"Am I missing something?"
Chinmoy muttered, the question a restless echo in his mind. It was the third time in an hour, a persistent hum beneath the rising panic. His 9:30 AM flight to Mumbai loomed, the clock ticking relentlessly towards 7:30. In Kolkata, summoning a ride at the eleventh hour was akin to chasing a mirage. Two ride-hailing apps had already flashed the dreaded “jabona” (won’t go), leaving him stranded.
Then, a beacon of hope: one of Kolkata’s iconic yellow ambassador taxis, its paint faded like a well-loved photograph, crawled into view.
“Dada! Airport jaabe?” (Brother, will you go to the airport?), Chinmoy blurted, practically diving into the back before the driver could even respond.
A sly grin spread across the driver’s face. “Tinso ponchas taka lagbe.” (350 rupees).
Chinmoy recoiled. “What?! The airport is barely four kilometers! The meter fare is 80-85 rupees. This is daylight robbery! You should just go and hold up a bank! I’ll give you 100, not a paisa more.” He made to get out.
“Meter cholchhe na,” the driver countered, his voice softening slightly. “Duesho taka din, aar kono kotha noy. Deal!” (The meter’s not working. Give me 200, and that’s my final offer. Deal!)
Chinmoy glanced at his watch. 7:50. Arguing over 100 rupees wasn’t worth missing his flight.
“Fine,” he sighed, sinking back into the worn seat.
“200 it is. But turn on the meter anyway. I want to see the actual fare.”
The driver gave him a skeptical look, but nodded and flicked the meter on.
Chinmoy’s internal monologue resumed. What is it? What am I forgetting? He rummaged through his backpack and carry-on, checking for his passport, wallet, boarding pass. Everything seemed to be there.
Midway through the journey, the driver pointed to the meter. “Dekhoon dada, apni bolchhilen airport 4 km door. Meter ki bolchhe dekhoon… pray 5 km chole eschhi aar ekhono 2 km baaki. Ae taxi ta amar shob diner byapar, ami tomake mithhe kotha keno bolbo?” (Sir, you said the airport was 4 km. Look at the meter – we’ve already gone almost 5, and there are still 2 to go. I drive this route every day. Why would I lie?)
Chinmoy conceded, “Okay, my mistake. Don’t worry, I’ll pay you what I promised.”
They arrived at the airport at 8:45. Perfect timing. The meter read 165 rupees, but Chinmoy handed over 200, thanked the driver, and hurried towards Gate A7.
“Ek minute dada! Ekhane ekhane!” Chinmoy heard the driver calling after him. Now what? Is he going to ask for more after all?
“Dada, apni headphone gari te chhere diechhen. Taratari korle erokom i hobe… ekhon jaan, noyto flight miss hoe jaabe.” (Sir, you left your headphones in the car. When you rush like this, you forget things. Go now, or you’ll miss your flight.)
Chinmoy plugged in the earphones and a beautiful track was on…”Stay gone”; a masterpiece by Jimmy Wayne…
He smiled as now he realised what was missing... :)
