A Rick-ety ride back

Friendship for me has nowadays made me a little wary before plunging in it, though I still retain my old habit of making people feel comfortable in my company.

In Gurgaon, I prefer my computer to friends.

Although for the past few months, my spirits are feeding on to some passing chunks of delights. Precisely when I get up on a rickshaw queuing up at IFFCO chowk, thirsting for a passenger, and more so for a fat customer like me. They are all Bengali Moslems from Malda district in West Bengal (a fact tat I have known for the last 6 years) And invariably, they know all the people among their cluster very well, which provides a little consolation to their longing wait for a passenger, when it doesn’t rain. I am a hot property among the Rick wallahs in IFFCO chowk. They know that every day this guy in thick specs and carrying an oversized bag would approach one of us and take a ride till Supermart area for a fair (according to them) or a fat (according to me) sum. It’s a treat to watch their excitement that who will be the lucky one to ply me to my destination as soon as they see me approaching me from a distance. At times I feel embarrassed and very indecisive when a bevy of dark skinned nerve protruding reed like structures, with flies hovering around their uncleaned body stand in front of me advertising themselves and their rickety ricks, and unfailingly cursing other rick wallahs who try to lure me to that hard wooden seat, seemed to be made comfortable by a cushiony cover. But its unmistakable to notice a gleam of fun in their day long strained faces, highlighting poverty, dissatisfaction and a million wishes unfulfilled, as they start their bids. Its fun for me but I still feel the pangs of maybe upsetting the others as soon as I board a rickshaw. To solve this problem I always try not to repeat taking the same rick for consecutive days. I believe it’s a fair practice. After crossing the first polluted and smoke blurting signal, I always offer the rick wallah a biscuit from my tiffin and we continue our journey munching those simple snacks. I have heard so many stories on the way from them about them-family, monthly income, an accident that they have faced; about their families back in Malda-their properties, the feuds within their brothers, how Didi has brought in smiles to their faces after decades of fearing the left and so on. Yes the roofs are low and the ride is a bumpy one, but I seem to enjoy these simple, carefree and unpretentious conversations with them. Moreover they also feel good to steal a discussion or two with their passengers, that too in their native language. As I pay them after the ride, I don’t look at their faces lest that I see a glint of disappointment in them.

But a strain of undercurrent still remains. They are not totally devoid of that money minded mentality. And there have been many days that I need a rick desperately, maybe during rains or something, but don’t find them.

So I still don’t trust them, neither do I try to be really close to them. The old, unassuming, demanding, reckless unsuspecting and unaware-of-my-own-doings nature of me has subsided…for good.