The Spark of Curiosity: Fanning the Flames of Passion

 

Shyam's childhood was a constant struggle. With a family to support and no formal education, he often felt left behind while watching other children his age play and learn. But despite his difficult circumstances, Shyam's curiosity burned like a flame deep within him. He hungered for knowledge and was determined to learn whatever he could, wherever he could find it.

Shyam's thirst for knowledge led him to read every piece of printed material he could get his hands on. He devoured books, articles, newspapers, and even discarded wrappers and packaging materials. But Shyam's quest for knowledge did not stop there. He became friends with an old paper mart owner who would give him books and articles to read. He even found a torn dictionary, which he used to teach himself English.

But Shyam's hunger for knowledge was not his only challenge. He also had to support his family, and he decided to become a vegetable vendor to make ends meet. He purchased an old discarded vegetable cart and painted it himself, despite having no painting skills. But with determination and hard work, Shyam transformed the cart into a beautiful and eye-catching display.

Every day, Shyam woke up early to head to the market to purchase vegetables in bulk. He had to carry the heavy bags back home, but he did not let that stop him. He worked tirelessly, day in and day out, arranging the vegetables on his cart and selling them to customers. His dedication and hard work paid off, and he became successful in his business.

But Shyam's life changed drastically when he was able to afford a smartphone with an internet connection. He discovered the power of the internet and enrolled in government programs and free courses, constantly expanding his knowledge and skills.

Shyam's dream was to graduate with a degree, and he did not let anything stand in his way. He enrolled in a night school and completed his 10th and 12th board exams with flying colors. He later went on to earn a degree in Business, and his thesis on vegetable selling won him a best project award.

Today, Shyam is the head of the business unit for an online quickcom company, Rig Basket. He has grown the business tenfold and earned a reputation for his persistence and knowledge. Shyam's journey from a struggling child to a successful business leader is a testament to his hard work, dedication, and unyielding thirst for knowledge.

 

The Inspiring Journey of Chai Boy

 

My name is Murali and I live in Kanpur city. My parents are hardworking people, but we struggle to make ends meet. As the eldest son in the family, I knew I had to do something to contribute to our finances. That's when I started working as a tea supplier in the mornings before school. Balancing studies and work was not easy, but I was determined to succeed. I would wake up early, make and deliver tea to my regular customers, and then head to school. During breaks, I would rush to sell more tea, and after school, I would return to my tea-selling route. I did this every day, even on weekends, to save up money for my future. Despite the challenges, I worked hard and focused on my studies. I spent my evenings studying and completing my homework. I knew that education was my ticket to a better life, and I was not going to let anything get in the way of my dreams. Finally, the day came when I took my 10th-grade board exams. I was nervous, but I had prepared well, and the hard work paid off. I cleared the exam with good marks and was thrilled to learn that I had secured a scholarship for my 12th-grade studies. With the financial support, I could now focus on my studies without worrying about the costs. For the next two years, I continued to work hard, both at school and in my tea-selling business. I knew that this was my chance to make a better life for myself and my family, and I wasn't going to let anything stop me. Finally, the day came when I took my 12th-grade board exams. I was more confident this time, having worked hard for the past two years. And once again, the hard work paid off. I cleared the exam with flying colors, and I was overjoyed to learn that" continue my education as I had secured admission into one of the top engineering colleges in India.

It was a dream come true. I had always wanted to pursue engineering, but with the financial constraints, it seemed like an impossible dream. But now, with the scholarship and the money I had saved from my tea-selling business, I could finally make it a reality.

The first day at college was overwhelming. I had never seen so many people in one place before. I was nervous, but I reminded myself that I had worked hard to get here, and I was not going to let anything stop me.

The next few months were intense. College was challenging, and I had to work harder than ever before. But I was determined to succeed. I spent long hours studying, attending lectures, and working on projects. And whenever I got a break, I would rush to sell tea and make some extra money.

