The Empire Strikes Back

On the wee hours of the morning of the 12^th of June, 2013, I found myself practically jogging after this porter, a wizened old man of about 60 who was carrying 3 of my 5 bags out of the railway station and to the taxi stand. Who would have thought that this man possessed such strength or speed? So there I was, trying to keep up with this old guy who for some reason I suspected wouldn’t hesitate much before selling off my luggage to anyone who offered a 100 bucks per bag. Maybe I was just being paranoid, I don’t know. But I’d just entered this huge, intimidating, new city at 4 am in the morning, about to move in to a new place, separated from my family for the first time in my life. I would be mad not to.

Mumbai, FYI

Just then, like I needed any more complications, a new guy enters the picture – this one was a big, fat, mean taxi-wala guy. Usually you’d expect such men to just be some cool, confident, I-know-you’ll-eventually-be-mine kinda fellow that you should be careful to avoid. Come anywhere close to the swamp, and the crocodile would devour you. And the crocodile also knows that he needn’t do much. He’ll wait you out, and when you finally give in to the thirst, he’ll take you out. You wouldn’t stand a chance. Sound bad enough? This Mr Taxi-wala was worse. He was actually a wolf, impatient, cunning and strong. The wolf scans the area, spots the prey, and charges head on, giving it his all! What chance does a lamb have?

So I got caught in his radar, and before I knew it, he was all over me, using the one super-potent and unfair weapon in his arsenal that could easily finish me –

Hindi.

This guy should’ve been a salesman, he’d make a damn good job of it. Not because of any charm or persuasive power. But by sheer persistence, unmatched aggression, and non-stop jabbering. People will buy just to get away from him I guess. That, combined with the fact that I was looking lost in an alien city whose language I don’t understand meant that, a mere 2 minutes of ‘negotiation’ later, both the porter and I were following him now. Right into the woods, from where there would be no escape. He was faster than even Gandalf, carrying my stuff was, and we both struggled to catch up with him. The wolf had smelt blood, and the lamb had all but lost hope.

"It's over, little one. Give up!"

Until, that is, Bharani arrived.

Much like a knight in shining armor  He too, had his own taxi-wala to deal with, but he, at least, looked to be in control of his steed, and not the other way round. Tall, strong, and fairly accomplished with the local language as he was, meeting this guy – a familiar face from the GDPI day – that day, at that point of time outside the station was, to me, the stuff of fairy tales.

He practically bailed me out, dismissed the redundant taxi-wala, paid off the porters, and agreed for a taxi-share for the long trip ahead. Suddenly the equation had changed in favour of the Chennai Super Kings, and the road ahead for me seemed much more manageable.

That the taxi-wala still managed to have the last laugh is a different matter – the meter readings rose so fast that even the Chennai auto men would have been put to shame – we ended up paying 200 bucks to the porters, close to 900 bucks for the taxi fare alone, plus Bharani lost a 500 Rs note somewhere in the chaos.

But more importantly, we found each other that day, our first respective friends at NITIE. And as it turned out, both of our arranged room-mates were to reach the college only later that evening, and so as to not miss out on the best rooms, we ended up signing for a room together that morning itself.

The rest, as they say, is history!

[That concludes part II of the Star Wars Trilogy. Don't miss the epic finale - "Return of the Jedi"! Cheers!]