An Ode to My Driver

I read The White Tiger over a year before I came to India, and at the time it made absolutely no sense to me.  It's the story of a boy who uses his wit and cunning to rise from poverty into a plum job as a driver for a rich family in Delhi, then from driver to rich businessman (though not without committing a few heinous crimes).  A big deal was made in the book when he was promoted to driver.  At the time, it had seemed like an incongruously big deal.  That, as I said, was before I came to India.

My driver is named JP, and he's sitting in the front seat right now while I merrily type away.  JP is skinny and quiet, and doesn't have as much English as I'm told he's supposed to have, but after a few weeks of shuttling me back and forth from work every day he's beginning to come out of his shell.

The first time he drove me to work, I thought the arrangement was like a typical cab ride.  At the office, he handed me a card with his name and phone number and pointed to the parking spots across the street.  At this stage, everyone and their mother had already handed me their business card, so I thought nothing of it.  It was a big surprise to learn that I was supposed to call him at the end of the workday, and that he would be waiting to take me home -- eight hours after putting me at the front door.  This was no ordinary cab.  I officially had a driver.

Last week, he broke the morning's silence as we were sitting, engine off, in another Noida traffic jam, to say, "Volt.  Tata.  1 lakh rupees."  He pointed to the oddest looking little car I had ever seen and, sure enough, I found out later it would cost only 10,000 rupees -- roughly $2,000.  JP, I should mention, drives his Ford Ikon like a dream (altho he sometimes stalls out on the steep driveway leading up to my office).  In the mornings I often come out to find him polishing the car tip to toe.

Half the time, he knows the drill better than I do.  When I needed to register my visa, some complicated arrangements were necessary to coordinate how I would get to the FRRO, how I would get in touch with my lawyers, how my co-commuter would get into the office.  Two drivers arrived that day, one for me and one for my colleague.  I tried to communicate the instructions I'd been given but sort of floundered a bit until JP just head-wobbled, gestured me into the Ikon, and patiently shuttled me everywhere I needed to go.  Even when I was confused about the finer points, for instance, trying to send him away under the impression his work was done, he would head-wobble his assent and then still be exactly where I needed him when it was time to head to the next office.  I don't question JP anymore.

I need to reread The White Tiger because I find myself thinking a lot of it now, especially on issues like what it takes to even land this gig.  In India, competition is fierce and a job is a job. This gives rise to specialized occupations we would find superfulous back home - for instance, our residency has a mali, or cook, who brings breakfast and tea every morning.  When I tried to be helpful and clear my own plates at the start of my visit, he looked horrified and promptly chased me away.  There's a certain order you don't disrupt.  Though I could do it myself, if I made my own breakfast, how would my cook eat?

Here I'll introduce my favorite thought experiment: "Would This Work in Nebraska?".  It's my experience that most things in India, no, would not work in Nebraska.  Without the sheer numbers and with stronger institutional welfare services, Americans have more personal mobility. With fewer people in the neighborhood, it feels wrong to suck up so much of the talent pool on something like buttering toast.

India doesn't have that luxury.  I am certainly not about to brew my mali out of a job, no matter how quickly I want my tea. So many people have mouths to feed, and even a cab ride can't be taken for granted.  I can naively hope that someday, like in The White Tiger, people will be given to rise.  It's a difficult wait, though.  For today, the best I can do is let JP take the wheel, be kind, and leave a great tip.