Disclaimer: For the purpose of my satisfaction, a taxi does not count as a chauffeured car in this blog.
Disclaimer 2: In case it's not evident, I don't drive.
Well, holiday season is over. No more waking up on my own time. No more demanding breakfast. And no more chauffeur-driven cars.
Because that's literally how I spent my vacation. Surrounded by now-affluent family members, I was lucky enough to have 17 days of complete relaxation, both in Kuwait and Bangalore. And now, I'm back in my house, wondering when to call the landlady to pay the rent, setting an alarm to get to work on time, and trying to put this house back in a a live-able condition.
It sucks to be back.
Then again, there's something that's been nagging me for the past few days, something that just didn't feel right. I've boiled it down to chauffeur-driven cars.
Before I begin my rant, let me put out this disclaimer that I have utmost respect for anyone who lives in Bangalore and survives that horrendous traffic. For those who can afford it, these chauffeured cars are life-savers. Even for me, having family members spread out in all possible corners of the city, these cars were a blessing. I didn't have to think about traffic, directions or potential brain-damage from navigating those roads.
In fact, I didn't have to do anything.
Having gotten used to catching buses, hailing taxis, daringly entering local trains or unashamedly hitching rides with friends, the process of just sitting in that backseat was rather wonderful. And unnerving.
I didn't know what I was supposed to do.
I was comfortable and idle. And that can be a troublesome combo, because as much as I was put off by the idleness, I was easily getting used to the comfort. The comfort of not having to do anything. It's easy to get sucked into that lifestyle. After all, who doesn't want comfort? Why would anyone take public transport when they have this amazing facility available?
Because it can get addictive, and I don't think that's an addiction someone my age should have.
And hassling as it might be, I feel like there's something liberating about discovering the routes of a city and getting around on your own. In fact, I couldn't keep the smile off my face as I sped past the roads of Mumbai in a pre-paid (by me) taxi, breathing in the lovely, garbage-filled air of the city, heading towards a house where I have to pay an exorbitant amount in rent every month out of my salary.
Independence sucks, but it's totally worth it.
Disclaimer 2: In case it's not evident, I don't drive.
Well, holiday season is over. No more waking up on my own time. No more demanding breakfast. And no more chauffeur-driven cars.
Because that's literally how I spent my vacation. Surrounded by now-affluent family members, I was lucky enough to have 17 days of complete relaxation, both in Kuwait and Bangalore. And now, I'm back in my house, wondering when to call the landlady to pay the rent, setting an alarm to get to work on time, and trying to put this house back in a a live-able condition.
It sucks to be back.
Then again, there's something that's been nagging me for the past few days, something that just didn't feel right. I've boiled it down to chauffeur-driven cars.
Before I begin my rant, let me put out this disclaimer that I have utmost respect for anyone who lives in Bangalore and survives that horrendous traffic. For those who can afford it, these chauffeured cars are life-savers. Even for me, having family members spread out in all possible corners of the city, these cars were a blessing. I didn't have to think about traffic, directions or potential brain-damage from navigating those roads.
In fact, I didn't have to do anything.
Having gotten used to catching buses, hailing taxis, daringly entering local trains or unashamedly hitching rides with friends, the process of just sitting in that backseat was rather wonderful. And unnerving.
I didn't know what I was supposed to do.
I was comfortable and idle. And that can be a troublesome combo, because as much as I was put off by the idleness, I was easily getting used to the comfort. The comfort of not having to do anything. It's easy to get sucked into that lifestyle. After all, who doesn't want comfort? Why would anyone take public transport when they have this amazing facility available?
Because it can get addictive, and I don't think that's an addiction someone my age should have.
And hassling as it might be, I feel like there's something liberating about discovering the routes of a city and getting around on your own. In fact, I couldn't keep the smile off my face as I sped past the roads of Mumbai in a pre-paid (by me) taxi, breathing in the lovely, garbage-filled air of the city, heading towards a house where I have to pay an exorbitant amount in rent every month out of my salary.
Independence sucks, but it's totally worth it.
