Aasif, the miracle driver from Delhi
It was Wednesday, May. I was waiting the sun to set a little bit more towards the evening to get out. My hotel was in Paharganj, a region of Delhi, and though my destination Connaught Place, which is the heart of the city, was not so far away, auto drivers was not so eager to struggle with the traffic due to the hot weather.
It was my first arrival at India and I wasn’t able to get used to many things yet. And the leading one was of course their hot cuisine. Furthermore, I caught cold and had a poor appetite though I felt the hunger. Just for that, my friend and Tour guide, Kriti told his sister at home to prepare a meal for me that night. I got out at around 06.00 pm and began to struggle with Auto drivers waiting outside the hotel to join the dinner invitation that I received from the most noble and beautiful family in Delhi. I asked every driver but they all turned me down or demanded stiff prices to get rid of me.
I was desperate, late and money did not matter anymore. I had to be at Rajiv Chowk Metro Station, Gate 7 at 07.00 pm as soon as possible. Afterwards this gate has become a doorway to my dreams that I used in every meeting of mine to explore new places. After about half an hour of struggling, I got tired out. Things looked really hard for me this time because the auto drivers who first gave me stiff prices that I did not accept had left too. Everyone I asked just grimaced or made some gestures meaning that I should keep on moving. The sun had almost completely descended but unfortunately that period of the year was the hottest times in Delhi. The scorching heat was still above me which made it really hard for me to stand on my feet…
I sat under the shade of a building. I lit my cigarette and was looking around with some anger and desperation. And the worst part of it was that as I walked away from the hotel too much I lost the Wi-Fi connection. I was not able to reach Kriti. On one hand I was upset that I could not go there in time and on the other hand I was thinking about the concern that she would feel for me.
Several minutes later someone called out to me in English and said “Sir”.
I looked around and saw that he was speaking to me from afar, among the other auto drivers. I stood up and went towards him. He asked me where I wanted to go. When I said Connaught Place, he made a gesture indicating that I should go on and sit at the backseat. While all the other drivers bargained, this man just signed to me get in. I asked myself if I should do that. But I neither had the enough stregth and time. So I got in the car without giving it too much thought. We finally entered into that dusty, dense traffic of Delhi where the horns never ceases to sound.
After a while of quiteness, the driver asked me where I came from and where I was headed. I told him that I came from Turkey and talked about my dream of India and interesting moments I had here. When he heard my story, he was becoming more and more interested. He started to talk about himself. His name was Aaasif and he had lost his parents at 14 years old. When he was 15, he came here from Gujarat to work. After working at a tire dealer , he bought himself a vehicle and became a auto driver. He was earning his living as a auto driver for about last 10 years. He had two daugters at the ages of 16 and 22. He was fully supporting their education and the pride that he had in his eyes when he was talking about this was illuminating all around him. He was complaning about the inequality of men and women which was still present in most of the country. His girls would not be victims of it. They were going to build their life and maintain it with their own strength.
Though surrounded by the ignorance around here the man sitting in front of me was not that illiterate child who dropped out of school but a philosopher. The importance of the metro station that I first died to reach as soon as possible was no longer the issue. While our deep conversation continued, we were stuck in the traffic for a while.
I forgot to take some water out of rush. At that moment a water seller girl around her 10’s approached us. After he said something in Hindi, Aasif caressed her head and whispered something to her ear. Girl was smiling with her twinkly face. He bought two bottles of water from her and passed one to me. I was quite surprised. In a world where money is always the top priority, this man treated me to a bottle of water with the money that he earned under these harsh conditions .
While I was guzzling my water, the traffic gradually opened up. We continued our conversation where we left off. I asked him what he told the child. He softly turned his head backwards and just smiled. There was neither a comment nor an answer. I thought that there would be no meaning to try my chance once more. 5 minutes later we were at the Rajiv Chowk stop and the legendary gate 7 was standing before me. I got out of the vehicle slowly and took the money out of my pocket. Just then Aasif held my other hand and said “no money”. I did not quite get it for a moment and thought that money was not enough. I took out 50 rupee more for the greatness of traveling with such a beautiful man in such a hot and crowded traffic was invaluable. I had to make him happy somehow. This time, with a more serious attitude, he told me “no money” again and shook my hand tightly. When I asked him about why he did not take the money, he turned to me and asked me if I had some spare time. I was torn between Kriti who was waiting for me for such a long time and a life story which I was so curious about. He told me to sit beside him and I got in the vehicle again.
