The Chauffeur

The Chauffeur

It was a warm summer morning in 2011. The sun seemed to be on good terms with the clouds.

My phone buzzed at 5:00 in the morning, performing its loyal task of waking me up to a new day. I woke to complete my morning ablutions quickly and boarded the cab waiting to take me to my office. A quick bath and the early morning walk to the pickup point — the two things I really enjoyed during my morning shift days.

As I reached the point in time, I saw the cab waiting for me. Unusual, as I was the one who generally performed the waiting ritual. I could see as I was nearing the cab the driver was a new guy and was busy scribbling something in his notebook. A closer look and I realized that it was not just the driver, but the cab was new, too. No wonder he came on time! One of those ‘new job sincerity’, I thought and boarded the cab.

The vehicle moved immediately, and the wind caressed my face as I rolled the window down. There were four more employees to be picked up on the way, informed the driver. I just nodded. I did not want to strike up a conversation, as I was immersed in the world of soothing melodies that flew out of my earphone into my head. Also, I was in no mood to talk, probably one of those early morning tranquil moods.

About a kilometre or two from where we started was our next point to stop. The driver pulled the vehicle down at the side of the road and waited for the employee who had not yet reached. I was looking out of the window, completely lost in my own world, pondering all those random philosophical thoughts that would reach one’s head after a cold bath in the early morning, accompanied by the gentle wind and the glorious golden rays.

When my head cleared and I looked at the driver, I saw him again scribbling something in his notebook. He looked very serious. Might be one of those account-keeping books, I thought, in which the cab drivers generally note down the amount of petrol filled, the kilometres travelled, etc. I let him alone. We then started toward the next point, and I got back to my business by increasing the volume of the song I was listening to.

We picked up all the employees rostered for the trip and proceeded to our final destination, office. I noticed that every time the cab stopped for more than five minutes, the driver noted something down in his notebook. I was now curious and wanted to know, what he was noting down. When we reached the office, I alighted from the cab and waited for the driver to park the vehicle.

Once done, I asked him in Kannada what he was writing down in the notebook. He smiled at the question and reluctantly told me that it was nothing important and was just some random thing. I nodded and asked him why it was so important that he did it every time the cab stopped, to which he replied that he was actually writing down a poem. I was now very interested.

He told me that he had failed in his Xth standard and could not complete his education due to various reasons. But, he was always interested in poetry and he wrote a few lines whenever he had time since the job as a cab driver demands all the time he has, with the exception of 2-3 hours he gets to sleep, he writes them down during the breaks or at in a traffic jam!

I was completely surprised to hear what he said and requested him If I could read his poem. At first, he was reluctant, saying that it won’t be good and that only he would call it a poem. But he later agreed after I convinced him saying that I was not expecting to read a masterpiece but just I want to read it at least to satisfy my curiosity. He handed me his old 200 pages ‘Vidya’ lined notebook and, as I flipped through, I found at least 50 poems written in it. I turned to the last filled page — he had mentioned to me that was the one he had written on the trip we had just completed. The poem was about love.

The two to three minutes I took to read the poem transported me to another world. The poem was complete with vivid colours and images. It reminded me of the poems of DR Bendre, the popular Kannada poet, who was a treat to read during our school days! I told the driver that I loved it and appreciated him for his writing skills and his creativity.

He just blushed saying that I was being too modest and that he knew that his writing did not make any sense, adding that he was just crazy and that his writing was just crap. He then said that he had his next trip scheduled and had to go. I handed the book back to him. He took his leave but not before thanking me for reading his “crap”. He smiled broadly and thanked me again, as he sat in his vehicle. Was that tear I saw in his eyes? I don’t know. But, I stood there watching the poet drive his car away…