1. This morning as I was walking down my street, I found a policeman haggling with our regular Razaai-wala. As I passed by their side, I heard the policeman say, “Rs.100, final price” I looked up, surprised as that was not even close to the rates of his Razaai. The Razaai-wala jerked up his tela(cart) and said, “no, no. Sir, Yeh toh bahuth hi jyada kum hai” (This is very less).
The policeman got irked – he clearly couldn’t make out what the Razaai-wala was saying, and he didn’t want to let go of the solid opportunity he had laid his hands on, to get some razaai cheap, and some, maybe for free.
But before he could reply, my friend yanked me into an auto rickshaw she had hailed, as I bit my retort (“earn your living, mister. Don’t beg for it”) on behalf of the Razaai-wala, to myself.
2. I then got into a local train, “Public” transport. Which the normal public use, to commute from one place to another. Public as in, all the members of the country. In the compartment, which was fairly full, barring a seat or two, I found a lady sitting with her 5-6 year old girl sleeping across an entire 3 seater. When people asked her to help the girl take less space while she slept so they could sit, she didn’t budge, and instead, pushed her legs to one side of the seater and asked them to make do.
When you travel in public transport which is meant for everyone, it is only good that you adjust. The means of commute is the government’s, meant for everyone to use, and each one has equal rights on it. If you prefer comfort and your own airs, choose your private vehicle where you’ll be the master and ensure all your whims and fancies are taken care of. As simple as that.