The backseat view

Written in 2016

The view from inside my car seemed so much better today.

The Mumbai peak hour traffic was as chaotic as always, the inherent urge of motorists to cut lanes continued unabated and even the rain was not showing any signs of letting up thereby adding to the traffic woes. However, these reasons for sheer frustration on other days seemed nothing more than a mere irritant today.

What was the reason for this transformation? Had I broken the 'patience' barrier and therefore well on the road to attaining nirvana?

The change was effected by a mere 2 feet, which was now separating me from the steering wheel. Life did seem so very different from the backseat of my car. 

After months of deliberation, I had finally hired a driver. I finally felt that I had arrived in life.

As I looked out with pride from my prime position, I could see a very different world from what I would otherwise have seen from behind the steering wheel.

From there, life outside was all about staring at the traffic lights almost willing them to turn green, being wary of pedestrians who suddenly decide to cross the road with one ear on the phone deciding the menu with their maid or both ears glued to the latest Bollywood chartbuster. From there, the focus of my attention would be the fellow motorists whom I would try to outsmart by getting into a few meters of open space in front of them or as happens on most days would myself be outmaneuvered by an over-zealous Formula one auto driver. 

During and after the monsoon months, an additional element would get added to this unenviable list. The Mumbai potholes! These weapons of mass destruction would bring in an extra dimension to my travel. Unlike the UK, where passing a driving test was the ultimate examination of an individual’s capabilities, passing a driving test in India was a cakewalk. What made the UK driving test seem a stroll in the park however is the actual driving on a pothole littered road in the monsoons during peak hour traffic. I can bet a few hundred rupees or more appropriately a few British pounds that the stiff upper lipped driving Instructor would most certainly fail this Indian test. 

Anyway, driving a car in this chaos meant there would be no time nor the inclination to look beyond these objects of unwanted attention.

The backseat of the car however opened up a very different world that I had seen in the past, but in the quest for corporate excellence, had dismissed to some remote corner of my brain.

I could now see the anxious faces of people waiting at a crowded bus stop possibly wondering how and when they would reach their respective destinations.

I could now get a glimpse of the sombre expression of the daily wage laborers waiting in hope for a contractor who would need their skill and therefore possibly provide for that night's vada pav which would pass as their dinner.

I could now see the helpless street dwellers living on the leftovers thrown out by their neighbors living in high rise buildings where the cost of a square feet of space would be more than the money these less fortunate mortals ever hoped to see during their life.

I could now see the patience behind the glares worn by the traffic policemen as they seemed to stand for hours trying to control the unruly motorists many of whom had much higher educational qualifications and sexy designations but who had to be 'monitored' for  their compliance to basic traffic rules.

I could now see the urchins going about their daily chore of begging for alms without realizing that life did provide other alternatives.

I could now see the huge gap between the have’s and the have not’s, the over and under-privileged and the lucky and not so lucky of this world.

My thoughts went back to my college graduation days when after a reasonably long period of struggle, I finally landed a job, I felt I had arrived in life. During my initial days of employment, the only feasible mode of travel to work available for me, was a crowded bus which would never come at the scheduled time. When it would finally arrive, I had to find my way through the mass of hands and feet not to speak of the oily hair and smelly armpits, to get a few inches of space to park my feet. I would stand for almost an hour before the bus took me to my destination. I would envy the fortunate one’s who managed a seat and even curse the even more gifted one’s who slept through this din. However, my real object of jealousy would be the privileged set of people who would proudly be sitting in their Maruti 800 and Maruti Zen’s with the windows rolled up. I could almost feel a gust of cool air caress my face just by looking at them. I realized that I still had some way to go.

It took me a few years before I could reach the echelons of so-called pseudo aristocracy by owning a car. Sitting in the driver’s seat of the Chevrolet Aveo, with the air conditioner in full blast, the stereo with its maximum bass and the speedometer showing a decent 100 kmph, was a dream come true. This time, I did feel I had finally arrived.   

The years went by and as I donated many more hours, days and grey cells to the corporate world, the Aveo gave way to a swankier automatic Honda Civic. As I shifted the car to a cruise mode, the smooth whirr of the Japanese engine and the tubeless tyres sliding over the concrete surface of the Mumbai Pune Expressway brought back the now familiar thought. Was this the moment that I had been waiting for all my life?

Even that was history now as my thoughts came back to the present.  My hair has turned grey from the toil of the corporate world, the health check reports now show numbers in 3 figures and with a modest sprinkling of red and the ears no longer seem surprised when they hear the word ‘Uncle’.

With every passing day, as I see the world outside from the backseat of my car, I begin to wonder. Wasn’t I just another drop in this ocean of people, a drop which does not have an identity, a drop which just ebbs and flows with the tide? As I look around, it is not only me but so many others who seem to be running this race to reach the ultimate pinnacle in life, a destination which is as elusive as the proverbial pot at the foot of the rainbow?  

In this blind dash to the finish, the more important questions in life, which now seem to suddenly come in front of me, are left unanswered until you realize when it is very late that you may have had the answers all along, atleast for some of them.   

“Have I arrived?” This question did not seem important anymore. What matters more is the question “What if I had bothered to listen to the questions being asked by life and paused to answer them?” Would I have made a difference in someone’s life? The fulfillment of the materialistic aspirations now seem so trivial in comparison to the ‘real’ goals that I could have otherwise achieved if I had just paused to look around me.

Who knows, I may not have been sitting in the back seat of a chauffeur driven car but I may have actually arrived in life.

As I hear the faint sound of fire-crackers heralding the onset of Diwali, the spirit of ‘giving’ seems more over-whelming than the fulfillment of the materialistic desires and the lure of the possible corporate success which possibly await me in the coming years.

I only hope it is still not too late.

Coach Ram

https://www.coach-ram.in