My Auto Stories…

Another one of those days when the driver of the auto rickshaw I traveled in felt compelled to dole out some advice to me.

It’s been a consistent event in my life. Ever so often I end up taking a rick/auto, whose driver has something to tell me or teach me or even lecture me on. I have been scolded, taught, made to wonder, laugh, and fear and amused at many of those who took me on a ride.

Some have let me off, without taking a penny in return (has happened only in DELHI and they were extremely well meaning old men) while others have haggled and been cursed by me in turn.

I distinctly this one man who drove me from Connaught Place to Munirka and on learning that I was a student at JNU, he spoke with perfect clarity about the UN and told me to get a job with the UN and do India proud. He was the first auto driver to turn down his fare.

Others have spoken to me in well-structured English, despite being clad in monstrous smelly clothes.

Some have made me violent beyond comparison and I have walked away cursing them like no other and invoking the gods to cause a road accident.

I remember the night I was travelling with a group of friends by bus, and we had reached Hyderabad and were to board a connecting train. It was 4 am and just outside the railway station, autos were queued up all playing songs from Rajni starrer Baasha at full blast.

Another time, the driver proudly spoke to me about his sons, both of whom were pursuing professional degrees with full scholarships and were the top scorers in their respective colleges. For a man who had run away from a village with a dream of making it big, he was now living his dreams through them. Unable to mouth English, he was drawing up plans to send his eldest son to the US.

One good man actually saved me from some stupid bike-rider who was tailing me insistently. The rick guy not just lost the bike’s tail, but also escorted me to a cop, placed a complaint and dropped me off, for not a penny more than what we had agreed on, though we had traveled double the distance. He even offered to pick me up the next day!!!

My memories of winters spent in Delhi are incomplete without autos. Many a time I have taken refuge in autos when the cold was biting and I had left home with a flimsy shawl to fan my vanity. Those rides, clinging to myself, covered from head to toe in a shawl, staring out at the lights and waiting to reach the warmth of my rajai were wonderful.

I have often wondered what possessed those men driving me around to turn to me and speak like they had been dared to bare their souls. What made them feel this cranky girl, either lighting a cigarette or trying hard to keep her teeth from chattering could do with some sensible talk? Many have taught me things. Many inspired me to write stories. Many sparked off hatred. But they have all been filled with learnings of all sorts.

Most of the men who chatted on while I sat in the back watching miles and buildings pass by were honest souls. But they form the small minority of those I bumped into. And surprisingly as I look back and recount my experiences, I realise the honest ones were all in Delhi, while the crudest ones were in Chennai and the ones with the most horrid attitudes in Bangalore. Some of the most learned though I have come across only in Kerala.

I can’t wait for my next ride…