they appeared silently in the night….

All four sat together, laughing and sharing a bottle of wine. One looked up and noticed that two lines of cabs had formed silently, two abreast on the opposite side of the street.

“Must be some show finishing soon”, he said with a shrug. And returned to the telling of this week’s tale.

Quietly they came. Row upon row. A silent yellow vigil converged in the dark of the night, in the heart of the city.

“What’s happening?” she said, “My car is blocked in”. Her eyes follow the silhouette of groups of men, their uniforms disheveled from hours of sitting; gradually walk away from their familiar yellow shells.

At 2am on Wednesday morning, a young man named Rajneesh Joga drew his last breath. He was 27. He wouldn’t finish that accounting assignment, will never graduate and will never again clock in his hours as a part-time cab driver to make ends meet.

On Tuesday night Rajneesh picked up a job. Whilst driving, the job attempted to steal his cab causing the car to crash into a tree. The injuries to Rajneesh’s head and chest were fatal.

Last night hundreds of cabs converged on Spring Street, quiet ranks that grew.

Their drivers gathered on the steps of Parliament. ^[1] Banned from using their radios, they passed the message on, one at a time.

They came to gain the attention to the perils of their occupation before it happens again. They have families; friends; loved ones.

A chance encounter, which is their business, is all it could take.

The nature of the task of the cabbie is fraught with risks.

Who are you going to pick up next? Will your passenger entertain you with a lively chat? Will they ignore you, wrapped in their own lives? Or will they do as Rajneesh’s job did?

They are not asking for much ^[2], Mr Bracks ^[3] – just a little safety in the workplace.

Surely they deserve that.

Rest in peace Rajneesh Joga, let’s hope your life was not lost in vain.