Monday, September 20, 2010

The Late Night Cab

Hurriedly, she locked her boards and cables in her draw and walked out of the door wrapping her shawl around. As she signed at the security gates she glanced at her watch. 11:30 PM. The December night was chilly. She walked towards her cab clutching her shawl closer to her body.

The driver was not seen anywhere. She opened the rear door and waited inside. Her mobile in her hand lit up followed by a beep.

1 new message.

"What time are you coming home?".
Her thumbs quickly texted back a reply "Soon..".

The light from the mobile lit up her young face so gently that she looked angelic, even after clocking 14 hours in there!

Just then a man in white-and-white uniform walked down the parking and got into the Indica. With a quick gesture he asked where she had to be dropped to. "Koramangala, BDA complex. Bere yaaru ilva?", she asked, forming a sentence from her minimal Kannada vocabulary. He replied with a negative.

As the car zoomed past sleepy apartments, empty roads and unattended traffic signals, she pulled down the glasses of her window and kept herself awake. Her eyes could no longer stay awake but she forced them open as they drooped.

She kept an eye on the road. She kept an eye on the driver. Is he on the right road? Is he drunk? Am I safe here, in this car, with this driver? Is he... will he... What if.. Should I.. questions flew about inside her head.

She stared closely at the driver through the rear view. Unshaven. Unruly mop of hair. Pan chewed mouth. All of a sudden she felt so insecure that she wanted to lock herself within the comforts of her home. Far away, inside her head, voices screamed that she was, after all, a woman!

Oh yeah, a salwar-clad demure Indian woman? An Indian woman on whom you can cast your lecherous glance on? Sorry Sir! No more your weakling! The hands that make you rotis can not only type on the keyboard, but wield a sword too, for all you care!

She slipped her fingers into her hand-bag searching for her solace.

Yes, it was there, her pepper spray and her black-belt.

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To you, Pratibha Shrikanth Murthy. May your soul get the justice it deserves, soon.

6 comments:

Dreamer said...

That was a moving story. These incidents slip out of public memory so fast. 4+ years is way too long a wait for justice.

Dinesh Balachandran said...

Good one!

Vimal Gasper said...

Great... Not many people would be remembering this... Even I had to open the link to understand the depth of your words...

:-Dee said...

I am moved. May Pratibha get the justice she deserves!

sandeep said...

luvly post!

Soorya said...

@Dreamer Yeah, justice delayed is justice denied.

@Dinesh Thanks :)

@Gasper Thanks.. yeah, I remember this so well coz this was the time I had just come to BLR for my job.

@Dee Yes, the case has finally seen the light of the day now.

@sandeep Thanks :)

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