But then, disaster struck. My mother fell ill, and we had to spend a considerable amount of money on her treatment. We were left with very little savings, and I didn't know how we would manage to pay for my college fees.

I was devastated. I had come so far, but now it seemed like everything was falling apart. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't let my mother suffer, but I also couldn't afford to give up on my dreams.

But then, something miraculous happened. My friends and teachers came to know about my situation, and they rallied together to help me. They started a fundraiser for me, and within a few days, we had collected enough money to pay for my college fees and my mother's treatment.

I was overwhelmed with gratitude. I had never imagined that so many people would come forward to help me. It gave me renewed strength and determination to keep working hard and make a better life for myself and my family.

And finally, the day came when I graduated from college with flying colors. It was a moment of immense pride and joy. I had achieved what I had set out to do, and I had done it against all odds.

Looking back, I realized that it was my hard work, determination, and the support of my loved ones that had brought me here. It was not an easy journey, but it was worth it. And now, as I embark on a new phase of my life, I know that I am ready to face whatever challenges come my way, with the same grit and determination that had brought me here.

From Rajasthan to Bangalore: A Carpenter's Journey to Success

 

I grew up in a small village in Rajasthan, where the only thing that mattered was family and hard work. My father was a carpenter, and he instilled in me a love for woodwork from a young age. I remember watching him work with such precision and care, creating beautiful pieces of furniture that would last for generations.

As I grew older, I knew that I wanted to follow in my father's footsteps and become a carpenter myself. But in my village, there were no opportunities for me to learn and grow in this field. So, I made the difficult decision to leave my family and move to Bangalore, where I had heard there were more job opportunities.

I arrived in the city with nothing but the clothes on my back and the determination in my heart. I knew that I had a lot to learn and that the road ahead would not be easy, but I was willing to do whatever it took to achieve my dreams.

After a few days of searching, I finally found a job at an interior design company. It wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but it was a foot in the door, and I was eager to learn and prove myself.

In the beginning, it was tough. I struggled to keep up with the pace of the work and the demands of the job. But I never gave up. I worked long hours, practiced my skills every chance I got, and soaked up every bit of knowledge that I could.

Slowly but surely, I began to make a name for myself at the company. My attention to detail and my dedication to my craft impressed my colleagues and my superiors. I was given more responsibilities and opportunities to work on bigger and more complex projects.

As the years went by, I became more confident in my abilities and more passionate about my work. I was proud of what I had achieved and grateful for the opportunities that Bangalore had given me.

Looking back now, I realize that leaving my village and coming to Bangalore was one of the best decisions I ever made. It was a challenging and often lonely journey, but it was worth it to follow my dreams and become the carpenter that I had always wanted to be.

As much as I loved my new job and the opportunities it brought, living in a big city like Bangalore was not without its struggles. I missed my family terribly and often found myself feeling lonely and homesick. The fast-paced lifestyle and the constant noise and chaos of the city took some getting used to, and there were times when I longed for the peace and quiet of my village.

To make matters worse, I faced discrimination and prejudice from some of my colleagues and superiors at work. Many of them looked down on me because of my humble background and my lack of formal education. They doubted my skills and my ability to succeed in such a competitive and challenging field.

But I refused to let their negativity bring me down. I knew that I had worked hard to get where I was, and that I had a lot to offer as a carpenter and as a person. So, I continued to work hard and prove myself, showing my colleagues and superiors that I was just as talented and dedicated as they were.

Over time, I began to earn their respect and admiration. They saw that I was a valuable member of the team and that my skills and expertise were essential to the success of the company. And as they began to recognize my worth, I began to feel more at home in Bangalore, and more confident in my ability to thrive in this new environment.

Today, I am a respected and successful carpenter, with a reputation for excellence and an ever-growing list of satisfied clients. I have made a new home for myself in Bangalore, surrounded by friends and colleagues who appreciate and value me for who I am. And although I still miss my family and my village, I know that I made the right decision in coming to this city, and that I have found a new family and a new home here.

