What can drive one better than attitude?

V I E W P O I N T
What can drive one better than attitude?
By Sudha Murty
The Times of India

It is better to cover our feet than go about trying to clean the world. There I was stranded at an auto stand one day, waiting to hitch a ride to the airport.

Suddenly, a car screeched to a halt. The tinted glass rolled down and I identified Saroja, my friend, who gestured me to get inside. Wary of disturbing her, I said, “I am on my way to the airport. It’s too far.’’ “Get in first. This is no parking area,’’ Saroja replied, explaining that her driver would put me there as he drove her to her hospital.

Surprised at spotting me at an auto stand, Saroja enquired about my car. “Both drivers are on leave, so I had to take an auto,’’ I replied. “Oh, you could have taken a taxi,’’ she exclaimed. Autos for her were the most dangerous form of transport. “For that matter, road travel is more dangerous in comparison to air travel,’’ I reasoned. She went on to complain about late flight schedules and her general distaste for travelling.

Saroja should have been a contented woman. Her husband owns a p ro f i t abl e hospital, her sons are married and well settled and she has doting grandchildren. Yet, she complained endlessly. “With the intense competition in Bangalore, it’s very difficult to carry on private practice. We have often contemplated selling off the hospital and depositing the money in a bank,’’ she said. Patients at the hospital were next in line. “They think the latest medicines and surgeries can conquer even death. If one doesn’t respond to treatment, the relatives complain that we are squeezing money.’’

Hoping to interrupt Saroja, I asked of Milind, her son, a software engineer in the US. The floodgates opened. “Oh, retrenchment is a looming threat. He is always under the shadow of unemployment.’’ She bemoaned the dearth of domestic hands in America and of baby-sitters who demanded exorbitant amounts. “My grandchildren know not a word of Kannada,’’ was another grievance.

At Dairy Circle, the car was hemmed in by an ocean of vehicles. “Traffic bottlenecks have become the order of the day — be it on Bannerghatta Road, at Dairy Circle, Silk Board or Domlur,’’ Saroja started off again. My attempts to brighten the mood by enumerating the many advantages of life in metros failed to help. “We have an international airport, engineering colleges, good weather, booming IT...,’’ I explained futilely.

“There you are! Software people like you are grabbing every engineering graduate. It’s so difficult to get a good hand these days as everyone prefers a good paymaster. Gaurav was complaining the other day.’’ Gaurav is Saroja’s second son, a software engineer settled in Bangalore. “Gaurav and his wife have time for nothing. My son is perpetually busy while my daughterin-law Anita is absorbed in her own world of parties, friends and hi-fashion. The kids feel so lost. I tell you these youngsters are too ambitious!’’

Enquiries as to her mother-in-law, predictably, evoked disparaging responses. “She has grown too old and stubborn. Even at this age, she bosses over me like a traditional ‘saas’,’’ she said. Despondent, I asked her to define happiness. Giving me a strange look, Saroja laughed, probably, at my ignorance.

“A life with less tension! Even after marrying off our sons, there should be open communication. There ought not to be a generation gap.’’ The list was endless — multilaned roads, understanding patients et al. I had reached my destination, Airport Road. Before bidding her adieu, I said, “Saroja, you are dreaming of Utopia. Our happiness depends on our attitude and not on that of the world!’’

Hoping to enlighten her by quoting Buddha, I said: “Contemplate this: It is better to cover our feet than clean the world around us.’’ The car stopped. I alighted, thanked her for the lift and waved goodbye. While Saroja was still looking at me, the car sped away.

(The writer is chairperson of Infosys Foundation.)