On our way back from dinner last night, Chrys and I were discussing where to go today. I suggest the Comedy Store. Chrys says, 'Anyone can do stand-up comedy. Only Kulbhushan Kharbanda can do...' at this point I mimic KK and say, 'Sit down!'. The taxi driver turns around and laughs at this joke and for reasons beyond my comprehension, Chrys is offended.
Later at home, he says, almost in an accusing tone, that taxi drivers try to strike up a conversation only when I am with him. Else they just leave him alone. I wonder why being the source of some amusement to a taxi-driver should offend one so much. I think Chrys cannot reconcile himself to the fact that a set of people who listen to Agam Nigam's songs and watch bhojpuri movies could find the same jokes funny as him.

Well, I find the whole thing quite amusing.

Jittery ride

Yesterday Chrys and I got into a cab at Kemps Corner. The driver was freaky to say the least. He kept fidgeting and adjusting his hair every ten seconds. To top it he was driving at top speed and weaving through the traffic. Chrys asked him to slow down, but that just made him accelerate some more. The two of us hung on to dear life. That was when I noticed a hairy creepy crawly on that guy's collar. This was a huge yellow and orange coloured caterpillar. It was really hairy too. It would keep popping in and out of this guy's collar and seemed to be in no hurry to get anywhere. I don't know if that was causing the freaky behaviour in the guy. I was reminded of that character in "The Jitterbug Perfume", a man who was always surrounded by bees who formed a sort of halo over his head. But I think this cab driver was crazier. He might have been high on some drug and we didn't want to freak him out more by pointing out the caterpillar. It was probably harmless. We stopped at a signal and there were some kids there with a begging bowl... this driver screamed at them "Hatt!" even though they were nowhere near his vehicle. Then a poor guy was trying to cross the road and this driver screamed some obscenities at him and that fellow almost fainted.

Finally when we were getting off, I took a look at the caterpillar... it was lifting it's head and looking straight at me as if to say, don't worry... I'll be fine... this guy doesn't bother me!

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The dialogue mix from Quick Gun Murugan is an absolute riot.

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Why do some newly married women dress up like street walkers? ... brightly coloured bra straps peeping out of spaghetti tops, loud make up, big chunky jewellery... you already got your guy, give us poor souls a break!

Ooooo what a headache!

Chrys and I have noticed that Taxi drivers (even auto drivers) have a peculiar taste in music. The record companies seem to understand that and release albums that you will hear played only in taxis and rickshaws. Himesh Reshammiya also has admitted that his biggest fans are rickshaw drivers.

If you are a regular traveller in rickshaws in Kalyan, chances are that you have already damaged your eardrums irrevocably. They choose to play numbers that have extremely loud clanging and pounding sounds. These are not angry songs, these are songs that you will appreciate when you are drunk on cheap country liquor. Unfortunately I don't have a taste for those... neither the liquor nor the music.

Whereas in Thane, your eardrums probably still have a chance of recovery. However you will be left with a song worm in your brain and you will spend the rest of the day singing ... "Oooo huzooor... (something, something..) surrooooooor".

If you take a taxi around Breach Candy or Mumbai Central, you will be subjected to either bhojpuri numbers or ghazals sung by unknown people. The taxi drivers are a philosophical lot with an opinion on everything under the sun (another post on that). Maybe that is why they are fond of songs about loneliness and god knows what in the lyrics. Once I was stuck in a horrible jam at Mumbai Central and was forced to listen to some really corny ghazals. This guy sounded like a cross between Jagjit Singh and Sonu Nigam... i.e if both are moaning away sadly. The lyrics too were pathetic. They went something like this...

"Tujh mein aur yaad mein farq hai itna~~~ ... yaad har waqt aati hai, tu to bewaqt aati hai"

The difference between you and memories is that memories come all the time whereas you come at odd times

Then I remembered that Sonu Nigam's dad had recently decided to turn singer (according to the gossipy trash I read everyday with the newspaper). So when I reached my destination, I asked the cab driver if this record was of Agam Nigam (yeah! that is Sonu's father's name). The fellow's face lit up like a groom on the way to his wedding. He was both surprised and greatly pleased that I recognised the singer(shot in the dark really!). Then he also started listing all the new "good ghazal albums" that have come in the market (I don't recollect any now). He lamented the lack of good singers and labelled all the new age music as "dhoom dhadaka" ... all noise no music.

Methinks the taxi drivers and rickshaw drivers must have a face-off on this topic.