Adieu - You Fared Well
Noopur Vedajna Das*
The yellow, voluminous, dependable ambassadors of Kolkata were the quintessential taxis or cabs as you call them today, when we grew up in the city. They always reminded me of Mario Miranda’s paintings. They had so much character! As the renowned artist weaved stories into each of his paintings—be it a bus load of Goans spilling out of a rickety bus or a heavy bosomed fisherwoman at the fish market selling her wares, or maybe a simple dinner get together in a Portuguese house with much happening in the kitchen and under the table, every yellow taxi had a tale to tell too!
Its journey through the iconic Howrah Bridge, a cantilever marvel supporting multitude of vehicles and pedestrians crossing over between Howrah and Kolkata on either side of the Hooghly river, the lifeline of Kolkata, was always memorable. It ferried travellers from the Howrah station to the heart of the city. Or meandered through the busy lanes of North Kolkata, where a curious neighbour would peep in, without being noticed, through the now nearly extinct khorkhori janlas, louvred windows, to see who had arrived as a yellow ambassador halted in their paras, neighbourhood.
At other times, it rode through the brigade ground, the elitist path, where children gathered every year to practise for the Republic Day parade in the chilling winter mornings, from schools all over the city. Across the ground stands Victoria, the historic memorial that mesmerises the city with its majestic marble structure linking it to its regal past. It gave a drop to revellers into Park Street, the ‘Saheb der’ street, where once upon a time, Usha Uthup regaled the diners at Trincas. It sauntered on the roads of Gariahat, looking out for ladies with heavy shopping bags and children in tow, returning home with a huge collection of tant sarees.
Though the gen next these days and some of the seniors too prefer to use the cool air-conditioned cabs instead of the cheaper standard peeli taxis, in the 80s and 90s, it made for a very ritzy ride to hail one of them. I remember sitting on edge constantly checking the galloping meter reading when stuck in the notorious jams we found on the city roads those days. The yellow taxi ride was not for the bourgeois then!
The memory of the yellow ambassadors crisscrossing the thoroughfares of the lively metro, is etched in the minds of a Calcuttan as a way of life in our beloved city. Just like the crawling trams on the chaotic roads, the Durga Puja fervour, which grips the city every year in the month of Ashwin (mid September to mid October), the adda on politics and football at street corners—the yellow Ambassador too had become an integral part of this joyous city of Kolkata.
Today, as the time draws near to bid a final farewell to the legendary vehicle that we knew so well, it is but with a heavy heart that we do so. Rest in peace peeli taxis!
* Noopur Vedajna Das is an educator, writer, poet and a keen birder, living in Mumbai. Her articles and poems have been published in various anthologies and journals in India and abroad.