 

Sweet Success: A Cotton Candy Seller's Journey Through Community Support and Overcoming Adversity

 

I wake up every morning before the sun rises and start my day with a cup of chai. It's the only time I have to myself before I hit the streets of Bangalore to sell cotton candy. I have been doing this for as long as I can remember. Walking over a million steps a day, carrying a bell in one hand, and a big bamboo stick with colorful cotton candies arranged like flowers in the other.

I used to be a factory worker, but when I lost my job a few years ago, I had to find a way to make ends meet. That's when I started selling cotton candy. It wasn't easy at first. I had to learn how to make it, how to find the best spots to sell it, and how to attract customers. But I never gave up.

Every day, I walk from one neighborhood to the next, calling out to people and ringing my bell. I try to make eye contact with children and offer them a taste of my sweet creations. Seeing their faces light up when they taste the cotton candy is what makes all the walking and hard work worth it.

I'm not going to lie, there are days when it's tough. When the sun beats down on me, and my feet ache, and I wonder if it's all worth it. But then, a child will run up to me, their eyes wide with excitement, and ask for a cotton candy, and I know that it is. At the end of the day, I always make sure to bring some cotton candy home to my family. My wife and kids love it, and it makes me happy to bring a little bit of sweetness to their lives. Even if it's just a small gesture, it makes all the walking and struggling worth it. Because at the end of the day, I know that I have brought a little bit of joy to everyone's life.

One day, as I was walking through the bustling streets of Bangalore, I noticed a group of young boys eyeing my cotton candy with interest. I approached them with a smile and offered them each a piece. But before they could take a bite, a man suddenly appeared out of nowhere and began to berate me.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, peddling this junk to innocent children," he shouted. "Don't you know that cotton candy is bad for their health?"

I tried to explain that it was just a treat, something to bring a little bit of joy to their day. But the man would not listen. He continued to berate me, and soon a small crowd had gathered around us.

I felt my heart racing as I tried to defend myself. I had never faced such criticism before, and it made me feel small and insignificant. But then, one of the boys spoke up.

"Leave him alone," he said. "We like his cotton candy. It makes us happy."

The man glared at the boy, but then he seemed to soften. He looked around at the crowd of people and realized that he was in the minority.

"Fine," he muttered before walking away. "But mark my words, one day you will all regret eating that garbage."

As the crowd dispersed, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. It had been a close call, but I had come out on top. And more importantly, I had the support of those young boys, who had stood up for me when I needed it most.

From that day on, I walked a little taller and with a bit more pride. I knew that what I was doing wasn't just about selling cotton candy, but about bringing a little bit of happiness to people's lives. And no matter what challenges lay ahead, I was ready to face them head-on. Because at the end of the day, I knew that I was doing something meaningful, and that was all that mattered.

 As the days went by, I noticed that the man who had criticized me began to show up more frequently. He would stand on the corner and scowl at me as I passed by, muttering under his breath. It was clear that he had a personal vendetta against me and my cotton candy.

At first, I tried to ignore him. But his presence made me uneasy, and I found myself constantly looking over my shoulder. I began to lose confidence in my ability to sell my sweet creations, and my sales began to suffer as a result.

One day, as I was walking past the man's usual spot, he suddenly lunged at me, grabbing hold of my bamboo stick and sending my cotton candies flying.

"Get out of here," he snarled. "I don't want to see you or your cotton candy anywhere near me again."

I felt a surge of anger and frustration wash over me. I had worked hard to build my business, and I refused to let this man tear it down. But I knew that I couldn't do it alone.

So, I turned to the community for help. I spoke to other vendors and local residents, and they all rallied around me. They stood by my side and refused to let this man bully me into submission.

Together, we organized a peaceful protest. We marched through the streets, holding up signs and chanting slogans in support of my cotton candy business. People from all walks of life joined in, from young children to elderly grandmothers. It was a beautiful display of unity and solidarity.

