Name : Darshan Kumar.
Age: 75
Occupation : Cab Driver.
“I, along with my friend, got down at Sion station and started looking
for black and yellow cabs to IMAX Wadala to watch Avengers. But none of
the cabs were ready to go. And then came this old man who agreed to take
us along. As soon as I got in, I noticed that he was very old, shaky
hands, stammering voice. I was really surprised to see how this
old Grandpa was driving this black and yellow cab and why was he
driving it? I couldn't hold myself from getting in conversation with
him.
.
.
(He first took another unfamiliar road, so I immediately asked.)
Me:" Ji, why are we going this way? Isn't Wadala the opposite way?"
He:"Beta, mai toh chhota rasta le ja rah huun. Imandari ki kamai karke
khata hun. Agar aapko udhar se sahi lage toh gadi modlu?"(I’m using a
shortcut and if you think I should go by the other way, you can tell
me.)
Me:"Nahi ji, theek hai, aapko jaise sahi lage".(No, it’s okay.)
(after a while...)
Me: "Ji, how old are you?"
He(Grandpa): "Beta, I am 75."
.
.
Me: "Why are you driving at THIS age? Is it because of your passion or compulsion?"
He: "Beta, I don't have any helping hands. My children are good for
nothing. I have to earn my living BUT begging is beyond my attitude. So,
you may call it a compulsion but I am doing it for myself."
(I was like "RESPECT YOU SIR" from inside, mute for a moment.)
Me: "How long have you been in this profession?"
He:"Since last 50 years."
Kunal(My friend): "So can you see clearly?"
He:"You observe it yourself beta, I am driving smooth and like a gentleman."
.
.
(All of us laughed at this.)
He:"Thanks to good Lord that unlike many old people of my age, I am
physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually fit. I will continue
with my service as long as I live. But I will never beg."
Kunal:"Where are you originally from?"
He:"I am from Punjab."
Me:"We both did our engineering from Kurukshetra, so we are quite acquainted with Haryana and Punjab."
.
.
He:"My eldest son, he is in Panipat, doing some business of motor part
and earning in crores. But he doesn't want me. I have a daughter who is
married to a rich guy in Delhi and they also have their own business.
She doesn't want me either. My youngest son is an officer in some good
bank. He kept me with him for about three months, used to give me Rs.
1500/- as monthly expenses. But the other two didn't like it and were
constantly taunting him about this. I didn't feel good about it so left
them with their lives and came to Mumbai to earn my living."
.
.
(We were speechless...)
Me:"So where is your wife?"
He:"She passed away."
Me:"So you live alone here?"
He:"Yes beta, I live nearby Parle in a rented room. I pay Rs. 2500 as
rent, have my own kitchen and cook my own food. I go home and wash this
cloth immediately and wear it tomorrow AGAIN. During day, I drive. That
simply sums up my life here. But I am positive. I don't count days, I
work to make each day fruitful."
Me:"I really appreciate your
enthusiasm. In this country where there are beggars turned to
billionaires you are proudly struggling to earn your life. We are really
inspired by your enthusiasm and we respect you for that."
.
.
(He felt good about it and smiled back.)
By then we had reached IMax Wadala and surprisingly the fare was approximately Rs. 10/- less than my usual routes.
I gave him hundred rupees and said,” Sir, please keep the change.
Consider it as a small token of respect from us for your honesty and
positivity towards life."
He really felt very happy and said "Thank you beta."
I then asked him "Can I take a picture of you? I wish to share your
thoughts and ideas on Internet. Your work can inspire many people out
there. Also, after seeing you, if any Mumbaikar noticed you on internet
and found you on road driving, they would ALWAYS choose your cab over
others.
He," Ha-ha, sure beta."
.
.
I clicked his picture, shook hands with him and bid farewell. I really felt so glad to have met him.
Darshan Kumar's story deserves a share, so please share this guy’s story and motivate the generation.”
Submitted By :Dipesh Karki via The Analytical Indian
If there is one brand in India that has managed to create
a niche for itself without spending a penny on advertisements, it is
Royal Enfield. (There is Old Monk, of course, but I don’t like to ‘mix drink and drive’!).
Amidst the barrage of asinine bike ads, ridiculous names for bikes
(Hunk, Glamour), and vehicles specially designed for men, women,
children, and pet dogs, Royal Enfield has managed to stick out as a
brand with immense recall value.
Called ‘Bullet’ across the length and breadth of the country, Royal
Enfield continues to churn out bikes that have encapsulated themselves
to a legendary status.
From hippie heroes of the 70s, to dapper grandsons of actors today,
everybody looks up to Bullets as vehicles of God. A Bullet also
automatically elevates your status into a hippie, pot-smoking Adonis
(most often in your own mind!)
