When free-wheeling, guiding go hand in hand
We spent a week in Malaysia last month. Since the travel was well connected, frequent change in buses, coaches and cars involved change of drivers too. This proved an added feature of holidaying, in so far as garnering information about the places visited was concerned. Though every bit of information is available on the internet these days, yet an account from the perspective of a local adds spice to the experience.
“Did you read the instructions carefully, sir?” said Mustafa, who was driving us from Kuala Lumpur airport to the hotel. I had taken a cursory look at the sheet but was more interested in looking out of the window. I nodded a yes to him, through the rearview mirror. Having sipped water from the bottle we were carrying, I bit into an apple. Mustafa didn’t like it and asked me not to eat the apple in a near reprimand. “Sir, you didn’t read the instructions carefully. In Singapore, they don’t allow even drinking water in a cab!” he said. Sheepishly, I put the apple back in the bag but was impressed by the driver’s courage in letting his visitors know the law of his land.
The next morning, Hare Krishna picked us up for our city tour. He was a gem. After we broke the ice, he began taking pictures for us at all landmarks. He even suggested angles from where the Twin Towers would fit in the camera frame. He told us about the local regime and wasn’t happy with the corruption in public departments. He counted the demerits of a single-party system. I asked him if the dominant Muslim community and others lived peacefully. He hummed a near grunt, disapproving my silly question and said, “We are all Malaysians, sir.” He took me to their national emblem fresco at the Independence Square, explaining what the stars, moon, sentinels and colours symbolised.
Next to meet us at China Town was a 70-year-old driver, who introduced himself as Edward. He talked without any inhibition. He had stayed in Delhi for some time and had been to Agra. He repeated a joke Bill Clinton cracked while addressing Parliament in Delhi. Edward said, “The world is divided into two halves: One that has seen the Taj and the other that hasn’t.” He pronounced the Monument of Love as “Tujj-Ma-haal.”
Laxman drove us to and from Sunway Lagoon, a theme park. He was a fifth-generation Indian. With pride, he informed us about his roots in Madras and hastened to add Tamil Nadu. He signalled to a picture that had MG Ramachandran on it. MGR formed one entity among the entire pantheon he had in his car. He boasted, “MGR is a friend too.” Talking about his father, he said, “After him, we will lose all connections with India.” I could read the lament in his eyes.
In Penang, Jeeshan, a plump Chinese youngster of 19 years, doubled up as our guide too. He seemed to know everything about his country. He was a seventh generation member. He asked which part of India we came from. “The North,” I said. Immediately, he greeted us with a “Namaste”. “What if I had said from the South,” I asked him. Pat came the Tamil greeting, “Vanakam!” When Jeeshan told us his name, he said, “Like you have Kishan in India, I am Jeeshan in Malaysia!” Whoever said drivers are a rough and crazy lot!
THOUGH EVERY BIT OF INFORMATION IS AVAILABLE ON THE INTERNET THESE DAYS, YET AN ACCOUNT FROM THE PERSPECTIVE OF A LOCAL ADDS SPICE TO THE EXPERIENCE