NOTEBOOK
Taxi journalism is a byword for lazy reporting, for obvious reasons. To rely on taxi drivers who are ferrying you to the distant and unfamiliar spots for commentary, instead of talking to the people that you originally meant to meet is hardly laudable.
This, however, is not an appraisal of taxi journalism but a celebration of taxi drivers, many of whom are bewildered by reporters’ aimless traipsing through the boondocks, for not abandoning their passengers in the wilderness.
A good driver is a valuable companion, especially if you are on a solo trip without a photographer. He (unfortunately I haven’t encountered a woman driver on these adventures) is not only shepherding you through these backbreaking journeys, but also acting as a translator and cheering squad. They help you in unexpected ways.
I recall in Chhattisgarh, while travelling through the picturesque Bastar district on a whim, that I asked the driver to take a gravel path deep in the forest leading to a secluded village. There, I met a cheerful couple who only spoke Gondi. As I sat down with furrowed eyebrows, concentrating hard to make sense of what they were saying, suddenly my driver came in handy. He was from Raipur but he understood a few words here and there, helping me decode the parley.
Needless to say, a local driver would have been far more efficient in such a situation. In an election tour through the Seemanchal region, I was blessed to have a driver from Purnea on my side. He acted as my personal usher, gathering the crowds, announcing my credentials and goading people to talk to me. “Madam dilli se aayi hai (madam has come from Delhi)” was his opening line to those who met on the trail, who felt more comfortable addressing him than me. At one point, seeing me standing for a while, he came carrying the wooden chair from the barber shop. While it can get embarrassing and sometimes their presence can feel overbearing and patronising, such assignment travels would be difficult without these enthusiastic drivers.
More recently, I was in Gujarat to cover the ongoing Assembly elections. My driver for the 1,200 km journey around Rajkot was a 20-year-old boy, who wasn’t interested in dispensing political advice or even talking. But what he lacked in words, he made up for in his sunny outlook. If we were to start the journey at 8 a.m., he would arrive at 7:30 a.m. to pick me up and would uncomplainingly drive for me until the night.
A sullen driver who grumbles every time the car takes a turn on a dirt path can be a problem, especially if you are stuck with them for four to five days. Thankfully, there have been relatively few such tedious encounters.
Why this paean to drivers? The answer is straightforward. We are privileged to closely follow the political mystery of election races and get caught up in navigating the variables of caste equations, political messaging and the voters’ expectations. But the drivers really have none of this excitement to keep them going, despite which they support our journalistic missions with unflagging enthusiasm.
The only thing that I have often found difficult to handle on such long journeys is their car stereo music, which one is forced to endure.
In January this year, there were several stories about the state of media in Hong Kong and censorship. As part of the sweeping crackdown, the Chinese authorities shut down many news outlets forcing unemployment on the journalists. A news portal reported that many of these journalists turned into taxi drivers, travelling full circle. I am fairly confident, that if I am ever forced out of journalism, I would prefer to be a taxi driver, merrily eavesdropping on stories of my passengers. I might not be able to report them but at least it is always a pleasure to hear the stories of my fellow travellers.
sobhanak.nair@thehindu.co.in
