Soon he stopped outside a local police station. One minuta please, he said. Then I realised he was an off-duty cop!

Illustration/Uday Mohite

The festival director of one of the top film festivals in the world was sharing his journey. He said he started out as a volunteer, and if I remember right, he said they offered him the post of a chauffeur. He refused and said he wanted to do something in programming. He joined programming, and years later, is head of one of the top festivals. I recall this, not only to underline how great careers can start innocuously with a simple bit of volunteering, but also to honour the post he turned down—chauffeurs!

Now, I’ve been a train girl all my life. My family has never owned a car—or driver. In an unforgiving city like Mumbai, where I spent one hour each way by train, so two hours down the drain daily when I was in mainstream journalism—a car commute would mean about three-four hours daily, and I simply didn’t have the patience for a car. Most of my friends in Europe don’t have cars either—they take the train or cycle to work. Always be nice to help, chauffeurs, waiters, other staff—that goes without saying.

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I discovered in the course of my festival journeys, especially with the Berlin film festival, that very often, the “chauffeur” who picks up or drops you at the airport, is often a distinguished person, who is volunteering for the festival, and willing to be a driver for 10 days, simply to be associated with film, filmmakers, the film world, or maybe lucky to glimpse a star. I always find it interesting to chat with them.

Once I had a senior philosophy professor pick me up and I was deadly embarrassed—he said, on the contrary, he was very happy to meet all kinds of interesting people from around the world, and was hoping to catch some movies as well.

Another time, it was a gardener who was driving me to my festival hotel. I was fascinated. We had a lovely conversation about what the French, Germans and British like in gardening and landscaping. A third time, an aspiring filmmaker drove me and tried to get me to see his short films on his phone by the time we reached the hotel (fat chance, after an eight-hour flight!)

But the most charming of all, was the tubby, kind chauffeur who dropped me from the Busan festival to the airport in Korea. He struggled to make conversation with bits and bobs of English. Indo, Indo, he exclaimed, excited that I was an Indian. Yes, Indo, I said. O-ho-ho, he said, mighty pleased. At the traffic light, he opened all his dashboard drawers and scrambled to find something to give me as a gift. He found some sweets and a chewing gum and offered them to me with a deep bow that we normally reserve for gods. I was very touched. Khamsa hamnida, thank you, I said, and he was delighted with my one word of Korean. Then he asked me something in a torrent of Korean I didn’t follow. Soon he stopped outside a local police station. One minuta please, he said. Then I realised he was an off-duty cop!

He returned with a fistful of boiled sweets, a little doll, a key chain—whatever he could find in the police station in a panic—because he couldn’t possibly let an Indo go away empty handed. Standing outside my window for better eye contact, he said, mostly through gestures, that he had been to India. Ganga, Ganga! Varanasi, Varanasi! Ohohoho! He exclaimed, rubbing his hands together and noisily sucking in his breath as if that would somehow supply him the words he so badly needed. Indo, and he bowed deeply to me again. I could kinda sense he had a crush on me, as he fumbled for words. “Thank you again, it’s very, very kind of you, Sir! And now, airport please?” Ah, Yes, yes, he said, promptly driving me again.

At the airport, there was a lot more bowing on both sides. I blew him a flying kiss, and I could see his eyes glimmer with tears, as he put his hand on his heart, and watched me till I disappeared behind the airport doors. But I always remember his kindness—20 years later.

Meenakshi Shedde is India and South Asia Delegate to the Berlin International Film Festival, National Award-winning critic, curator to festivals worldwide and journalist.
Reach her at meenakshi.shedde@mid-day.com

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Festival chauffeurs

14 1
19.11.2023

Soon he stopped outside a local police station. One minuta please, he said. Then I realised he was an off-duty cop!

Illustration/Uday Mohite

The festival director of one of the top film festivals in the world was sharing his journey. He said he started out as a volunteer, and if I remember right, he said they offered him the post of a chauffeur. He refused and said he wanted to do something in programming. He joined programming, and years later, is head of one of the top festivals. I recall this, not only to underline how great careers can start innocuously with a simple bit of volunteering, but also to honour the post he turned down—chauffeurs!

Now, I’ve been a train girl all my life. My family has never owned a car—or driver. In an unforgiving city like Mumbai, where I spent one hour each way by train, so two hours down the drain daily when I was in mainstream journalism—a car commute would mean about three-four hours daily, and I simply didn’t have the patience for a car. Most of my friends in Europe don’t have cars........

© Midday


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