The world has always know Chennai to be an extremely hot place with relatively cold people.
The fact about the weather is definitely undebatable. Some would even go as far as to say the same for its people, and they cannot be blamed. For the city plays host to the worst auto drivers who fleece the public without a conscience, policemen who won't let you go without paying up the 'amount', and worst of all, the government officers. These officers, for want of a better word, delay. Delay, till the end of time. They are the Gods of Procrastination. And deceit. Under all these evils, the city moves on. Anyway, that is not what this blog is about. This blog is not to bitch about the city we all love, but to show that there still is some hope for all those living in it. Some hope for humanity.
It was an extremely hot September afternoon. I had just started work as an articled assistant under a Chartered Accountant, and was in a hurry to get to work. Where was work? Work was 15 kilometers away, and an easy 1.5 hours travel by public transport in the excruciating Chennai traffic. I was late that day, as usual. I sat in my Share Auto, and listened to the driver grumble about the heat, the police 'prechana', the petrol prices, and even the passengers, or the lack of them. I listened to all that he had to say, with my earphones in, some Beatles song or the other playing, quietly wishing he'd start soon. He stopped grumbling when the Share Auto filled up, and thankfully, started. We moved at a snail's pace, weaving in and out of traffic. I'm freaking melting, I thought, as we thankfully got out of the crowded residential area where I lived and picked up some speed.
Only to be stopped. Suddenly and abruptly.
The Heat? Check.
Running Late? Check.
Grumbling Share Auto Guy? Check.
What else could go wrong, you might ask.
The Police. Not the band, of course.
We got pulled up half an hour later, barely a couple a couple of kilometers from our starting point.
The Share Auto guy had been driving without a permit, we were informed later. He had to get down, and 'handle the police'.
The Police asked us to take another Share Auto. The vehicle and it's owner were done. They were going to be taken away to the nearest station for some questioning.
And us? We were asked to find our way from there.
I had never been in a situation such as this before, and I wondered whether the Share Auto guy had to be paid for the incomplete trip. The logical answer would have been, NO. The wannabe Chartered Accountant in me very vaguely recalled the only law that I had bothered to learn properly till then, The Indian Contract Act. The contract which had been entered into was for the whole journey, the lack of performance of which meant the consideration wouldn't have to be paid.
And anyway, the guy hadn't been very likeable, and there was no way he was going to get some 'pavam paisa'.
The driver wan't there then. He was off squabbling with a bunch of policemen. So there was no way he could have anyway forced us to pay up for the journey. Or whatever part of it.
This was solely going to be a matter of personal choice.
What happened after that blew my mind. As people slowly started getting down they took whatever money they owed the driver for the shortened trip, and kept it on his now vacant seat. The lady with the two shabby looking loud kids, the old man who looked like he hadn't bathed in a long while, the school kids, everybody.
Those who could afford to pay, and those who couldn't. Everybody kept some money on the driver's seat and left.
Nobody grumbled. Nobody said a word.
And I did the same.
I realized just then that the heart of this city called Chennai was it's people. The auto drivers, the policemen, everybody who was ever rude or angry, was deep inside just another human being, trying to make ends meet. And there was a lot of place in that heart for forgiveness. Chennai was a big city, after all. And a city with big hearts.
Chennai suddenly didn't feel hot to me anymore.
The fact about the weather is definitely undebatable. Some would even go as far as to say the same for its people, and they cannot be blamed. For the city plays host to the worst auto drivers who fleece the public without a conscience, policemen who won't let you go without paying up the 'amount', and worst of all, the government officers. These officers, for want of a better word, delay. Delay, till the end of time. They are the Gods of Procrastination. And deceit. Under all these evils, the city moves on. Anyway, that is not what this blog is about. This blog is not to bitch about the city we all love, but to show that there still is some hope for all those living in it. Some hope for humanity.
It was an extremely hot September afternoon. I had just started work as an articled assistant under a Chartered Accountant, and was in a hurry to get to work. Where was work? Work was 15 kilometers away, and an easy 1.5 hours travel by public transport in the excruciating Chennai traffic. I was late that day, as usual. I sat in my Share Auto, and listened to the driver grumble about the heat, the police 'prechana', the petrol prices, and even the passengers, or the lack of them. I listened to all that he had to say, with my earphones in, some Beatles song or the other playing, quietly wishing he'd start soon. He stopped grumbling when the Share Auto filled up, and thankfully, started. We moved at a snail's pace, weaving in and out of traffic. I'm freaking melting, I thought, as we thankfully got out of the crowded residential area where I lived and picked up some speed.
Only to be stopped. Suddenly and abruptly.
The Heat? Check.
Running Late? Check.
Grumbling Share Auto Guy? Check.
What else could go wrong, you might ask.
The Police. Not the band, of course.
We got pulled up half an hour later, barely a couple a couple of kilometers from our starting point.
The Share Auto guy had been driving without a permit, we were informed later. He had to get down, and 'handle the police'.
The Police asked us to take another Share Auto. The vehicle and it's owner were done. They were going to be taken away to the nearest station for some questioning.
And us? We were asked to find our way from there.
I had never been in a situation such as this before, and I wondered whether the Share Auto guy had to be paid for the incomplete trip. The logical answer would have been, NO. The wannabe Chartered Accountant in me very vaguely recalled the only law that I had bothered to learn properly till then, The Indian Contract Act. The contract which had been entered into was for the whole journey, the lack of performance of which meant the consideration wouldn't have to be paid.
And anyway, the guy hadn't been very likeable, and there was no way he was going to get some 'pavam paisa'.
The driver wan't there then. He was off squabbling with a bunch of policemen. So there was no way he could have anyway forced us to pay up for the journey. Or whatever part of it.
This was solely going to be a matter of personal choice.
What happened after that blew my mind. As people slowly started getting down they took whatever money they owed the driver for the shortened trip, and kept it on his now vacant seat. The lady with the two shabby looking loud kids, the old man who looked like he hadn't bathed in a long while, the school kids, everybody.
Those who could afford to pay, and those who couldn't. Everybody kept some money on the driver's seat and left.
Nobody grumbled. Nobody said a word.
And I did the same.
I realized just then that the heart of this city called Chennai was it's people. The auto drivers, the policemen, everybody who was ever rude or angry, was deep inside just another human being, trying to make ends meet. And there was a lot of place in that heart for forgiveness. Chennai was a big city, after all. And a city with big hearts.
Chennai suddenly didn't feel hot to me anymore.
No comments:
Post a Comment