I dedicate this post to all those, who are surprised instantly by that word on my blog, and well… those who are not.
I could have called it just-an-other-BAD-day-of-my-diary, if not for my success in playing The Happy Birthday song on my guitar that very evening, of that very eventful day.(**Cheers!**)
The day began with my secretly enjoying the servant-maid getting badly cursed by the GHMC* cleaners, for her reckless and proud disposal of dirt and scrap, onto the roads. And she boldly reciprocated, with words I never heard before.
I personally dislike my servant maid’s hasty habits, and my-work-ends-here attitude. To add, this sequence of events that laminated over the commotion left me thinking, far beyond the point of ‘disposal of garbage’.
I pushed and wrecked myself into a bus, crowded beyond safety limits to get to college, for the reason that there wouldn’t be another, coming for the next 40 minutes. And I wasn’t prepared to forego attendance, to win a comfortable journey to college. No one does! I was carrying three records and a really heavy text-book in what looked like a mobile library book-collecting bag. That was my underprivileged college bag. I find a place a little beside the driver’s seat to dispose the heaviness temporarily, taking care not to bother the driver, neither looting someone of a good place to stand.
I was only trying to breathe deep, when I hear, “Take that off. Put it anywhere but not here.” The driver. I began to say, “But why, what s the problem…?” And zoom comes the answer. “I don’t know why. I just say, don’t put it here, or I’ll throw that out.” Poor me, I carry those 20 kilos over my poor shoulder, being in no mood for argument, against a fool. College was 50 minutes away.
About a quarter later, I manage to grab a seat. By some idiot’s mistake, it happens that I sit over a fellow passenger’s dupatta. And now, she wanted to get up. Had I been in her place, my fellow could have afforded to expect an ‘excuse me…’ or ‘could you move, so that I make sure my dupatta still belongs to me…’ yes, politely.
But, what I get is a “Hello? …”. I mean that kind of a “Hello…?” that is used with, “Hello…? What the hell do you F!#%%^ @$&7%^, think you are doing, sitting right on my priceless, irreplaceable baandhni dupatta? (That I bought for 60 bucks, from a market sale, of course!)”. I guess the lady did not have enough time to finish her sentence. Lucky me!
Heights of patience and politeness. My patience of course; politeness… err, I regret not having asked junior Jaya Lalitha her name!
This episode could have potentially damaged the rest of my day, but for the Wodehouse novel, that sneaked into my बेक-pack, in spite of those apocalyptic 20 kilos!
Now, a hectic day was ahead. I was prepared. It all went on well, till I got into the 7-seater-share-auto-with-at least 11 passengers. A lady, (just about double as fat as I am), asks a girl, (just about half as thin as I am), to give her a ‘little’ space to sit. The girl out of morality obeys. The second moment the auto starts, and the third, the girl is out of the auto. With a little common-sense, anybody would understand the scene; the girl got brutally and politely kicked out of the auto. And the lady responsible says, “Ah! Aise kaise gir gaye beta? Pakadke baithnaa!” (“Oh! How did you fall down that way? Should hold tight.”)
I helped myself out of frustration, and managed to reach home safely. But, the whole lot of these incidents put me to thinking, why people get impolite. It could be one of the following reasons.
They think it makes their word stronger. Like, in the case of that bus driver.
They think it is cool. Yeah, I think one of my cousins fell in love with a girl, who could very impolitely insult. He’ll probably know what, when he is 180 to the insult.
They think it is easier to see others hurt, than keeping oneself uncomfortable.
There could be many more reasons, I guess. Though, I don’t seem to be able to write them now. However, I think, there are easier ways to make your word heard, looking/being cool, and keeping comfortable than looting others of their mental peace.
Not that, I would cry for days if someone is impolite. But sure as hell, I would try and reciprocate, better than their capability, in most instances. But, that would only make my day worse. People don’t make the impacts. We react, and make impacts on ourselves. And reaction is human. (I am Human. **Sigh**)
I don’t hope to mend these people. I don’t really care. Then, how do I take care of issue, which might become a problem to me.
That’s easy! I would never forget carrying a Wodehouse, or a Kushwant Singh along!
I can no longer afford not to!
*GHMC – Greater Hyderabad Municipal Corporation. Hyderabad is greater now!