The other day, I actually got up in a good mood. The cause was the rain pattering down my window. The once familiar sound, which has now become an uncommon experience, lifted my spirits. To most Indians, rain is a welcome respite after the searing summer.
The thought of rain-sodden pavements and roads, which I would have to traverse to get to work didn’t take away from my joy. Eventually, when I stepped out, armed with an umbrella, I had second thoughts about walking down to the Metro station. The weather was cool and ideal for this form of exercise, but as soon as my shoe sank in a puddle, I changed my mind. Much as I would have loved to have walked in the rain, I didn’t relish the thought of sodden footwear. There’s nothing worse than walking in damp shoes that squeak with each step you take once the water has gone in. Wait a minute. There is something worse. The hem of your pants or sari getting wet and then becoming a dead weight as it slaps your ankle each time you move.
So, I stood in the rain, sheltering under my brolly as I waited for a taxi. Suddenly, there didn’t seem to be any on the same road where these usually pass by at the rate of one a minute. As I was about to give up hope and prepare to squelch my way to the Metro station, a cab drew up. Now, juggling an umbrella while trying to enter a vehicle, while conscious of cars backing up behind, isn’t exactly an ideal situation. As I slid inside with a half-open umbrella, the rainwater dripped on to the seat before I had time to toss it on the floor. Before I could react to the drops of water, the cabbie started a diatribe on how I was spoiling the car seat and ensuring he would get no more passengers as they would object to sitting on a wet seat. I was so shocked by this outburst that I just stared at him uncomprehendingly.
Recovering from the verbal attack, I somehow wasn’t up to arguing or reacting aggressively to his boorish behaviour. In fact, my mood couldn’t be dampened even by an irate driver. Seeing that he was being given free rein, he continued in the same vein for a while. I was told that he had made the biggest mistake by stopping for me. He should have just driven past. Then, to substantiate his argument, he showed me a message on his mobile from the Roads and Transport Authority cautioning drivers to avoid ‘water ponds’ or any risk to their vehicles.
Soon, he tired of his tirade and began to show signs of mellowing. That’s when the thought came to me that rain had a strange effect on people. It made some irritable while others thrived on it.
Baffled by the change in his mood, I began to reciprocate. He began telling me about a passenger complaining about him and that it was the only complaint against him in his four years of service. I was informed that of course it wasn’t his fault and that he was justified in refusing to cede to the demands of a passenger who kept changing his mind about his destination, especially as it was also nearing prayer time.
That’s when I made a comeback. I said I, too, could make a complaint about his bitter verbal attack. I casually tossed in nuggets of information about working for a newspaper and how I had contacts or knew people who had contacts.
The sea change in his behaviour was as abrupt as the clearing of the skies. But I soon put him out of his misery as I casually mentioned that I would never dream of putting anyone in trouble.
The rain certainly improved my mood and tempered my reactions.
