My Driving Teacher

Hans...! Hans...! I will never forget him for so many reasons...

He was my second driving teacher!
When I first started on with my driving lessons with a German old man teacher, he so pissed me off with his constant scoldings and apparent  racism that I had to change him only after two classes with him. He was succeeded by Hans, the man who kept me intrigued for the next 4 months if I had been wise changing my first teacher at all...!

Hans was a different make altogether. Frustrated, sarcastic, irascible, rigid like a stone wall, cold as an ice berg, distant, aloof, unyielding, domineering, arrogant and as if all these qualities were still not enough to make a beast of a human being, I felt he hated me for not being German. He had only two good qualities. He was good at teaching driving and he could speak English like a native.

From the start, he made no secret that he did not like me and will never never never like me. To have such a teacher can be a nightmare. If I didn't love driving so much I would probably become a wreck from suffering from his behavior. Time and again, indeed at every class, I endeavored hard to reconcile him, to melt him but he never yielded. I would talk, he would snap me shut. I would smile- he would sneer. I would laugh- he would turn red with irritation. I would make a mistake- he would smile. I would admit I didn't know - he would smile satisfactorily. I would be able to do something- he would be visibly disappointed at having lost a chance to rebuke me. And my every class was like this; a battlefield of emotions!

His attitude interfered heavily with practical organisational stuff. I lived a long way away from the driving school and needed 2 hrs to travel back and forth. My work time was also inflexible and during the weeks I was alone because S used to be in Munich the whole week. That meant I could get my classes only on Saturdays. But if I learnt only once a week, I would never be able to finish it in time- we were planning to move to Munich in 4 months. How could I finish driving lessons in  just 12 classes?
I requested several times if he could pick up and drop me (as normally driving teachers do and which is clearly offered on the driving school website. ) NO! Okay, if I can't do it more than once a week, then let it be at least double class? NO! I struggled hard to find appointments. He cancelled them frequently without so much as informing me before hand. I took 4 days leave from work to be able to get more classes- 'Sorry, my schedule is full. I can't give you any appointment.' was his cold answer. S tried hard to get one day 'work from home'  to be able to avail at least one more class a week for me. Once, he had to rescheduled his flight to reach Bonn in time so I could attend my class. Guess what? Hans cancelled the class without even telling me leaving me high and dry and a loss of money that went into rescheduling the flight. Once H heard him scold me and saw me requesting him in vain for appointment and silently crying when he refused. Poor child! He started crying and said he hated Hans because he talked to me so badly. That night little H had a nightmare during sleep and he woke up crying in bed mumbling something about feeling sad and disturbed...

And yet, and yet I tried to be friendly with him and yet he rebuffed me every time.

My time was drawing nearer and nearer. I could now drive with more confidence but still needed a lot of practice. And the bigger question was not only how to pass the test in time but how to bear this beast of a man longer if I didn't pass. The only thing that kept me going was my new found love and passion: Car driving!!! Driving felt like flying, like being in tremendous control. For me the steering wheel was so sexy, I could stay at it all my life. Everything about the car and car driving was sexy to me, even the seat belt and the side mirrors and the rear view mirror and the gear and hand break. I loved the way the car would roll on the road like sliding on butter, the way it would reverse under my steering movements, the way I took the curves of the roads, or meandered through the city lanes, the way it sped like a loyal monster on high speed autobahns, even the way it would start or stop like a faithful never erring servant...
My driving class appeared too short and I was always sorry when it came to an end. I cherished every moment I spent behind the wheel. I would slide in euphoric state when the class was over and at night would dream of driving or started having trouble falling asleep at all due to driving euphoria in my head. Driving was intoxicating me the way wine does.

I had fallen in love with driving and nothing in this world, not even Hans, could kill it.

And today was the practical test!
I had requested him to let me have a final driving lesson just before the test and shockingly he agreed. He had a fair idea what and where my driving test was going to be. In the middle of the driving class  he took me to the Test office parking place and pointed out at to my examiner at a distance.
'Do you see that man? He is your examiner. He has just finished one exam and is now going in for a  short break after which he will take another exam. Now keep the car ready in ignition and wait.'
'What for?' I asked.
'We are going to follow him.'
'But won't he discover he is being followed? Both the cars are from the same driving school and he apparently knows you..'
'He won't - he will be looking at the student not at the cars coming behind him.'

