rickshaw till the theater.

Once we reach there, we wait for almost an hour to realize that we aren't getting any black tickets, and hence we need to book tickets for the next day. We end up buying tickets for the noon show for the next day.

Time for grub. It was 10 pm already and the nearest restaurant was Saravana Bhavan. We shuttle between the buffet and serving sections twice to decided upon the amount of money we are going to spend. Eventually we end up at the serving section and order the grub, which appeared to us exorbitantly priced, but then poor souls thought that the grub would be sufficient for our hungry stomachs.

Now comes the interesting part. The food arrives in vessels and containers that I remember having had my food in when I was a little kid. I meant, a little kid by age. I know I am still a kid though. Anyway, coming back to where I was. The food was not sufficient for one of us, let alone three of us. That was the second part of the dismal happenings.

We head back to the institute and get ripped off by the auto rickshaw dude this time around. I will come to the specifics later.

May 8th

We head to the movie in yet another auto and almost got ripped off again. We manage to enter the theater just in time and sit through the painfully coincidental movie, but filled with action that has become so cliched over the three editions.

As we had managed to wake up just in time to catch an auto for the movie, very evidently we had not had any food for breakfast or lunch. So it was time we had something to keep our growling tummies quiet. So 'Juthe' decided to buy sandwiches and cool drinks and get ripped off again.

Movie finally got over and we had to listen to the ugly rants(which, mind you, are not justified in the city of Chennai) of the auto drivers about the cost of fuel sky rocketing, their earnings and more and trying to coax us into paying them a fortune for the ride back to the institute. All this, at 3 pm under in scorching heat, while coughing incessantly and the fear of catching the fever that you had the previous night yet again.

The whole exercise cost me a brilliant Rs 400/-. All this for a movie that I did not even enjoy. What a waste! I know I am cribbing like a cry baby. It is justified. It definitely is.

And the review is coming up.

P.S.: Never think of eating American Chopsuey at a South Indian Restaurant. NEVER.

The Unforgettable Dream

The intro

I stand
I look down
Shining hair
I smell
The scent is intoxicating
I am moving
I feel
I feel the light feet on my feet
I move to the music
The caress of the skin
The eyes look up to me
I dance
The peck on the neck
The jolt down the spine
The world stops
The girl
A dream…

Ah!! The dream.

P.S : Joe Sat rocks.

Auto-Driver (I): A stint with an air-hostess

My job is monotonous. I like it though. I see people, I see more people. That part of my job is fun, though sometimes I have to get along with certain things that I do not really like.

It is my daughter’s face that keeps me going. I work the evening and night shift, so that I get to spend time with my daughter. She is only 5 years old, and I have one more year till she starts attending formal school. Till then I intend to continue working in the evenings and nights.

I got married when I was 29. Its been 6 years since. My wife and I decided to have only one kid till we are able to afford and realize the better life for the three of us. Lot of people in my community have told me to go for another kid. I am firm about my decision. Even if the whole community issues a fatwa against me, I will stand by it. I do not want my kids to have discontinued education like me. All the arguments which say that a lone kid remains a loner, and will always be in need of the sibling affection are true. But unless and until I am able to sustain the lives of the three of us, it does not make sense to get more affection into the family when the family itself cannot survive. One cannot live on affection.

Speaking about my work, as I said before, I get to meet a lot of people. It all began four months ago. On a Saturday night, I happened to pick up a few guys near M.G. Road at eleven thirty in the night. They had to catch a flight at 1230, and were in a hurry. They were a noisy lot, and I had a good time talking to them during the journey. It was a starless night, quite cloudy for a winter night. Customary to my work, I joined the queue of auto-rickshaws at the airport waiting for the passengers of the next flight to arrive. Since I had joined the queue late, I was anxious about getting a passenger for my auto.

The anxiety was well justified. I used to turn my eyes on every person coming out of the airport in the hope that he will take the auto first in line and I will get closer to the next person coming out of the airport. It is common practice that the auto drivers try to lure the passengers by approaching them well before they go in for the pre-paid service. Somehow that does not really work at the airport. I was anxious and was waiting.

An hour passed by since the time the flight had arrived, and it appeared to me as if all the passengers had already left. I was idle for 2 hours now. Everyday I work from 4 p.m. till 12 p.m. If I start late in the evening, I work late for an equivalent time. 2 hours of idle time meant, one fourth of my wages were cut straight away. I don’t know why I had taken that decision of waiting there. But then, something told me that it will be justified. I waited.

I lit a cigarette, and was sharing it with a fellow auto driver. The cold night was wearing me out, and there I was waiting for a passenger, with a cigarette between my fingers.

