Chauffeur. Or as fellow Puneites will lovingly call, Driver. He who drives, cleans and knows about a vehicle more than we do. He who has little backhand deals with some chosen workshops and petrol pumps. He who hides some hooch in the dicky. He who keeps stubs from all petrol pumps and advises us on cashback points available in the pumps he wants us to go to. He who knows the engine. He who reminds us about insurance. He who has no mercy on other vehicles on roads. He who gets off at a chosen spot near University Road for a pee against the university wall. Damn the education behind that wall.
This particular man who chose this profession with me, let’s call him Ravi, walked into my office one day through a referral. Knowing my predilection to be at the mercy of every passing driving professional, he already knew I would offer him the position on the spot. That happened. So, started the circus. He came home every morning on a ratty bike. Parked his bike. Prepped the car and off we went all over town, wherever the work took me.
The household was in thrall with Ravi. Ravi bought vegetables for the Mother. He took Missus to Shanivar Peth at the right times. And managed Parking there too. He took the daughter to school a few times. He coached her on road etiquettes. He even once stood on the concourse where the school buses went in and out and directed traffic as he felt, only he felt, that it was a chaos.
One day, we are in the car. I am my normal brooding self. I am tapping out some SMSes. Suddenly our man says, “Woh mera plot hai”.
What, where, how?
“Sir, woh mera hi plot hai. Mera baap usko bechne ko dekh raha.”
I stare at the plot of land. It is large. It is near NIBM. It is more than large, it is humongous. I ask him whether this was ancestral.
He said, “Yes, it was. Abhi mera nana mere naam pe likhke gaya. Mera baap ka uspe nazar hai. Bahut tension mein hun.”
I asked why.
“Kya haina mera baap ne doosra shaadi kiya kuch saal pehle, aur yeh sab doosri biwi ko de daalega!”
I was naturally horrified and asked him how it was possible. The land is in his name. He has been assigned the land by his grandfather. So how was it possible?
“Mera baap bahut karaamaati hai, iss liye tension mein hun!”
We laughed a bit about his Dad. The Dad with two wives. Turns out the second wife was nearly Ravi’s age. Cool Dad.
Finally, I asked. How much was being offered for the land?
He paused, glanced at me and smiled. “75 Crores” he said.
I paused. Gulped. Kept quiet. Best to do so.
Many years passed. I got in touch again. He still drives a car. For Ola. The land is being litigated. He is hopeful. Hope is a big thing.
- Beta MBA nahin kiya? - November 23, 2016
- Indraneel Majumdar: The Day I went in search of Lakes - November 15, 2016
- Indraneel Majumdar: Roop Tera Mastana - November 8, 2016