I waited in position with a thrill bubbling in my head like boiling tea in a kettle. True to Hans' words, the examiner came out in five minutes, got into the brightly labeled driving school car and in two minutes the car started to move.
'Follow the car; just don't get too close. From the first traffic signal he will turn right.'

I lined up behind the car. Another black van had managed to come in between and Hans wasn't happy about it. 'Hurry up or you will the lose him. Remember, at this crossing, the green signal is of a very short duration.' He growled impatiently.

Luckily, the black van went in another direction and so I could stay behind the examiner's car appropriately.
'From the third traffic signal he will turn right.'
They did. So did we.
'He will get into the round about and go on straight.'
He did. My eyes were nearly falling out of my head. Hans had already taken me twice on the very same route today!
But he wasn't done yet. 'He is now getting into this lane from where he will turn right and we will turn left.'
'Won't we follow him anymore?' I asked dissappointedly.
'No. He has turned into a dead end from where the student has to return. We don't want to bump into them head on so now we have to lose them and go our own way.'

This 'follow and chase' even though so short, was thrilling like one gets to see in typical Bollywood bank robbery movies. More than the chase, I found, Hans' detective commentary and prediction extremely incredulous and exciting. We drove for a couple more minutes then returned back to the Test Office parking place before the examiner's return, of course.

'Prepare for the test in advance. Keep your bag and coat in the boot, switch off your mobile, take out your passport and be ready.'
He went inside to get coffee for himself while I paced up and down in silence. Then he started smoking but his eagle eyes were relentlessly fixed on the road. He spotted the car even before it entered the parking.
'He is coming. He will now go for a short break.'
The car parked and the examiner emerged. A thin normal man! In comparision with Hans any normal person appears like the eighth wonder on earth.
The examiner came towards us, greeted Hans cheerfully, smiled at me kindly and politely requested us to wait for a few minutes till he came back. Hans agreed graciously. Oh Yes, he can be polite and gracious and conversational and smiles with all other people just never with me.
'Hans, you are unbelievable!' I exclaimed.
'The longer he stays on his break the shorter will be your test session.'

Finally the examiner came. He checked my passport, and other papers, a small formality of signing and stuff and then he gently ordered me to start driving, giving me instructions from behind. Hans was discreetly giving me signal hints at every step and turn like a secret conspirator. He quietly kept signaling me when I should indicate, switch on or switch off my indicator, turn left or right, increase speed or decrease or stop or go or even when I should be cautious of the red signal or a crossing or turning. It wasn't at all needed but it was very morale boosting and helpful! We turned into the very same directions and took the very same routes that Hans' had predicted and we had already driven on twice today. We got into the same dead end and we even did emergency break at exactly the same place where Hans had made me do it today. We drove a little more, then entered the Autobahn, then took the first exit out and drove back to the Test Office. The test lasted only about 20-25 minutes instead of expected 45 minutes and the examiner announced that I had passed! However, I am still not allowed to drive until I get my license and I am not supposed to get it until some necessary changes in the document has been made. The examiner kindly congratulated me and wished lots of luck and success, then took his leave from us and went away. Hans on the other hand, didn't feel any need to do the same.

Puffing heavily at his cigarette he gruffly ordered me to get out of the driving seat.
'Get out of the driver's seat. Your test is over. Now I will drive.'
I got into the passenger seat with Hans at the steering wheel. The first time so! It looked so terribly odd.
'You have my steering wheel but I have your brakes now.' I exclaimed playfully. 'Stay away from them.' He barked. He forbade me to position my seat higher or closer and so I sank into the low seat as if I were reclining on a beach chair instead of being in the car. Forget the road, I couldn't even see the bonnet of the car due to such a low, laid back seating. Sitting beside him in the ill positioned passenger seat was no pleasure. The joy of having passed the test quickly started drowning in the despair of my still not being able to drive for at least I don't know how many more days or even weeks.
We were mostly quiet the whole drive back. He brought the car to the driving school parking lot, parked the car and without saying a single word or even a look in my direction, opened his door and went out.
I stared at him in disbelief. His coldness hurt me beyond expression. He doesn't feel any need or compulsions of general politeness to congratulate me or express pleasure at having passed my test. He has no desire to say good bye to me or wish me luck for future although he knows this is our last time and we will  never see other again.
He went to the other car, got it ready for his next class, then came back again to retrieve something from this car.

