With the advancements that have dawned on our 21st Century lives - technological and otherwise - it's safe to say our lifestyles have altered significantly, with an exponential rise in our comfort levels. And amidst all this social and technological elevation, rather inconspicuously, our cab rides have evolved.
Waiting by the cemented mushy red pavements with watchful eyes, trying to spot a passenger-less yellow taxi amidst the sea of Kolkata traffic, is a sport you’re all so familiar with, aren’t you? Obviously, I’m talking about the time when Uber and Ola were yet to don the streets of our majestic city, and when yellow taxis were the king of the jungle (a modern-day city is, after all, a civilised jungle).
It was a time when you didn’t need to stare at the cell phone screen to get yourself a cab. Funnily enough, you didn’t need the internet as well. Your cab-booking process, back in the day, comprised three stages, with three different body parts running the show — the eyes, the hand, and the mouth.
All you needed was a pair of working eyes to spot a cab, stretchable limbs to draw the driver’s attention (even a single limb would do), and an audible voice to negotiate the terms of the ride. In other words, if you’re physically able, you’re in the game (I’m not saying the physically challenged can’t book a cab — I’m sure they can — but the process has got to be different)! The first step was perhaps the most difficult of all — spotting a bright yellow movable object (remember, it has to be passenger-less) might seem easy on paper, but doing it in the streets of Kolkata is a different thing altogether. But the good news is, once you complete the first step, the second is fairly simpler.
But hang on, it gets tougher again.
The third step is where your mouth enters the scene, and plays the most important role in the entire process — the negotiation. If your voice is audible enough to reach the driver’s ears (which is the case for most people), and semantic barriers aside (trust me, communication is tiring when you don’t know the language), all you had to do is get yourself a ‘deal done’ with the driver — and voila — the wheels would set to roll! But no, it isn’t as smooth as I’ve made it look here, because the third step also includes a clause, which is called — the rejection. If your ride terms hit a snag, or the driver doesn’t fancy you (sometimes, they judge you!), your entire cab-booking process stalls and crumbles. Here’s a fun-fact — the ‘no refusal’ thing is a myth. Failure on the brink of success hurts, but at least, rejections were on face and not subtle through texts (we’ve all been there, haven’t we?), and that made moving on (I mean onto the next cab) so much easier!
So that was the cab-booking phase.
Once the wheels set to roll, the next phase begins — the ride. This particular phase hasn’t altered much today, but riding a yellow taxi is a different ball game compared to an Uber ride. First of all, forget the aesthetics (if you’ve been inside a yellow taxi, you know what I’m talking about). As soon as you place your bum on the concrete seat (yes, concrete is the right term), its 1489 CC engine would shake things up (quite literally), and the wobble would be a part of your entire ride, except when the driver shuts the engine down at crossings to save fuel (yes, fuel is pretty expensive these days). When combined with the concrete seat, it doesn’t sound much comforting, does it? But hang one, it doesn’t end here. If the air was conditioned to a soothing temperature, perhaps it’d had made up for the perilous conditions on offer — but alas — there isn’t seem to be much luck. Wobbling your way through the stop-start Kolkata traffic, whilst sitting on a piece of concrete, in blistering 40°C unmerciful heat does not paint a very gleeful picture — but that was what our cab rides were all about, many moons ago.
And, we never (read: sometimes) complained.
Now, coming back to days of the Ola-Uber Kingdom, scratch off everything I’ve mentioned in the paragraphs above. Every nook and corner where the yellow taxis fell short has been taken care of, by the modern day Tata Indigos. The three stage cab-booking phase? Gone. You just need three things and you’re set — a cell phone (it has to be smart enough), an internet connection (it has to be stable enough), and a fair bit of literacy (you need to be educated enough). There are no on-face rejections anymore. They reject you subtly through texts and calls, and sometimes, by not saying anything at all (silence definitely kills relationships). When the wheels set rolling, the wobble is no more. The temperature? It resembles that of the Scottish highlands instead of the deserts of Saudi Arabia (read: yellow taxis). Yes, the air is conditioned. And to top it all off, the concrete-like seats have been replaced with softer and smoother ones. The transition is heavenly.
The world has indeed moved on. We have indeed moved on.
I don’t know about you, but I know I have for sure, because I still fixate my eyes on the cell phone screen to book a cab, even when the driver of the yellow taxi requests me to hop in (oh the turntables!). But no matter how much you move on, there is always that one feeling you just simply cannot leave behind. No, you don’t have to go back to the past, for they’re right there in your present — you just need to use your eyes, hands, and mouth.
Because the yellow taxis still roam the streets.
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