C.O.S.Y.

 C.O.S.Y. - Charlie Oscar Sierra Yankee

The phonetic alphabets kept reverberating in Rams ears.

Though he was away from his desk for almost a month now,images of that fateful day kept flashing accompanied with the audio bytes.

He was now at home not cosy at all haunted by those events.

As part of his job as a radio controller for a mini cab company (which was a new concept) it was his job to coordinate the drivers and get the optimal utilisation in matching drivers to customers needs.

When a person required a cab from destination A to destination B and telephoned the mini cab company it was Ram’s job to find the driver closest to A and pass on the job details and route to him.

All this was done without computers.

Managing a fleet of 10 drivers it was non stop static and conversations in the controllers office.

A very cool mind was required with ability to understand customer requirements,mentally compute routes and match it to availability of drivers who could organise the pick up and drop in a time efficient manner.

The normal official Taxi’s ploughed the routes as Lords of the roads and in their eyes mini cabs were the dacoits who robbed them of their fares.

This was the era before tech driven Uber, Ola came on the scene.

In such circumstances it was the requirement of a very efficient controller to optimise business and profits for the owners.

They were handsomely compensated by the owners for their skills.

Ram’s background as a cab driver for 20 years put him in an advantage to operate as an efficient cab controller.

The drivers had to have their own vehicles and register with the mini cab company to be a part of its fleet.

They owned the cars, had to take care of upkeep and all costs involved like fuel, maintenance, road tax insurance on their vehicles.

The deal was that a monthly fee had to be paid for the communication equipment that was loaned out to them by the cab company.

Apart from this a flat fee was charged for every job that the drivers got through the controller.

The life line for the drivers was the communication link that they had with the controller and the office.

This was the umbilical cord that connected then to their bread earning provider.

Each driver has an assigned number and being an open line to all drivers on the network conversations were heard by all.

Bhuvan was Ram’s only kid.

He was brought up with a lot of love and attention and it was Ram and his wife’s intention that Bhuvan should study well and be a professional.

Aged 25 after unsuccessful examinations and low grades he finally made up his mind to follow his father’s footsteps as a cab driver and one day graduate to a controller.

Obviously this got resistance by his parents but they grudgingly gave in.

It was his first day on the job.

Bhuvan has taken his fathers car spruced it and updated it to provide maximum comforts for his customers.

He got a good music system fitted and asked the mechanic to install lighting.

With all this in place he foresaw that this would give his fare a COSY ride.

After completing formalities to plough as a mini cab driver he got assigned to work with his father as driver number 22.

First day at work he drove to the temple offered prayers and salutations to the Lord.

Once back in his drivers seat he switched on the communication system to link onto the controller.

He heard his fathers voice crackling over the radio waves 

Two Two - come in — Two Two.

He replied - Two Two logging in with controller.

Over.

He heard his father — Two Two - passenger pick up from the temple you are at. 

Pick up point opposite Gulbahar Mithaiwala. 

Male passenger, black tee shirt, jeans pants. 

Holding Black brief case. 

Destination Chief Ministers bungalow. Please confirm.

Over.

Forgetting to click on transmitting switch Bhuvan replied — 

Roger Roger Controller 

Two Two here !!

Picking up customer now.

Over.

Switching on the music in his car Bhuvan cruised through the busy hustle bustle of devotees towards the Gulbahar Mithaiwala board that he could see a few yards away.

He sighted the young passenger standing on the footpath clinging onto his briefcase around his chest.

Anxiously waiting for the mini cab he was waving frantically and as soon as Bhuvan stopped hurriedly got in and barked — Chief Ministers Bungalow.

As he sat in the back seat Bhuvan cruised off.

The out station passenger asked him how long it would take in the thick of morning traffic.

On replying 30 minutes without turning back Bhuvan observed the passenger from his rear view mirror. He noticed some adjustments being done on dials in the open briefcase accompanied with cranking sounds.

The passenger clicked the briefcase shut and settled in.

In reality the passenger had heard thirteen (ONE THREE) instead of thirty (THREE ZERO)

As Bhuvan drove towards his destination happy with his ‘maiden’ customer he was already daydreaming of sitting in his fathers chair and directing the drivers in phonetics to their pick up points.

He was brought back to reality (around 12 minutes after pick up) with his fathers voice over the speakers.

Two Two  !!

Please confirm if passenger is on board.

Two Two please come in.

Realising that he had not transmitted his earlier confirmation message and proud of having his first customer well settled in Bhuvan clicked on his hand transmitter to send his voice over — 

Roger controller.

Two Two confirming.

All ok.

Passenger COSY

Repeat - Charlie Oscar Sierra Yankee

That’s the last Ram heard as this was followed by a boom and voice silence filled in with static.

That was the moment the bomb went off in the brief case.

The lone suicide bomber targeting the politicians bungalow had inadvertently mistimed it to ONE THREE minutes instead of THREE ZERO.