I took out the small box of Gummi Bears that I had brought for him as a thank you and goodbye gift.
'Hans, I brought this for you.' Said I in a small voice. I kept the gift bag on the passenger seat. He didn't even look at me and didn't say anything. And I walked away...never to see him again!

This man, this beast of a man...he taught me to drive, he taught me to fly. He opened to me a world of new passion yet he pained me and wounded me and hurt me so much that I cannot describe. And at this moment I do not know if I should thank him for what he taught me or to hate him for how he hurt me. And then I think my pain will heal with time but the joy of driving will always remain with me and so I should thank him. We don't thank people only to let them know that we are thanking them. We thank them because we genuinely feel grateful to them and I am grateful to him for teaching me driving....

Why democracy isn't working in middle east

The West worked hard to bring democracy to middle east. Yet the result appears to be too clear to be doubtful. The middle east was probably better off with its dictators. And the reason for such a result is also not so very difficult to perceive.

The middle eastern world is a different world. It should not be judged on the same scale as the rest or the west of the world. The majority of  the middle easterners are those who, since their early childhood have been brought up only to believe what their religion tells them, or their religious teachers tell them or what their leaders tells them or what their male heads in the family tells them. In a world where everything that one has to do comes from an external source often times not very reliable, it prepares a very very conducive environment for dictatorships to germinate and grow.

People there have ultimately become seasoned at obeying others and indeed obeying unconditionally without questions and complaints (another good factor for dictatorships to be successful) They never got the opportunity to develop their ability to decide, ability to choose or the ability to use their reason and logic. They only saw what they were told to see, they only heard what they were told to hear, they only spoke what they had been told to speak, they even felt and thought what they had been told to. As such only dictatorship was bound to be successful because it told them what to do. In the absence of that external source, they crumble like walls of sand.

I may be wrong in my thinking but I celebrate the fact that I can think at all...

How Forgiveness can change your Life...!

I believed in the virtue of forgiveness when I had no opportunity to forgive anyone. And it requires some mettle on one's part to forgive someone who has caused you great grief and pain. In moments when your heart writhes with agony, the thought of forgiveness seems like a joke, even injustice. Yet, forgiveness is precisely for this moment. The greater the pain, the greater test of strength in forgiving and, believe me, greater your personal happiness. 

Forgiveness is not an obligation on the forgiven: it is an obligation you do to yourself. 

About three years ago, I worked in a somewhat miserable place where I ran into a new employee and we quickly became pals. We enjoyed talking to each other, I enjoyed her humor and company and I owe some of my happiest moments in that miserable place to her. I shall name her C. 

Before long, less than 1 and a half months to be exact, we ran into trouble.  Humorous, cheerful and witty as C was, she was cut throat ambitious, jealous and mean. Realizing me as a threat to her personal ambition, in less than a month she mobbed me horribly. She turned all my colleagues and the management against me, told white lies to everyone and almost made it a  question of life and death till I felt I couldn't handle it anymore. The management had already turned deaf and dumb to me. I wrote my resignation letter at mid night ( I couldn't mail it because every mail I sent to the management were immediately redirected to her and I didn't want her to be the first one to know) and then the next day went extra early to talk one last time to the management. No good. I was fired on the spot. I retorted in no less heated tones:

'No, you can't fire me. I am resigning. This is my resignation letter.' 

With the last shreds of my self respect still left intact, I hurled the resignation letter into the face of my boss, derived a miniscule satisfaction on seeing the shock on her face, I walked out to live in a wounded bleeding agonizing pain of being insulted, fired and mobbed for, what seemed like an eternity....! 

What I went through after this, is more difficult to describe. Becoming suddenly jobless was the least part of my problem. I sank into a deep chasm of depression. I couldn't get away from the memories of the last three months. These occurrences would play and replay and replay in my mind like a stuck CD. Every time I slept, even if the sleep was only half an hour long, I dreamt of C. I would get nightmares every single night of her harming me or coming to harm me. Every time I happened to pass from in front of that workplace ( it was on main road) I would drown in painful thoughts and sometime had to struggle to refrain from breaking out sobbing in public. And indeed I would often, far too often, weep when alone.  

The pain was unbearable.!

Two months after my resignation/firing, my boss emailed me asking me if I would like to work again under different circumstances.  

We met.  

She was honestly penitent, apologized, realized she had been at mistake and wanted me back. She offered me a double salary and a more elevated status as before. And she promised she would keep C away from me. I was about to join but then I got an offer from another place and joined there.

