Tuesday, February 18, 2020

An Uber experience


We had just consumed a sumptuous lunch at the wedding we attended in Chennai and were eager to get home and rest before the evening reception. Both my sister and I got out our phones, but finally she ended up finding us an Uber ride. We made our elderly mom walk the distance to the gate since traffic was heavy and it was not clear how long the driver would take to pick us up from the driveway. When we got in his car outside the gate, he was full of remorse for having made an elderly woman walk and asked us why we had not insisted he pick us up closer to the Wedding hall. I liked him for his display of care and concern. He dropped us off without incident.

Next morning I could not find my phone. I called it and a man’s voice answered. I hung up confused. After a few moments, I was convinced it had fallen into the wrong hands. I called the number again. This time I enquired, in an accusing tone, how he had ended up with my phone. He immediately expressed relief for having found me. “I did not know how to contact you”, he said. “You were in my Uber and late yesterday afternoon somebody riding in my car found the phone and gave it to me. I had no clue who had dropped it and was hoping you would call before I took it to the Uber “lost and found”!”. Flustered, the words tumbling from his mouth, he continued, not letting me get a word in, “I did not want to give myself or Uber a bad name”. We then talked about how I would get my phone back. The address for his residence was very far as was the Uber “lost and found”. He then offered to drop it off at my mother’s (where he had dropped us the previous day), when he had a ride that brought him in the vicinity of her home. Then came the clincher. I asked him for his name and number. He said he went by Rajasekar although his name was Mohamed Riyaz. I knew instinctively why as an Uber driver he had chosen to go by a Hindu name. That also explained why he was particularly sensitive to not being thought off as dishonest. Over the next couple of days he called a few times to reassure us that my phone was on his mind and that he would try his best to return it. He acted as if it was his fault, when it clearly was mine. When he did come, I was changing and he dropped the phone with my mother and took off in a flash. I clumsily wrapped my saree, rushed out to catch him before he got in his car. I thanked him and pressed a note in his hand. He was clearly surprised and refused initially, but did take it, upon my insistance. I know that he was more grateful that I thought well of him than for the Rs.500 I gave him for his troubles. And it mattered, I think, given the present climate of polarization based on religious differences.

Everywhere I went, I sensed a certain insecurity among Muslim vendors and wherever I could I went all out to patronize their business, over others. Everywhere they made an effort to find common ground in their conversations with me and I responded by making an effort to normalize their experiences as Muslims in India, asking where they said namaz and also enquiring whether they experienced greater discrimination now more than before. None of them openly admitted to it, either because they were fearful, in denial, or did not know me well enough to trust me.

Diverse communities which have cohabited in relative harmony are being pitted against each other for political gain and I could not help feeling a sense of unease over the tensions that are simmering. I fear for the irreparable harm it will continue to cause to the composite but fragile and beautiful tapestry that is India today.

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