In the end, the man who had been my biggest critic was forced to back down. He realized that he couldn't fight the power of the community, and he slunk away in defeat.

As I walked home that day, I felt a sense of triumph and pride. I had stood up for myself and my business, and I had won. But more importantly, I had learned the power of community and the importance of standing together in the face of adversity. And that was something that would stay with me for the rest of my life.

The Struggle of a Kolkata Rickshaw Puller

 

As I wake up before dawn, I know that another day of hard work awaits me. I am a rickshaw puller in Kolkata, and my life revolves around the roads of this bustling city. But today, like every day, I feel a sense of uncertainty and anxiety as I start my journey.

At the age of 60, I am not as strong as I used to be. My muscles ache, and my back hurts, but I know that I have no other choice. I have no other skills or education to fall back on. This is my only means of livelihood, and I have to work hard to make ends meet.

I start my day by cleaning and oiling my rickshaw. It is an old and worn-out vehicle, but it is my only asset, and I have to take good care of it. As I get ready, I think about the challenges that lie ahead. The traffic in Kolkata is chaotic, and the roads are crowded. It is a constant battle to navigate through the crowds and reach my destination on time.

I start my journey by going to the busy market area. It is where I get most of my customers. But today, luck doesn't seem to be on my side. People are not hiring me. Maybe it is because of my age, or maybe it is because there are too many rickshaw pullers competing for work.

As the day wears on, I become more and more worried. I have a family to feed, and I need to earn enough money to pay for our basic needs. But today, the streets are quiet, and the customers are scarce.

Just when I am about to give up hope, I get a customer. A lady who needs to go to the hospital urgently. She is in a hurry, and I know that I have to get her there quickly. I pedal as hard as I can, ignoring the pain in my muscles and the sweat pouring down my face.

As I drop her off, I feel a sense of relief and satisfaction. I know that I have helped someone in need, and that makes my day a little brighter. But I also know that I need more customers to make enough money to survive.

As the day turns into night, I keep pedaling, hoping to get more customers. But my hopes are dashed as I get no more customers. As I return home, I feel a sense of sadness and defeat. I have worked hard all day, but I have very little to show for it.

As I lie down on my mat, I think about my life and the struggles that I face every day. But I also think about the pride that I feel in being a rickshaw puller. It is not an easy job, but it is an honest one. I may be old, but I am still a hard worker, and I know that I have to keep going to provide for my family.

As I close my eyes, I know that tomorrow will be another day of hard work, uncertainty, and challenges. But I am ready to face them, knowing that I have no other choice but to keep pulling my rickshaw and hoping for a better tomorrow.

 

From Darkness to Dust: The Gritty Life of a Poor Coal Mine Worker in India

 

I am Mani, a young man from a remote village in Chennai. Life has never been easy for me. My family struggled to make ends meet, and I grew up knowing what it means to go hungry for days. But I never gave up. I always believed that if I worked hard enough, I could change my destiny.

When I heard about a job opening in a coal mine, I jumped at the opportunity. It was a dangerous job, but the pay was decent, and I knew that it could provide for my family. So, I packed my bags and headed to the mine.

On my first day at work, I was taken aback by the conditions in the mine. It was dark, dusty, and filled with the sounds of heavy machinery. The air was thick with the stench of coal dust, and it was hard to breathe. But I was determined to make the best of it.

My job was to load coal onto trucks that would take it to the surface. It was back-breaking work, and the hours were long. But I didn't mind. I knew that every load I carried was one step closer to a better life for my family.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. The work was monotonous, and I missed my family back home. But I couldn't give up. I had to keep going, for their sake.

Then, one day, disaster struck. There was an explosion in the mine, and several of my colleagues were injured. I was lucky to escape with minor injuries, but the incident shook me to my core. I realized how dangerous my job was and how easily my life could be snuffed out.

But I couldn't quit. I needed the job, and my family needed the money. So, I went back to work, even though the fear never left me.

