Glassed walls of constriction; yet of comfort, and Sisyphean freedom. Vallisneria and strands of new born Java Fern muddles the few daring rays which made entries into the cloudly water. The little fish look at each other, crib, and gasp bubbles of discontentment. The Goldfish is showing off too much gold. The Black Molly is darkening up the place. The Swordtail Tetra’s comments are too sharp. The Siamese fighter eats too much. Encapsulated in their little glass pond, they breathed big bubbles against the walls. The world looks big and weird with the concavity.
That frog there.. Is that really a frog? Or is that a toad? Is it here to eat us up? Is she here to lay eggs? Yup, tadpoles for us to eat! Its a she? Horrible taste in skin, she should appeal for a better one…
And thus the fishes kept theorising life, the frog, and other miscellaneous things.
Fishpond.
*
Ladies, gentlemen, please welcome Meter Jam. A honest attempt by honest folk to give a dose of ‘their own medicine’ to dishonest autorikshaw drivers in a few major cities in India.
So whats it all about? Autorikshaw drivers are known for being notorious in cities like Bengaluru, Chennai, and Mumbai. Some won’t stop for you. Some will insult you. Some charge you extra. Some have tampered-with fare metres. Some adjust their rear-view mirrors to check out your breasts. These some hate you. They detest you. Just like you hate them. And Meter Jam is about giving them a ‘dose of their own medicine’ by refusing them, today, on the 12th of August, 2010.
But did you know that you are the result of these some being the way they are? Oh yes. You. You, me, all of us. I say you because this conversation is happening inside your head. There is no me, only you. Did you ever stop to think why they are the way they are?
Stung by poverty and hate, ignored and belittled in their own land, faced with stark economic opposition from the new big clan of people who live in an imaginary world earning ten or twenty times more than them, with nothing to aspire for, with the harsh antagonists of horrible traffic, irate drivers, and corrupt policemen per diem, they lead lifes filled with problems, real problems, those which cannot be solved by fancy, multi-node algorithms.
And you, dear sir, ma’am, made them the way they are today, by refusing to smile or acknowledge their humanness as they struggle to cope with life and death. You did it, by treating them as machines, as part of the autos they drive, as a system. They were not. You made them that way.
Each time you haughtily climb into an auto and flip out your mobile, each time you treat that driver with scorn, each time you battle with the driver for five units of currency, each time you scream at them, you make them more that way. Each time you oppose them, you create their new existence as a dumb system. Like a soft-drink vending machine.
Did you ever try talking to that driver? Ever asked him* if he had a wife and children? What his children did? If he had lunch? If he wanted a toffee? If he liked A R Rahman? If he could read? Of his opinion on the nuclear liability bill? About life insurance?
You bust forty five rupees on a cappuccino in Barista, and a hundred and twenty two on a burger and french fries in McD. And you quarrel for five bucks from the auto-driver. Five bucks which is one of two hundred and twenty five billionth of McD’s yearly revenue#. Five bucks which could buy rice for the auto-driver’s family today.
Also remember that their being poor is a result of your being rich.
Agreed that its horrible to travel by autorikshaws today. But does our solution lie in hating them, and oppressing them, in denying them? Or does it lie in trying to understand them, empathising with them, and in love? Can we engage them in love? Can we give them a smile each time? Can we talk to them about family and news? Can we see them as humans? Can we see ‘them’ as ‘us’?
Of course, this will not give us an immediate change. Not all auto-drivers will smile back. Not all will be ready to accept you. But some will. Some whose human lies beneath layers of conditioned systemisation, waiting to be uncaged as though a butterfly from a spider’s net. And some will start talking to you about corruption, about God, about being Christian, about Rajnikanth, about the importance of life insurance, about life, classical music, love, Marxism, the rain… Can we remember those some, and keep smiling, so that we might have a change by the time we transcend?
Can we break that fishpond?
Autojam?
–
* – based on the assumption, and probable fact that there are no women auto drivers.
[edit: I was wrong about the women auto drivers... Apparently, there are women auto drivers in Chennai. Thanks wise donkey!]
# – from Yahoo! Finance <http://finance.yahoo.com/q/ks?s=MCD>
- Meter Jam




