It was just another evening and I was coming by a private taxi from office to home. Since I stay very far it takes me more than an hour, in general, to reach home and thus it gives me an ample opportunity to pursue my reading habits. On a similar note, on this day as soon as I boarded the taxi and made myself comfortable, I was just about to open my kindle and just then taxi driver started a conversation thread with me. He was asking me about the local school’s information where he would like to get his daughter admitted to. At the first glace, I was quite baffled as he seemed quite young and definitely he doesn’t seem to be an “adult”. I took a long pause & then suggested him certain inputs as I just did some research on schools for my “barfi”. (Barfi is my daughter, BTW). The conversation didn’t end there but it just took a different swerving with him telling me that once you become an adult, life’s outlook changes dramatically. Although I just hummed to his statement and it stroked me profoundly and I was just wondering within myself as when do you become an adult? Everyone has their own answers for this. I have heard few saying that they become adults when they leave home for college, when they make decisions on their own, when they become elders in the family. Others link it to their first kiss, or more prosaically, their first paycheck. With all the myriad of thoughts, I just couldn’t stop myself and thought of asking him when did he became an adult? Without taking a gap, he said to me that he became an adult when his parents died.
I thought about this for a long time just to realize that we become an adult when our parents become our child. It is the moment when you start dictating their life and their choices when you become the protector rather than the protected. And this surely has nothing to do with age or innocence.
The first time it happened to me was in the year 2015 when my Dad used to have his regular dialysis done twice a week and I used to pick him up after the procedure. If I remember right, one day I got very much delayed to pick him up and by the time I reached there, it was almost two and half hours late. I rushed up hurriedly to the center just to realize that my dad was sharing his laughter with some strangers. Seeing him, at that moment just made me recollect our childhood days wherein I used to wait after the school-hours for my father to pick up and in case he is late, I never used to worry even an iota percentage rather spend that extra hour or so with my fellow schoolmates or sometimes alone playing. Back in my mind, I was supremely sure that no matter what happens, my dad will come to pick me up. Maybe that day when I saw him waiting for me post dialysis I got the first sense of being an adult J
Also, I have never heard my parents say, “I love you” to each other. Not even once. I have not seen them hug in public unless my uncle's forces them to do this for one of those “everyone hug each other” family clan selfies. Even then, my parents do this awkwardly. Their relationship is rooted so deep, it is beyond the realm of words or date nights or flowers on anniversaries. My mother can foresee my father’s arrival always. And I know this because her prediction never went wrong, not even once. Also, when my Dad calls my Mom, he always begins, “It is me” I always keep wondering, Who else would it be? J. This is the rhythm of their life. This is the rhythm of their love.
Well, as they say “mind not only wanders but sometimes it leaves us completely”….so was the case with me until I realized that the taxi has almost reached my home and I felt some of the warmest, friendliest exchanges I could possibly be had and it helped me so much to have a deeper understanding of myself…...
We all have Same hopes, same dreams, same emotions.
So, next time you find yourself in a taxi, try striking up a conversation with the driver. You’ll learn a lot about them as a person and even the place in which you are in; you might even get a great restaurant tip in the process.
Cheers,
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