At The Helm!

I was very proud when I got my driving license at the ripe age of eighteen.  I was proud because I got it through the right channels, with a proper test and not by bribing (Like most of my friends did!). Dad’s red Maruti van was my first car (though I learnt on an ambassador car!)  Delhi had beautiful roads and the traffic in those days was disciplined so I had a good time driving for myself and was ready to take anyone out!

Being a girl had its advantages too. I remember I once jumped a red light and the traffic cop caught me. I put on a sad face and spun some story and he let me off without punching my license! Soon after my cousin brother was caught doing the same thing but he had a big punch on the card! How triumphant I had felt that day.

Much later when I got married and we scraped and saved and bought a car, we used to love to go on road trips sharing the driving (I was normally given the nice roads to drive on!). The concept of keeping a driver had never entered our mind. But life changes and the Husband got a great posting with a car and a driver as a perk and we soon came to accept this as a part of our life. (Though I continued to have my own car and we went on road trips without the driver!)

Our first driver – Reddy was very aristocratic- he never got out to open doors for us or gave a smile. He always had a pained expression of putting up with us! He was much richer than us. He owned two houses; we didn’t even have one, neither could we dream of owning one with our bank balance! Soon he left us and after a few forgettable apprentices Srinivasan came into our lives...

He was perfect. Always a smile, a good morning or evening, always ready to open the doors. Never allowed me to get out on a traffic filled road till he got out and opened the door. The seat belt always on; every free time was spent polishing the car; the children were looked after so well that I never worried if he was around. I was spoiled rotten for four years. I loved being driven by him everywhere.

We were transferred to Mumbai- the great city of dreams, only to have each and every dream of mine being shattered! The whole house searching was a terrible nightmare (I could write a whole book on that!) The maid situation was even worse but that’s another tale!

Jay Kumar was the hero who entered our lives. He always “Bhabi this and Bhabi that” to me! Getting used to that from “Madam” was a little difficult but it was OK (anyway there was a lot of adjustments going on). He was a typical immigrant from Bihar;  thin as a beanpole; wore tight jeans; ate gutkha; and put his own Hindi song cassettes (The hubby never liked that!). He wasn’t too bad, only thing was that Srinivasan had spoilt all of us! He drove erratically (Bombay style); he told me all the gossip of Bipasha Basu (She lived in the same apartment as ours) and John Abraham, which I was never interested in anyway. He ultimately drove all of us mad and we decided to change him.

 We had a series of drivers after that – in fact one was just like Srinivasan (in looks that is!) dark and rotund- that’s where all the comparison ended- where was the politeness? Where was the trust? Where was the care??????  He was dirty had all kinds of skin disease and all the time sleeping!  We had three more after this all of them would take some advance and disappear! After the third time this happened we decided not to keep any and thus started a whole series of driving experiences for me. I learnt how to navigate the Mumbai roads (Cursing most of the time!) two years passed by in no time at all and it was time to shift to a new house (Shifting houses is another story!)

The new house was nicely placed with a good, large parking space (Parking spaces are also another story!) Living on the eighteenth floor was heaven. But a driver was required and we got a nice one too almost perfect- almost Srinivasan! But he was star struck and a TV personality who stayed in the same apartment stole him away (I never watched any of his shows after that!) We got the last of our drivers in Mumbai (almost ten in a span of three years- some record!)

Vijay was a typically Marathi driver- thin and small; full of his own importance; well behaved (Not the door opening kinds but beggars cannot be choosers!); helpful (would carry bags if they were heavy). He drove like the Mumbaites – inch his way through at red lights; overtake anyone and everyone; curse the auto-rickshaw drivers; bribe the policemen (with our money!)And stole petrol for his mobike! So he was sacked just before we left the city (he went and complained to the police about this!)

Those three years of excruciating experience has given way to some calm and peace on this front. We now have two wonderful wheel controllers! Who are not only well behaved but are happy with whatever they are doing and never ask for advances!

They are almost like Srinivasan! Only they are neither portly nor dark and they do not share their joys and sorrows. Without an international driving license I am at their mercy......