You can make a difference.

        As clichéd as it might sound, why is it that we only sit and crib about the system rather than take up the responsibility of changing it? A famous Marathi saying goes thus – “Shivajine shejarchya ghari janm ghyava.” - I only want to reap the benefits of the system, but sorry boss – it is not my job to debug it, let someone else do it. I always thought that I would rather do something, at least give it a try, than to scream my voice hoarse about how everyone is corrupt, how things are unfair, and unjust and how useless is the governing system and so on and so forth. But whenever the time came to prove my mettle, I always backed out giving myself one stupid excuse or the other. But that day I told myself, “Nothing doing! You stay put and teach these guys a lesson.” I’m bad at remembering dates – sometime in May, I suppose, BEST had struck down work without prior notice. As usual I was waiting for my 7:12 a.m. Route No. 243 Jankalyan Nagar – Malad Stn. (W.). After about 10min., one of my co passengers got to know about the strike. “Fine!” I said ,”Let’s go to the main road!” (Some 5-7min. away) and I hoped for a lone bus to pass that way. It was then that the drama began. From Marve Road (main road) bus stop called Malad Fire brigade – share ricks charge Rs.5 per seat to Malad Stn. But today I was stunned to hear an almost victorious cry of “dus rupiya seat!” from all the passing ricks. Forever optimist that I am, despite having given up the hopes of a lone Route No. 272, I continued to hope for a Rs.5 per seat rick to pass. And then I got the second shock, “pandhra rupiya seat, malad stn!” An adrenaline rush full of anger and hatred ran through every vessel in me. “How can ‘these’ people or their ‘leaders’ make tall claims about being hardworking and then dare send such ‘haram ki kamai’ back to their wives, kids and families? Rs.15 per seat!” Multiply that by 4 passengers (even 5 sometimes) they will carry, Rs.60, more than twice of what a normal metered ride to Malad Stn. would cost from my place! With fury ruling my head and control ruling my tongue, I knocked at a door that I thought would never turn me away, Malvani PS, beat no. 4, Jankalyan Ngr. The door was opened by a drowsy, half-drunk constable Kamble, “Never mind!” I said – no matter how much you loathe them or joke about them, you just can’t ignore a pandu. (By no means a blasphemy, pandu being an acceptable short form of the name Pandurang, one of ShriVitthal’s names, and of course an ‘affectionate’ way of referring to our Mumbai havaldars) “Kay zale?”, he rubbed his fiery red eyes. “Saheb, baher tey rickshawale 15 rupaye seat magtahet, kay karu, jara sanga na tyana”, I pleaded. “Mi tari kay karu, aho jaude na!”, he said with an air of indifference. “Aho jaude kase?, kahitari karuch shakto apan”. “ Tumchi kay apeksha ahe? Mi chowky sodun tumhala ricksha pakdun det basu ka?”, I was shocked yet again – this time at an appalling rhetoric by a man of law. Completely disillusioned, I gave him a vicious look and turned around, contemplating reporting all this to Malvani PS, main bldg. some 20min. away by walk. “Too far, and useless, I guess!” I told myself. I went back to Marve Road wanting the fire brigade trucks some two blocks away to rush to me and douse the raging inferno within me. It was 8:20a.m. I had missed my lecture for this sheer nonsense. Quite expectedly, I found many irked and murderous co passengers who would crib, crib and then go on to hop in the Rs.15 per seat ‘regal’ ride. I could feel my brain substance boil into a dal ‘jispe tadke pe tadka lag raha tha!’ Just about then, a striped Qualis emerged on Marve Road. I gathered the remnants of my shattered hope and walked towards the halting police vehicle along with my co passengers. Sub inspector Shinde faced the flak. He kept his composure, which he should have, stepped out and led us towards a group of idle rickshaws nearby a hotel across the road. To my utter disbelief, he began talking to them as if they fed him his daily morsels. “Whatever!”, I said. He coaxed the unwilling rickies into charging by the meter, (an uncompromising demand we had made) and carrying only 3 passengers. Finally two other students joined me and our ‘legal’ ride puttered towards the station. Rs.26 was the fare – we split it. I paid Rs.9 and I don’t regret a single rupee of the Rs.4 I paid over and above Rs. 5, because the Rs.5 share rick was illegal any day and Rs.9 was what I ought to have paid – I did it with happiness and pride! I thanked officer Shinde in my mind and without any prejudice I thanked my rickie as I always do. As I was hanging on to dear life, neither inside nor outside the 8:47 Churchgate fast from Malad, I could see many faces – that rickie demanding Rs.15 per seat, constable Kamble, PSI Shinde, my loser of a co passenger, my other justice loving co passengers, and.... my mother – who taught me to break loose all hell on any kind of injustice and to use ‘saam, daam dand, bhed’ to strike hard at it. If you haven’t yourself drawn a conclusion or learnt a moral by now, then this story is not for log heads like you.