A soft and strained voice called me from behind and in a hurry I ashed my cigarette and turned around. The figure standing in front of me was that of a slender, fragile and scared girl who was trying to portray a bold image. She was wearing, what appeared to me, a miniature version of a school uniform. She was well groomed and looked pretty. She wasn’t the most beautiful girl I had seen, but she definitely had a very soothing appearance. The scared feeling was quite evident and she was making a futile effort at being bold. I felt as if I should be comforting her. Mixed emotions hit me. As always, my duty took over and I am really proud of myself for the same. She asked me if my auto was booked already, and I asked her to step in and take the seat.

She asked me to take her to her house and gave me the location and the directions and the journey started. Then began the conversation. It wouldn’t have been difficult for me to strike a conversation with any of my passengers, but there was something about this girl that made me feel awkward. I did my best to feel at ease in my own auto and tried to put her at ease too. I asked her as to why she looked terrified. She never expected a response like that from an auto driver.

She started telling me how every time she steps into a public transport vehicle, she receives glares from the male community of the society. She described the insecurities and the fears of doing the job that she was doing. Maybe she felt comfortable talking to me about her inner feelings and was letting herself go. She had been working as an air hostess for almost a year now, and had always feared the night. The job is such that it demands work at vague hours of ones life. I could very well understand her situation. The glamour of one world when comes down to another where it is not generally experienced or seen, things might take a different turn. And it is this realization that had made her afraid of everything around her.

She was a girl from a middle class background. That is what I could decipher from her house, and the surroundings. She told me that she felt really comfortable and secure during the journey and asked me for my cell number. I did not find anything wrong in giving my contact number to her, although I did enquire as to why she would need it. Her trust in me made her ask me for a favor. She asked me if I could drop her home every time she had a night flight back to Bangalore. Within an instant she realized that it would be unfair on her behalf to ask an auto driver for such a favor, as in our profession you never know which part of the city you are in at a given time of the day. She rephrased her statement and asked me if I could oblige, in case I was in that part of the city. I couldn’t say anything and it was assumed that I will be doing the job. I didn’t regret the assumption.

Over the next few months I picked her up several times from the airport and dropped her home. Every time I used to wonder as to how her job might be, what her daily chores are, how her family might be feeling about her job, and what her future plans her.

She used to call me in the afternoons to tell me that she will be landing in Bangalore at a specified time, and politely request me to be around airport at the same time. Somehow I used to get carried towards the airport and nearby areas and used to be there, at the airport, bang on time. But always, the timing that she used to give me was the time the flight used to land. Somehow in spite of understanding the basic fact that it takes an hour more for an air hostess to come out of the airport after the flight has landed, I used to conveniently forget the fact and wait there for an hour or more. To an extent this had its impact on my work and earnings. But it was well worth it as a girl felt secure and safe and some how I felt that thanks to me, the whole mankind was getting the security and trustworthy feeling. I started feeling good and gave myself the credit.

Once I did make a mention of the fact that I was losing out on working hours because I was waiting for her at the airport. The next time she bought a packaged meal from the airport lounge with some chocolates and asked me to give it to my kids. I thanked her and promptly reminded her that I had only one kid. I also told her that the gifts are always measured by the person’s intentions and never by the size of the magnitude and thanked her again. I also told her that I will be gifting her something invaluable.

Every time she used to step in to my auto, she was on the phone speaking with her boyfriend. In fact I used to be surprised and used to think whether she has a free phone connection. Because to me, speaking so much on the phone is just not plausible, and I somehow felt that it cannot be so for anyone for that matter. She used to get into the auto while she was on the phone and get off the auto and she was still on the phone.

One day, she told me that the taxis that she used to take earlier, in Bangalore and different cities were pretty unsafe. And when I made the effort of asking her what did she feel was unsafe, she told me that the drivers of the vehicles used to look at her through the rear view mirrors quite often. This made her uncomfortable. Before I could understand and ask her to help me understand the same, she went on with the description of the whole situation. It felt pretty bad. But I had to analyze.

I tried figuring out why that might have been happening. She was not the prettiest of the lot, nor did she sport revealing clothes. I did understand that being the only girl in the vehicle could have been a factor, but generally people do not have time to think about other things while on duty. Or maybe that was the case only with me. Anyway, after close analysis did I realize that her talks with her boyfriend on the phone might be triggering emotions among the drivers. I did not want to jump to any conclusions. But it was quite apparent. In fact, being a married man myself, my own ears had turned to her conversations with her boyfriend at times and the conversations were quite explicit to say the least. Every human being has feelings and it is probably not possible to shut the senses completely. So I concluded that it was her own actions and conversations that were driving the wrong things around her.

Next time I met her, I gave her the Holy Quran translated in English as a gift. It was the invaluable gift that I had told her about. I did feel that I should tell her what my analysis was. But somehow I restrained myself from doing the same. I asked her to read the Quran whenever she was free and felt like understanding life better and what Islam was all about. I have deleted her number and never met her since.

I really hope that the angel on her right shoulder takes good care of her. I do pray for her well being and hope that she understands the follies and good things in life.

I wish to fly some day with my wife and my daughter and hope to find her helping us out in the flight. I will feel safe and secure then.