Mathan (Madan) oru Kathai...means Madan is a story. In fact
I should say, Mathan has a story and Mathan’s life is also a story. Perhaps,
everyone has a story and the way it is told makes each life interesting. Some people
do not have a story. They die like a story untold. When I sit at the Chennai
Airport, I remember Mathan, who has just dropped me and my family here. I have
written about this pleasant young man with a disarming style. Mathan drives his
family car with a taxi permit. He does it unlike other taxi drivers. He does it
unlike other taxi drivers because he has seen the world. He drives a taxi to
keep himself occupied, to earn a little, but above all to enjoy himself. Mathan
waits for me at the Water Tank bus stop, a fifteen minutes away from
Cholamandalam. We had arranged it in that way.
“When you cross Mahabalipuram, give me a call,” Mathan had
told me when he dropped me and my family at the Thiruvanmayoor bus stop a few
days back. Then we were on our way to Pondicherry. Today we were coming from
there. The most important thing was that when I took out my wallet to pay him,
Mathan had told me to pay him when we came back to Chennai to go back to Delhi.
He had become our friend in that few hours that we had spent together. He
behaved as if he were a younger brother who had come to drop his elder brother
and family at the bus stop.
(Mathan and Me)
Mathan walks towards the bus with a smile and takes the
suitcase from me. He holds my mischievous daughter’s hands and carefully takes
her to the car. Maitreya hauls his bag as if he had taken a vow. He drags with
so much of disinterestedness that I feel the wheels of the bag are up in the
air. Finally we are all in the car. And Mathan asks whether the trip was good.
He says that we could have taken him along. I really feel that we should have
taken along. I promise him that I would be in touch and whoever comes to
Chennai from my side would be contacting Mathan for local hospitality and
conveyance. He is happy but humble. With a smile he accepts the offer. For some
time we listen to the FM Radio songs. All 1980s Tamil songs. We move our heads
together and lip to the lyrics. Outside it is quite hot. But the air
conditioned interior gives us some comfort. I tell him that I remember the
songs and the scenes. He is very happy.
Delhi is cold. Chennai is hot. I look at my dark skin. After
sometime it will become white, I smile to myself. Not all the produce of Fair
and Lovely Company for year would not make me white. But in Chennai you can be
very black or very yellow. If you are really black in complexion you can add to
the hue by adding a little bit of turmeric paste. Then you will look like a
black person seen through yellow cellophane. Myself and Mathan are dark in
complexion. We don’t use fair and lovely. But market surveys say that it is in
Chennai the maximum numberof people use Fair and Lovely as well as Fair and
Handsome. Most of the men here are handsome. Mathan too is handsome. I remember
Rajnikanth turning himself into a white man in Shivaji the Boss. Vivek in the
same film says that in Tamil Nadu you cannot criticize black complexion. Fair
heroines sing that black complexion is the best complexion in the world. Delhi’s
cold would not turn me white. But it would definitely make me pale.
(Mrinal and me at Chennai Airport)
I tell him how we would change into layers of clothes when
we reach Delhi. Mathan informs me that Delhi is very cold. The other day he was
watching a One Day cricket match in television. At two o clock in the afternoon
it looked like night. And most of the people were wearing jackets and even gloves,
he tells me. I could feel the Delhi cold in Chennai’s weather.
Mathan is 1981 born. I do not ask him his year of birth. But
I do ask him for his email id. He tells me. And there is mention of the year in
his email id. I smile at him. Your birth year, I quiz him. Yes, he tells me. I
have saved myself from the embarrassment of asking his age. Mathan belongs to a
fisherman’s family. His father goes fishing even now. He has two brothers; an
elder and a younger one. They are all educated. Mathan is a diploma holder in
Mechanics. He worked three years in Singapore in a ship company as a mechanic.
He earned well and came back. I came back to get married, he tells me with a
cute smile in his eyes. I got married and now I have four years old daughter,
he says. After marriage and daughter’s arrival Mathan did not go back to
Singapore.
(at Chennai Airport)
What do you do Mathan when you are not driving the car? I
ask him. He smiles. I have a shrimp farm, he says. I am surprised because I
know someone who has done shrimp farming and spent a few years in Thailand. He
had travelled along Pondicherry to survey the shrimp farms with his friend. He
had told me about the shrimp farming. This needed a lot of land and lot of
water, and a lot of patience. Yes, it needs patience and it is a six months job
in a year, Mathan explains. He has four acres of farm. He spends a few hours
every day at farm, feeding and cleaning. By noon I am free, Mathan tells me.
And I drive car in the afternoons mostly. I like to go with people once in a
while. It is a time pass as well as a means to some earning.
Is Mathan happy about his life? I do not dare to ask this
question because I feel that he is really happy about his life. I had noticed
him listening to cricket commentary on FM Radio on the first day. He likes to listen
to music and especially that music of 1980s which was dominated by the folk
melodies created by Ilayaraja. Thrity two years old Mathan has a taste similar
to mine when it comes to Tamil film music. Mathan is happy because he is happy
to have his family, his car, his shrimp business, his love for music and
cricket. He dresses well and behaves well, and drives his car carefully. He
could have charged me a bomb as he came to drop, pick me up and drop again at
the airport. He does not do it. He smiles. I pay him and he takes it without a
word of complaint and with a lot of smile. First time I feel like hugging a
person. But I don’t do because I don’t hug people generally.
Human beings are such animals who could tell stories. Mathan
did not reveal so much about his life. But I have gathered something his life.
And my recounting of it is real for me and through that I realize the presence
of a friend and a brother. I remember him saying, Sir, my shrimps have never
failed me. Once it happened. When it happens it is great loss. But when it is a
great harvest, it is all profit, he is full of optimism. Such optimistic people
are rare in tourism industry. Everyone tries to make a quick buck here. Mathan
stands out because he is here to know people and learn from them. His way of
communion is being friendly and serving with a smile. Such people are rare in
today’s world. Mathan is a rare example. And he shines like a gem when I know
that after a few hours I am going to face a different tribe of taxi drivers in
Delhi.
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