  

A new place, a new environment, a whole set of new kind of work with a whole new bunch of colleagues... My nightmares vanished as suddenly as they had appeared. I got immersed in my work which helped in forgetting C. However, every now and then, my over cautious behavior towards my colleagues, an aversion to forming closer contacts and a dread of letting myself work to my full potential for fear of making enemies like C, showed how deeply scarred I was from inside.  I was living like a virtual snail hiding in its shell scared of even a feather touch! And there were times when I would relapse in moody silence. I would be thinking about C...

It will take some time to heal. I told myself.

Fate doesn't work that way though. Does it?

Nearly a year later, who should join the same institution? Yes. None other than C!. On her first day, she just sailed into the place like a breeze of ocean air, touring all the work areas, encountered me, spread an ear to ear beaming smile on her face and exclaiming 'Hiiiii, how nice to see you!' she clasped me to her heart like we were long lost sisters! 

My troubled dreams, the replay of the old drama and the depression returned in full force. My wounds turned green again. 

Bumping into C twenty times everyday was, plainly speaking, a pain in my ass or a knife in my wound. When she and I were alone I wouldn't even look at her. In front of others I tried to appear normal but avoided her as best as I could, while she always behaved like we were two good friends. There were times when she would come and innocently ask me something and my tongue would writhe in my mouth to ask her, Do you know that you murdered me?  

My colleagues were noticing. And wondering. Only my closest colleague knew what was afoot. 

I didn't know what to do. I could talk to the management here and tell them. I could seek transfer or she could be given another work area instead of sitting right on top of me. But somehow these measures didn't make sense to me. I hated to build up negative opinion in my colleagues and the management's mind against someone who is new and hasn't had a chance to prove herself. Whatever had happened, it should be in the past. I have to move forward. I must give her another chance and see for myself if I can accept this as a challenge. And then, I must not forget that she is alone and has to feed and clothe herself. Any action against her could leave her jobless. I mustn't do anything to endanger her position. For once, at least, I have to forgive her. 

On sympathetic advise of my closest colleague, I took a counselling session with a psychologist.  

'What do you want to do regarding C?' He asked. 

'I do not want to harm her or be the cause of any harm to her. I want to be professional and mature. I want to forgive her and move forward. I want to give her another chance to be okay with me instead of believing that she is going to harm me again. But I do not want her to take my forgiveness for granted and think me a fool. I am a positive person and I always think good about everything. She, on the other hand makes me negative. I want to free myself from her negative influence.'

  

At the end of 1 hr of discussion, he appreciated my way of thinking but concluded that I was being foolish and wasting my sympathies. 

'This person is an actor. She acts all the time. She will harm you again. To protect yourself, tell all this to the management so they know the whole history. And write a daily dairy with dates and time and every word of what passes between you and her. This would help you in legal matters should she mob you again.'

 It was a truly valuable session! How merely talking can heal! I will forever be indebted to my colleague for inviting me to it. When I walked out of the room I was a new person. My heart was lighter, my vision clearer, my determination to not to be dragged in the negativity of a negative situation, firmer than ever. 

That night as I walked back home I felt I had wings.

There is very little to the story now but very substantial. About two months later, C started doing the same kind of things again: talking ill about me to other colleagues to defame me, build up negative atmosphere for me and misguide people. She didn't succeed. My colleagues confronted her and told her seriously, she couldn't do things like this here. My management is fully informed. They are very professional and they appreciate my professionalism.

Since sometime now, all negative feelings in my heart, the fear, the apprehension, the pain that was associated with C is gone. Gone for ever. Never to come back again. I have forgiven her fully and wholeheartedly and it doesn't matter to me if she knows it or not. I realize C was an unpaid debt from my past life. She was my bad karma from my past life. I had to settle this debt right here and right now. The moment I settled it, I have been as light as a white, fluffy, summer cloud that sails on the oceans of air. I realize how everything that was related to C was dragging me down like a million ton weight tied to my feet. It was making me a person I basically am not. By forgiving her unconditionally I cut the rope that tied me to the weight and now I am free. My heart is free. My mind is free. My soul is free. And I realize how by forgiving her I have done such a great favor to myself. 

Test it. Forgiveness is healing in itself.  

Today I learnt she is in her first month of pregnancy. I wish her all the best.