Months turned into years, and I became used to the routine. I worked hard, hoping that someday I would be able to save enough money to start my own business and leave the mine behind.

Then, one day, my life took an unexpected turn. I met a woman named Latha, who worked for a non-profit organization that helped workers like me. She saw the conditions we worked in and the risks we took every day, and she was determined to make a change.

Latha introduced me to other workers like me, and together, we started to organize. We demanded better pay, better working conditions, and safety measures that would protect us from accidents like the one I had experienced.

At first, the mine owners ignored us, but we didn't give up. We staged protests, and we reached out to the media, telling our stories and exposing the exploitation we faced.

Finally, after months of struggle, we won. The mine owners agreed to our demands, and we saw improvements in our working conditions and pay.

Today, I look back on my life and feel proud of what I have achieved. I am no longer just a worker in a coal mine. I am a part of a movement that fights for the rights of workers like me.

But I also know that there are still many like me out there, struggling to make ends meet and working in hazardous conditions. I hope that my story can inspire them to fight for their rights and never give up on their dreams. And I hope that someday, we can create a world where no one has to risk their lives just to put food on the table.

 

Rainy Day Resilience: A Mumbai Dabbawala's Tale of Kindness and Perseverance

As a Mumbai Dabbawala, every day is an adventure. Each day brings its own set of challenges, from navigating the bustling city streets to overcoming unexpected weather conditions. But one day in particular stands out in my memory as a true test of my resilience and determination.

It was a day like any other, except for the fact that the rain was coming down in sheets, making it difficult to see and move around. I had never seen rain like this before in Mumbai. The streets were flooded, and the Mumbai local train system was shut down due to the extreme weather conditions. This meant that I had to rely on my bicycle to make my rounds, which was no easy feat.

I knew I had a long day ahead of me, and the thought of being drenched in rainwater for hours on end was not appealing. But as a dabbawala, it is my duty to deliver the homemade meals to their destinations on time, no matter what the circumstances.

So I packed the tiffin boxes with extra care, knowing that they would be exposed to the elements for a long time. I wore my raincoat and set off on my bicycle, determined to fulfill my responsibilities despite the rain. As I rode through the flooded streets, I could feel my clothes getting soaked, and my bike was becoming heavier with each passing minute. But I kept going, my mind focused on the task at hand. I had to make sure that the food reached its intended recipients, who were waiting for their homemade meals.

Then, in the midst of the rain and chaos, I saw her - a young girl sitting on the side of the road, crying. She looked lost and scared, and I knew I had to help her. I pulled over and asked her what was wrong, and she told me she had been separated from her parents in the storm and didn't know where to go.

Without a second thought, I took her under my wing and offered to help her find her parents. We rode together on my bike, and I could feel her trembling against my back. But I knew I had to be strong for her and keep going.

We rode through the flooded streets, asking people for directions and hoping we were going in the right direction. Finally, after what felt like hours, we found her parents, who were waiting anxiously for her.

The relief on their faces was palpable, and they thanked me profusely for my help. It was a small moment of joy in an otherwise challenging day, but it was enough to make all of my struggles worth it.

After ensuring that the young girl had been reunited with her family, I resumed my rounds, my clothes still soaked and my bike heavier than before. But I was determined to complete my tasks, to ensure that the homemade meals reached their intended recipients on time.

It was a difficult and tiring day, but I made it through with a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. As a dabbawala, I take pride in my work, knowing that it serves a greater purpose than simply delivering food. It is about helping people, bringing a smile to their faces, and making their lives a little bit easier.

Being a Mumbai Dabbawala is more than just a job. It is a way of life, one that requires resilience, determination, and a willingness to help others. Despite the challenges that come with the job, I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. The feeling of making a positive impact in someone's life, even on the most challenging of days, is priceless.

