After a lively evening out at Tango, I booked a cab to head back home, content but tired. It had been a long day of music, laughter, and mingling—and I was ready to sink into quiet. Little did I know, my cab ride was about to become the most meaningful part of my evening.
The driver—a warm, chatty Sardarji, a rare find in Bangalore—greeted me with an easy smile. Somewhere along the ride, he asked what I did for a living.
“I was a teacher,” I said.
That one word seemed to shift something in him. He paused, then opened up about his teenage son. His voice held both concern and confusion—he wasn’t sure how to connect with the boy anymore. There were clashes, silences, missed cues. All very normal things, but to a father, they can feel like warning signs.
I didn’t offer a lecture. I listened. Then I spoke gently—about building faith, not just in his son, but in the bond they shared.
“Teenagers are not trying to break away from you—they’re trying to find themselves. Just keep the door open. Trust them. Let them know you’re on their side.”
He went quiet for a moment. Then he smiled.
“You said exactly what I needed to hear.”
By the time we reached Springfields, something had shifted. The car stopped, but he didn’t want the conversation to end. I paid him online.
I opened the car door. The security guards stood alert, waiting to escort me in. I gestured to them—“Just a moment”—while he continued talking. His voice had softened, his eyes lit with something between hope and longing.
“Let me drop you to your building,” he offered. “At least till the entrance.”
I declined politely. “It’s the first building. I’ll walk.”
There was no need for more.
We both knew the ride had already taken us further than either of us expected.
What If I Had Been Distracted?
Sometimes I wonder—what if I had simply scrolled through my phone, pretending not to hear his voice?
What if I’d cut him short with polite nods, or answered in vague one-liners just to get home faster?
He would’ve driven away with the same worries.
I would’ve arrived home with the same bags.
But something small and human would’ve been lost.
We often underestimate how much our presence matters to someone we don’t even know. Sometimes, just listening—really listening—is enough to change the direction of someone’s day. Maybe even their next conversation with their child.
A Ride to Remember
In a city of hurried drop-offs and silent rides, this one stood apart.
It reminded me that even brief encounters can carry meaning.
That sometimes, the teacher in me shows up not in a classroom, but in the backseat of a cab.
And that when someone trusts you with a piece of their heart, you owe it to them to be still and receive it.
Have you ever had a stranger trust you with something unexpectedly personal? Did you listen? Did you lean in?
You never know who’s just looking for a little kindness on the road.
Note: This is part of The Cab Travel Chronicles – Why I Stopped Driving My Own Car: The Unexpected Gift of the Backseat
9 Responses
Sometimes even I come across chatty drivers in autos or cabs but most of tge discussions are general about politics or religion. Rarely some drivers open up about their family mainly children. It is mostly information about what they are doing, not yet encountered about any advice or queries.
You mentioned you rarely encounter advice-seeking. This is actually the norm. At times, they show respect towards my age and accept advice. I think they might be worried and trying to figure out things when sharing their thoughts and hence accept advice.
I often talk to driver’s about how long are their driving hours and when do they have their meals. Most of them have to miss their lunch or have no time for the evening snacks. I always tell them to keep banana and other seasonal fruits like guava, orange etc and eat it whenever needed. Most of them appreciate this advice
This is such a gentle, human way of leaning in. Sometimes trust shows up not as a confession, but as a conversation—and your concern turns it into care. Thank you for listening, noticing, and responding with kindness.
Every person needs an ear ans each one has a story to share. You have written the incident in a very subtle way but with a powerful message. I’m sure it left an impact on the driver as well as the reader.
Thank you for reading so thoughtfully. I truly believe every story matters, and I’m grateful that this one resonated with you—both in its quietness and its message. 🤩
Meeting of two people – one with a query, another with a solution, is so wonderful. Your valuable words facilitated a change in perception for him.
All that he needed.
“But something small and human would’ve been lost” – so precious 🙂
Thank you for reading so deeply. I loved how you captured it—as a meeting of a query and a solution. And yes, that “something small and human” is often the most precious part. I’m grateful it spoke to you.