The good strike

Let us pause to consider for a second that those taxis that are never available when we want them, won't go where we need them to, drive all day and cannot come up with change, and whose meters, if used to calibrate the stock exchange would leave us China, and in whose back seats are surely the manifestations of a whole new generation of evolutionary bacteria that will usher in a post apocalyptic world, an aftermath probably caused by anarchy unleashed by murderous commuters, are choosing not to ply. Really, we hadn't noticed.

If we did, it was only because we zipped to work in 20 minutes through orderly traffic, on roads that are uncharacteristically turning back to grey from their sea of red paan stains and we actually have some jingle-jangle of cash left in our pockets after a hard day's work. Even as the sun parted through the rainless clouds and the absence of blaring sound-wave-distorting stereos above the ceaseless honking began, in small measure, we began to get our hearing back. Our asthmas, spurred by the vacuum of pollutants in the air, much like an atmospheric pressure drop that surely ushers in worse weather, or like a tsunami's pull back, kicked in harder, only to be told that no no, it is not a trick question and the air today is lighter all for free.

And save your pity sir for the everyday commuter who does not own his own car. To you your parking fees and your scratch guards. The BEST buses were full and profitable on all routes again. The trains were steady and the cyclists not wearing fluorescent greens to ward off the evil eye, or swervers. And we have it on good authority there are some who discovered the use of their feet again much in the fashion of Gandhi walking from Khar to high court, a possibility of distance made implausible by time and taxis, thus, scientists inform us, warding off the human race's evolutionary detour into waddling.

Do whatever you can to keep the moustachioed taxi men on strike. In fact, courtesy exasperated commuters everywhere who are willing to bake the damn thing, let them eat cake.