  

Small Stage, Big Heart: The Unpretentious Entertainer's Tale

 “Sir, would you like to have a drink?” she asked me as she halted her cart, I smiled and responded, “yes, a cup of black tea… thank you”. She served the tea and moved to the next passenger repeating the same question. Sipping the hot tea, I listened the pilot announce a turbulence warning, instructing the passengers and cabin crew to be seated at their respective places. Flying at 38000 feet high piercing through clouds, my heart was filled with contentment and happiness. My father’s dream of his son becoming a star entertainer had come true.

             My ancestors were nomads. The nomadic families spent all their lives moving from place to place for their livelihood, early nomads were hunters-gatherers who moved along with their livestock, these days nomads are generally fortunes tellers, ayurvedic healers, acrobats, traders, basket makers, story tellers, singers, performers, tattooists, vets, stone workers and do many other odd jobs.

My grandfather had to give up the nomadic life a few years after my father's birth and settle, as my ailing grandmother could no longer keep pace with wandering life. My father as a young boy had experienced nomadic living. My grandparents settled in a small hamlet. Bamboo basket making was the skill grandparents inherited which they did to earn daily bread and other odd jobs. My father took up the same profession as my grandfather, along with pottery. My father was married to a girl, now my dear mother, from a fortune-telling family.

I arrived into this world as a bundle of joy to my parents and grandparents. My mother said to me often, that I was born during the festival of lights. My maternal grandpa who predicted my fortunes promulgated that I will make my presence in people’s hearts by entertaining them. He could not have been more precise with his prediction of my fortunes.

             "Flight will begin its descent towards Hong Kong International Airport" announced the pilot. Hong Kong, the city where I will be attending the opening of the Grand Indian Hotel is minutes away now. The Grand Indian Hotel Group is a group of hotels that has its roots in India. For many years, the hotel group has maintained its imperial reputation as one of the finest and most valued hotel groups in India. When the hotel business was taken over by the new blood of the family, the new chairman had decided to spread their hotel business to neighboring countries. I am glad to attend the majestic inauguration of the new Grand Indian Hotel at Hong Kong.

             Folk music was always part of my life, singing folk songs while working is a routine for the nomads. As a kid, I always enjoyed the songs my grandmother and mother taught me. The songs embraced tales from mythology, Kings, Heroes, and The Warriors. With the death of my maternal grandpa who predicted my fortunes, grandma started to stay with us at our home. Loved by my parents and grandparents, I was a pampered child who wanted to be an entertainer.

             With the passing seasons, I grew up following my dreams of being a star. Whole World would have advised me to go to Mumbai for being an aspiring star, but I went to Delhi to find my fortunes as it was nearer to my hamlet geographically. Surprised by the mammoth city size and population, I was not sure if I could survive a day longer here, but with a determined mind, I started wandering from pillar to post in search of a job, often sleeping on pavements and parks, eating what I could afford with the little money I had.

One fine day I found a job in a big hotel as cleaning staff, I cleared the garbage every day. The hotel was called the Grand Indian Hotel. I even washed the hotel cars and even watered the plants and did all the jobs which they asked me to do. Often, I would get to eat the leftover meat and strange dishes which I had never heard of or seen before.

             With the kitchen help who mopped the floor quitting the job, I was offered the job in the kitchen cleaning department. Mopping the floor and clearing the garbage was my daily duty. At times, while working in the kitchen, I would hear the music, when the kitchen doors were swung open by the walking waiters. The waiters walked in and out of the kitchen carrying out food or bringing in orders from the customers. The performers performed in the dining hall entertaining the guests as they enjoyed their meal. I always wanted to watch the performance but I was restricted from entering.

             It was natural for me to sing as I worked, the kitchen staff never complained when they heard me sing as I did my cleaning duties. The kitchen staff always seemed welcoming and happy to hear me sing. It was a usual day when my life changed, I was singing a folk song, and as I mopped the kitchen floor, the hotel manager must have accidentally heard me sing. He then must have probed about me with the head cook, who in turn would have told the manager that I was hired to mop floors and was a kitchen cleaning help.

