The BBC making me cry… again

I never normally cry watching documentaries about cabbies. But this evening I ended up watching ‘Toughest Place to be a Taxi Driver’ from the BBC. A number of people had commented on Facebook about it and my curiosity got the better of me…

http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b01r9yw6/Toughest_Place_to_be_a…_Series_4_Taxi_Driver/

It’s the story of Mason, a London cabbie, who goes to Mumbai to turn his hand to driving a taxi in one of the world’s most chaotic cities. He is given a few lessons by his host Pradeep on negotiating the traffic, the people and the cows in Mumbai and then he is left to go it alone on the road. Mason’s brilliant cockney chat, sharp wit and genuine soft-heartedness added to the warmth of Pradeep and his neighbours was very touching to watch. The stories of migrants: a taxi driver who’s family live in north of India and a mum and her young children who live under a flyover, are part of the experience and the drain on Mason’s emotions during his visit. Twice in the documentary Mason simply questions what basics people need to be able to ‘be human’ in the midst of the struggle for food, shelter and livelihood in the city.

The Mumbaikars filmed are beautiful, colourful people, their clothes and smiles a contrast to the concrete backdrop of the city. And of course as with almost any encounter we have when we become travellers (and not passive residents) we are changed by the experience of meeting people different from us and experiencing a little bit of what they experience. Mason went home and you could see that he was deeply changed by his time with Pradeep, his community and fellow taxi-drivers in Mumbai. And for me watching as the audience, from my warm living room, my children sleeping safely upstairs and enough food, shelter and opportunity that I’ll ever be able to appreciate… I am changed. I am reminded again of how much there is for me to be thankful for, I am reminded how blessed I am, I am reminded and perhaps quietly convicted that I really don’t need to go on Rightmove again, I really don’t need to be dreaming of a bigger house, even if my reasons are good and noble. I am reminded how lucky I was to be dealt the hand that I was, not the hand of the mum and her four children who go to sleep tonight not knowing what the future will hold for them. I think of them as I go to sleep tonight, and I think about what I can do from this great distance, to be a friend, a neighbour and sister to them.