A Day in the Life of a Taxi Driver | Memoir by Sanvi,12, Kolkata

I turned the wheel around with inordinate force. The pressure of earning daily wages for my family had dawned upon me anew as I looked at the road ahead of me. My palms were sweating and aching from driving my taxi without a break. I pressed the horn while still surveying the crowded and chaotic street. 

The roads were rough and had not been maintained for a long time. It was uncomfortable driving over the uneven parts. My focus shifted to the two boys loitering around in the middle of the lane. I sighed enviously, for I did not have similar freedom to wander around like carefree penguins. People like me had to earn a living with hard work and perseverance. I had to reach the villa on time to pick up my passengers. After dropping them off, my quest to reach home would begin. 

The dilapidated buildings were slightly taller than the peepal trees, so it felt as if they were looking down at me. The paint peeled off in patches in several places and the advertisements on the walls were dirty and torn. The air smelled of smoke and it burnt my lungs. The scorching heat burned my grimy face and formed beads of sweat. 

Today, I probably should not have set out to work but I was compelled to do so. Our world is such that the rich and the poor both live in extremes. Either people are too rich or too poor. We can only wish that it were not like that. I really have resigned myself to destiny, and have accepted the inevitable for someone like me.