The head cook rushed towards me and told me, “Bansi! The Manager wants to see you at the hotel foyer at once… rush up boy!!”. I walked slowly as I was freaked out that I might lose my job, with cold feet and shivering hands I made it up to the foyer and address the manager who stood in a black suit with the Grand Indian Hotel decorated on his suit blazer, I said politely “Sir!” He smiled and responded at once “so you are a singer?, sing the songs you know, I want to hear you”. I sang as he recorded me singing on his phone and he went away as though nothing happened, I went back and resumed my work.

             The following evening the manager again called me before the hotel was open to guests, to a room on the second floor of the hotel where he usually seated. As I walked into the room I saw there were a group of people watching the video of me singing which was recorded by the Manager. The Manager again made me sing, which was a classical music group that was looking for folk singers. The musicians felt that I can sing a few folk songs and entertain people when the main singers needed a break to rest their voices. On this note, I was asked to practice with the performing team on a daily basis while also continuing my daily duty in the kitchen. I was given a little raise in my wages. 

             Months passed as I practiced songs with the group and did my kitchen duty. The music group felt I was kind of stage ready. With this, I was provided with a dress that looked like folk attire decorated with the Grand Indian Hotel logo embroidered neatly on it. I had more and more rehearsals on the stage before I was one day made to sing for a live audience, I sang my favorite song which my mother had taught me, and I felt so emotional that my eyes were filled with tears as the audience clapped. I missed my mother the most that evening.

             With applause for my singing, I was more than happy and my heart leaped in joy all evening. Later at night, I wrote a letter to home which said, I no longer only mopped floors and helped in the kitchen, but I also sing for the hotel guests and my wages have been increased. Soon I would be regular at the stage of this hotel. I posted the letter the next day, however as the Grand Indian Hotel Group had many hotels in the city and other cities I started moving with the music team from one city to another and from one hotel to another.

Grand Indian Hotel had multiple performers group, the classical and folk group, the western music band, jazz music, and the hard rock band, the hotel management followed the rotation policy for these groups such that all their hotel guests got all the musical flavors. I always sang folk songs and danced as guests enjoyed their meals. Not all appreciated the singing, some really cared to listen to my voice some just ignored it. I had come to terms that one cannot please all. 

             I had worked for this hotel chain in India for a long and won the trust of management in entertaining the guests, when the hotels were being established in neighboring countries such as China, I was moved to China to entertain the Indian guests and Chinese guests in Mainland. I started working as a performer, singing and dancing for the guests full time, I had no other duty but to entertain guests wearing the best of the best clothing provided by the management. My fortunes had come true, I was an entertainer, and my grandfather's predictions had come true.

              I have entertained the celebrities, whom I adored all my life had arrived as guests at The Grand Indian. My life has given me opportunities to meet my role models and take pictures with them. Today, I am performing at yet another international destination. I travel with the music performers, I travel in cars, in buses, in planes. I wear the best costumes, I act, I perform, I sing and dance to entertain people. Nomadic people did the same, they wandered with their team, they walked, they wore costumes, they acted they performed, they sang they entertained people. 

The plane lands, but my thoughts take off, “Aren’t the nomads the unpretentious entertainers already? Was I not an entertainer then? Am I a nomad still?”

Behind the Wheel: A Taxi Driver's Memoir

For few, the day never ends, I am one of them. As I pull the hand brakes and kill my car's engine to park the car on the edge of lonely street and logging-off from the taxi aggregator's mobile app, I try to rest, sacrificing the comfort of the bed by choosing hard rubber reclining seat of my car with an old dusty pillow. Supper was usual from a food wagon. As I rest, I hear the dogs howling on the cold winter night, occasionally seeing them chase the passing cars, scanty traffic and city lights are my friends tonight. As I gaze at the hazy sky from my shabby car's windshield, thoughts tend to keep me busy, thoughts of today bringing a sigh of satisfaction, thoughts of tomorrow seeming fearful and thoughts of past regretful. Life moves on so swiftly, it appeared just days before I dropped out of my studies when I was 20, it was not the virtuous choice I made as a young man, how now I feel my life would have been contented, had I put petite efforts in my studies and graduated to find a desk job, but life had something else in store for me, cramped legs and fatigued toes, strained eyes tell stories of their own.

