I am cross with myself

Nick is called ‘Sir’ here. I am ‘madam’. Kitty is the Princess. We have a people carrier and a driver. We have had quite a few since we came here.  Some of them spoke good English, some of them none. Some of them wanted to converse, take part in the in car conversation, some of them just drove us to the places we want. The latest one is a very quiet one. His level of English is lower than we think it is; lower than he thinks it is. In English examiner terms= Entry 1.  We communicate. 

We had to show him where the school was. It was not very easy since we did not know where it was ourselves. We call the school ‘Ecole- Short of Ecole Mondiale’. The street map we have is an old one and the school is not marked on it.  With a group effort we found it. Every day he drops Kitty to school then Nick to work. So far so good.  Then he comes to pick me up to take me to places. To the supermarket for example.  ‘Star Bazaar’.  He is late; we think he has stopped for his morning tea somewhere. I climb up to my seat in the car, ‘you are late.’ I say, He turns and smiles at me from his driver seat. That is all the communication we can have.  ‘Star Bazaar’ I declare. He gives me the emptiest, the most glazed, the hollowest look ever. His eyes are as dark and barren as deep meteor craters. I repeat ‘Star Bazaar’. We look at each other. He does not say anything, does not do anything, and leaves all the responsibility of communication to me.  I look back at him. ‘No?, you don’t know where it is?’ It is the only supermarket before the nearest horizon but he does not know it and he is not going to make an effort to understand what I am trying to say. We sit in the car quietly. The AC buzzes in the silence. I call the previous driver to tell him the directions. He accepts ungratefully, we go the Supermarket. He waits for me in the car park. I finish my shopping and give him a buzz he comes and finds me. He carries my bags for me and puts them in the car. I only push the trolley smugly.

Then, he drives me to where ever I ask him to. To the school, the coffee mornings, to Gloria Jeans, to  museums.  To get to anywhere in Mumbai I either have to take a taxi to the place or take a taxi to the nearest train station or ask him to take me here and there. I totally depend on him. I do not know a lot of places, I show him on non-updated map where I want to go he takes me there. The map is more alien to him than me. We look at the pages together. I underline the street on the map he contemplates on it and off we go. He plays his Hindi music on the radio.   We don’t talk to each other. He is as oblivious to the outside world as I am. He does not mind the street urchins, does not find people selling scooters on the motorway funny, He looks always a bit tired, a bit fed up, almost no expression on his face at all. I say my ‘thank you’s and ‘please’s to him, whenever necessary he bows his head, I sometimes get a head wobble. He knows where I go, who I see, how long I stay in those places. He knows my routine more than my husband. I cannot hail a taxi and ask them to take me to ‘to Cafe Costa where Jenny goes please.’  ‘to Ecole please’. I wait for him in the morning to turn up. I wait upstairs for him to arrive and give me a call. Then I will descend and show my face to the world. If I go downstairs to the lobby before him, I will be just waiting around. I don’t know which is worse really.

Today he was supposed to turn up to take me to the dreaded Star Bazaar. He did not. I gave him the benefit of the doubt until 9.40. He was not still here. Then I called him, mobile turned off, then I called Nick, then Nick called him, and the drivers’ manager.  I am so cross with myself that I have to wait for a driver, that I have wasted more than an hour hanging around rather than getting on with my ‘nothingmuchishappeninganyway’ life, cross with him that he just disappeared whatever his excuse is, even more cross that I am stuck in this place depending on other people for transportation.  Whatever you do, wherever you are, if you depend on other people for mobility then you are stuck in your little world. I understand how Saudi women feel.