But scratch a little deeper, and you’ll find a harrowed, harassed, heckled owner.
For, this is the sad reality of a Bullet Owner.
Repairs
You’ve bought the bike, and you’re feeling like the king of the world. But little do you know, this is just the honeymoon phase.
In a few days, you feel the first signs. You smell a little oil, only
to look down at the engine and notice an oil leak. Just a minor glitch,
you tell yourself, and carry on with your job of being the God of the
world.
In a few days, you realise the smell has been following you all
around. When you cross stray dogs, they raise their heads and sniff at
your bike. When you look down, you notice the entire area has turned
black with dried oil and dust.
‘Just a minor glitch’, you tell yourself, and park your bike by the
side of the road. You bend down to wipe off the leaking oil with a piece
of rag cloth.
In half an hour, you stand up – your shirt has black stains all over,
your hands feel stiff and coarse. You smell of oil and grease, and
before you know it, you are one with your bike!
Mechanic
When you own a Bullet, the relationship between you and your mechanic
is an unbreakable bond. In fact, when your mechanic sees you, he
flashes a wide grin, doing a mental calculation of all the goodies he’s
going to buy his children that night.
For you see, when you have a Bullet, you not only maintain your bike,
but also run the household expenses of your mechanic. Your bike will
demand a new repair every week, and nobody on earth will seem dearer to
you than your mechanic.
Costly repairs
A Bullet is not a Hero Honda. It does not rely on vagaries like low
maintenance and quick repairs. A Bullet is a hand-crafted labour of
love, and it’s no wonder that you have to shell out copious amounts of
cash to keep it in running shape.
It takes you back to the medieval days of kings and knights, when
there were favourite horses that were pampered and taken care of. If you
are Alexander, your bike is Bucephalus. If you are Rana Pratap, your
bike is Chetak (not the Bajaj variety!).
No wonder then, that it needs to be pampered and well-maintained.
Mileage
Let’s face it. If you purchase a Bullet, you have already given up hopes of mileage.
Those are for lesser mortals. You are God; surely you can’t worry about such trivialities?
Your Bullet gives you style, status, and instant eyeballs. However,
mileage is not one of its strong points. So if you purchased the bike on
EMIs, or borrowed money from somebody, you are in for a ride.
Every journey entails a mental calculation of how far the bike will
go, where the nearest petrol pump is, and how much you shell out.
Without your knowledge, you transform into a Shakuntala Devi – doing
mental calculations at the speed of light.
If your calculations slip up, the Bullet gives you a terrific
opportunity to keep in physical shape as well. For when the bike stops,
you have to push the monster yourself, using all your will-power and
physical energy to move it a few metres.
Yes. A Bullet helps you keep in top physical and mental shape.
Girlfriend
Most people simply assume that Bullet riders get a lot of girlfriends.
You can’t blame them either. I mean, the Bullet has a terrific brand
image. You can hear it from a distance, and it symbolizes toughness and
stability, both traits that women love.
It is no wonder that Bullet riders are looked at as players. However, there is a darker side to it as well.
Like I said earlier, a Bullet is not merely a bike, it is a horse. And horses have moods as well.
So you’re enjoying a romantic ride with your girlfriend, she’s got
her hands around you, and you are looking at her through the rear-view
mirror, wondering how you two got so close so quickly (Objects in the
mirror are closer than they appear).
And right then, thud..thud…thud…your bike slowly comes to a halt.
You smile, get down, and bend down with the confidence of Valentino
Rossi’s personal mechanic. In reality, you have no frigging clue what’s
wrong. You think of your mechanic, and pray to God to help you out.
You tinker with a few wires, poke at spokes, and turn some screws.
But deep within, you know the truth. You know that you are like Shakti
Kapoor in a high level Nuclear Science seminar – absolutely no idea
what’s going on!
You kick and you press, you turn and twitch, and if the gods above
are kind, your bike starts off again. You ride along, smile, and try to
make conversation. But deep within, there is a lurking fear that it
might stop at any given point of time.
So that is it, dear world.
You see the glamour, the glitz, the style. What you don’t see, is a
man whose morals, believes, and feelings have been twisted. He is a
changed man.
You know that loud, drumming noise that comes from a Bullet when it approaches you?
That is the sound of the rider’s heartbeat, wondering when it might stop next.
And yet, ask any Bullet rider if he’d swap his bike for anything, and watch as he frowns at you like you asked for his kidney.
For you see, a Bullet is not just a bike.
A Bullet is a friend, a brother, a spoilt cousin. It is your naughty son, your wise grandfather.
A Bullet is your soulmate.
And even soulmates have foul moods, sometimes!
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