             Struggling to find a comfortable resting position, I remember how dwelling in city was a dream which came naturally to me as young small town bloke, I was influenced by guys from my town working in the city. I often would see them in town during festivals or family functions returning in their cars. Most of the city dwellers of my town were of my age and often my school mates. They drove cars in city for the livelihood, serving the IT companies and BPOs by driving their employees for their daily commute. They looked happy, their families bragged about their achievements. With no jobs in town, diminutive interest in studies and no family lands to cultivate crops, I ardently decided that I want to be one of those who drove taxi for wages. I convinced my family that I would make a decent living by driving taxi in city, parents were hesitant but soon agreed as I had never seemed so confident with my decision. With goal set and friends to help me impart their driving skills, I trained few corners behind the wheels, and passed the Driver’s License test, I felt I have arrived.

             With the newly printed DL in my hands, I sniffed the plastic card and it smelled like success, making a few color duplicates laminating the same, packing my bags I arrived into the city to drive around the commuters, I was petrified as I was unware of city roads and only person I could bet on was my best mate, with whom I shared a room now. The next day he took me to his Boss, who was stout man in his early fifties, curly hair and had enough gold around his neck to make any women mortified. With my friend’s endorsement of my trustworthiness, his boss readily agreed to employ me as a driver for one of his cars. Soon I was assigned the jobs for IT companies the BPO, the airport drops, the mid night drops, the outstation drives, I learnt the city roads as back of my palm, I met people who spoke different languages, who worked in different environments, the AC requesters, the smokers, the loud music listeners, the non-music lovers all sort of people whom I have drove to their offices, homes, hotels, resorts to all possible destinations in city and outstations. Some passengers tipped handful and encouraged me and few who weren’t pleased with my services, it was a lesson for lifetime that, one cannot please everyone.

             My boss was happy with my work, my friend was happier to have recommended me and my family was the happiest for everything, I had lived my dream of returning to my home during festivals and functions just like the way other guys did. I always wondered if I were to be an inspiration to other town’s kids who wanted to drive taxi. Life went on and few years went past, I had saved enough from my earnings to make down payment for a new car, and the rest I could borrow loan from bank pledging the collaterals. I was confident with my hard work I could manage to be as big as my boss one day, who had a humble beginning just like me and now owned his own fleet agency and provided employment to guys like me. Buying a new car would not have been more joyous than my parents coming to city to take the delivery of the car from showroom. With my mother and father as first passengers to bring me luck, and returning to our town in OUR CAR felt like stepping on the moon.

             Back in the city, upon recommendation of a friend I joined hands with a fast-growing cab aggregator company, soon life changed for better I earned four times as much as I did when I worked for my ex-Boss. With my new car, new mobile with customer location map, promising incentives schemes, soft skill training and now I was part of revolution in Indian taxi industry. I had numerous friends who were my peers in city, with whom I discussed our daily trips, experiences and often cribbed about nasty and irate customers. Often, I asked my passengers their wages and when they said it, I always felt I made more money than any usual desk job guy.

             Things have begun to change for the worse, with never ending supply of taxis and drivers in rapidly growing city, private vehicles getting multiplied, the traffic getting worse with each passing day. The roads appearing narrow and average commuting time getting longer, driving is getting harder, increasing diesel prices, reduced incentives have slowed the revolution of the wheels. With the earnings reducing and competition increasing, future looking uncertain with only tomorrow’s booking confirmed I set alarm and close my eyes to sleep.

Alarm beeping and it’s time to greet the customer,” HOLA!! I am sUPERb Driver ”