Where is Tikli village?
-What? -The name of the village won't help.
What is there to think about?
What's the full address?
When you North Indians say, "What's the full address,"
-Ask him. -What's the full address?
If you don't even know the village's name, what will you do with the full address?
-Amazing. -Who do you want to find?
What's his full name?
Did you just say "fuck"?
You say "fuck you" to me, in my own village?
Ombir, Balakram, get the car!
Laugh now. Asshole, laugh.
Hold this.
Get out of the car.
-What happened? -He said, "Fuck you."
He said, "fuck you" to us in our own village.
-He said, "Fuck you"? -"Fuck it."
Dear sir, saying "Fuck you" is very common for them.
If they meet someone, they say "fuck you." If they don't, "fuck you."
If the work is done, they say "fuck you." If not done, "fuck you."
If they like the food, they say "fuck you." If they don't, "fuck you."
This is their English language.
Don't take it to heart, just drop it.
Dear Sir, leave it.
Let it be.
Sorry. Sorry, man.
I said, "Fuck it," not "Fuck you."
-Okay. -Thank you.
Why are you here?
I came looking for you.
-Okay, I'll take you. -Okay.
Hey, tractor guy, stop.
Hey, stop! Stop!
I need a lift.
-Where do you want to go? -Tatvam mansion.
What's the full address?
Hello.
You know what the problem is?
You don't consider us drivers as humans.
You only think of us as machines that drive.
We shouldn't breathe or sweat.
We shouldn't sneeze. We should suppress farts.
I feel so angry when rich people see us but ignore us.
My blood starts boiling.
No, I won't eat anything.
It's your first time here. You have to eat.
-I'm not hungry. -Don't worry, we belong to a high caste.
Our surname in the community is…
Sir, what is my surname?
I worked for you for ten years.
What's my full name?
Okay, I forgive you.
My surname is Dahiya. Right at the top. Please eat.
In my home, no one knows what caste we belong to.
One who doesn't know his caste always belongs to the upper caste.
What?
-What, were you getting bored? -No, sir.
Stay here, stand with us.
Sir, I feel uncomfortable around rich people.
The other day, you said I didn't treat you like a human being.
Now you're saying you feel uncomfortable. Come on, eat something.
This food won't do.
Want a banana?
-A banana? -Yes.
This banana is amazing.
There it is.
Why is it on the wall like that?
It's from Australia.
Only three crops a year. They taste amazing.
-They do? -Yes, try it.
-Should I eat it? -Yes, man.
Just take it. Someone will replace it.
-How is it? -Sweet.
Is it?
What exactly is happening here?
Do you see that guy?
-Mr. Basu? -Yes.
His driver is my pupil.
He's an amazing person. He's a professor and cares about the poor.
-Is that so? -Yes.
I think you should talk to him about your daughter's college admission.
-Would he help? -You can at least try.
-Now? -If not now, when?
Bengalis are rich at heart.
Excuse me, sorry.
Mr. Basu about my daughter's college admission.
Basu, sir, your driver is my friend.
Mr. Basu.
Don't you see me?
This exactly is rich people's worst trait.
You see us but you ignore us.
Mr. Basu.
Hey, professor!
Motherfucker!