And then he started to talk: “I saw you at Paharganj, waiting in a rather broken state. I watched you for a while and I remembered my childhood. Years ago when I first set foot in Delhi at the age of 15, I had no job and I was half hungry. I’ve given out my hopes for a big city and every door that I knocked at were shut in my face. Even my relatives here did not let me stay with them more than a month and threw me in the streets. And during a heat of may just like this one, I was slapped in the face and got thrown out from a restaurant that I had applied to work as a dishwasher. I was not like this by then. I was a very slim boy. And the restaurant owner even humiliated me by telling me ‘Are you kidding me? You cannot even carry a plate let alone washing them,’. At that moment the burden of desperation and orphanhood brought me down under a tree. Just as the tears were falling out of my eyes and I was immersed in some deep thoughts, someone called out to me. When I raised my head and took a look an old man in his 60’s whose face was sparkling with a heavenly light was gesturing me to come. His name was Irfan. With all the nervousness because of what I’d been through, I approached him. He asked me if I was hungry. I nodded timidly. “
“He put his hands on my shoulder and took me to the restaurant which had just thrown me out. He filled my stomach as if he was taking a revenge from there. He ordered almost all of the expensive foods. That big man who humiliated me shortly before was now serving us, bowing and scraping as he knew the money at hand. “
“After he footed the bill, he asked me: ‘Would you like to work, son?’. I still shyly nodded my head with all that diffidence. He took me to his store where he sold auto tires and gave me a room. I worked with him for about 6 years. He took care of me as his own child, married me. I bought myself a taxi with the money that I collected by working there.”
“As to you,” he said and turned to me. “I cant take your money, but I would want your prayers for me. Because when I saw you there, broken, it reminded me of my state under a tree years ago. I can’t stand to see someone, a God’s guest, who came to our country from far away lands to look desperate. Whenever I see someone like you, desperate, hopeless it always reminds of myself years ago. I just can’t stand it. Maybe, a little while later, a taxi would come and take you to where you wanted go , costing you some money. But, you would remember that moment when you waited under the shade for all your life when you were asked by someone about India. My ancestors did not spill their blood for days and stories like this,” and he put his hands on my shoulder.
“Now, about what I said to that little girl, I asked her if she saw you sitting at the backseat. When she looked at you, I told her that I was going to buy those bottles of waters for you but I had a small favour to ask from her.I said, pray with your beautiful heart. Pray, so that he would meet an Uncle Irfan whenever his hopes are extinguished. Prayers of a sinner like me would not be answered but if a taintless heart like yours ever prays willingly, ways for him and people like him would be cleared and we would have the chance to wake up to a new, happy world where you would not have to sell waters but go to school.”
“Yes,” he said, “I’m old now. But you’re still young, energetic. Bending head, kneeling down would not befit you. Do not give up, no matter what. Just keep on. New hopes bloom wherever one dies out. Now give me your hand again not to give money this time but to shake this poor fellow’s hand,”. He concluded his words but he had taken me to a completely different world. I was being a subject to interesting life stories in every step I took and could not attach a meaning to it.
I sat beside the metro’s exit door, numbered 7 and I started to think by looking around meaninglessly. I was thinking about Uncle Irfan whom I did not know. It was like the whole country had become a movie set and they were filming the life again just for me. Each frame was like a life lesson. And yes, despite all the troubles, sufferings, just as we’re about to give it all up we always run into a Aasif,showing us the true worth of living, doing favours for people, fighting and the importance of sacrificing yourself for a life purpose. At that point I recalled the famous Turkish poet Nazım Hikmet’s beautiful poem:
The most beautiful sea hasn’t been crossed yet.
The most beautiful child hasn’t grown up yet.
The most beautiful days we haven’t seen yet.
And the most beautiful words I wanted to tell you
I haven’t said yet.
Yes, we generally find it easy to think about the worst. But as the Nazım said, the best things regarding to this world haven’t been said yet…
While thinking about all these, Kriti suddenly appeared before me. She frowned and said: “Where are you? I’ve been looking for you for hours,”. I told what had happened in short. You had to see her astonishment when she learnt that the driver did not take my money.
I wondered that if I was to tell her the whole story, would she believe me or think of me a crazy. I wondered if these things only happened to me, not to other people. While deeply thinking about all that, we had already made tracks for their home where Kriti and her Sister Harshil prepared a wonderful meal for me…
Since that day, I haven’t been able to forget all that happened and Aasif.
Unfortunately I was so lost in present while all these were happening so I forgot to take a photo. If you ever go to Connaught Place one day, ask the Auto drivers about this great man. Aasif was a tall, bodied man who was from Ahmedabad, around his late 40’s, with some white hair. I hope that you would meet this god-sent angel one day during a night of may. I met and now, as he said, whenever I say I’ve given it all up, I think about Rajiv Chowk, the entrance gate 7 and Aasif..
Don’t forget, the dreams are only good when they’re shared with great people like Aasif.
Author: Harun Resit Aydin
‘’Thank you to India and its great people. Stay in Love, stay with India, stay blessed. Hope to come soon again..’’
