Kasa Kai Cabbie?

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Taxiiiiii I yelled. Bandra chaloge?

SV road se jaoge toh traffic milega kya? Aisa karo Linking road se chalo, I suggested without waiting for his reply, as I got into the cab.

Hill road lena ha, I said vaguely.

Tum log kaise gaadi chalaate ho. Right ka signal toh do. Arre red light mein se nikal gaye? Arre thuko mat! Yeh tumhare UP Bihar ka rasta nahin hai.

A Ganesh idol adorned with a shoeflower perched at the centre of the windshield, listened calmly.

Arre horn kaiko nahin diya usko.

Arre kitna horn bajate ho khaliphukat. Dekho police ne pakad liya. Ab tumhari vajah se late ho jayega.

The cop was already by our side as we pulled up.

Lisense? Chal jaldi kar.

Jau dya na sahib, Madam ghait ahet. Tyanna lavkar pohochayche ahe, cabbie began the bargain.

Cop: Arre Lane cut keli na

Cabbie: Maaf kara na, last time

He speaks Marathi? I wondered. And then it hit me like a sudden brake. How can they afford to not know the language. It is a professional requirement. Politicians can continue to wrangle over the issue, but how can we miss the obvious. Everyone who drives in the city is liable to be caught by cops. And anyone who is caught switches to the language as if programmed. Learning functional Marathi is part of learning to drive a cab. Maharashtrian or migrant, all cabbies are bad (or good depending on your point of view) drivers. And as a wise writer once said-A cop’s whistle knows no language.

Author: Prachi Wagh | Published Jan 22, 2010 | 12:00:00 AM

Loves and lives Mumbai. Journalist and traveler. The city is home. It is also a way of life. The city that makes me who I am, every day, all the time....