Life in any city can never be complete without a travel story; one of epic proportions or of incidents that stay indelibly in one's mind. And no such story can ever disregard that one vehicle of all that is not reasonable or relatively fast: the humble auto-rickshaw. Many have travelled by this princely pauper of a vehicle but few have ridden to tell tales worth knowing. Now me, being fresh out of my cast but still chained with a brace, I had to take one everyday back from college for an entire month. Exorbitant fare non-withstanding, I found out that my affinity for strangeness follows me even here. Also, taking an auto instantly classifies you as a 'rich bastard' (though I prefer the more unheard of term 'Chutney Bastard', courtesy a certain son of an English teacher). But more than anything, my auto rides helped me find out more about the their drivers than any newspaper article or assignment ever could.
Let's begin from Day 1. Me being the bargain-challenged kid that I am, I waited for hours for an auto-driver who would agree to my reasonable price without argument. Suffice to say, I got enough dirty looks from the auto-drivers to last me the week. Now, in my desperate state of mind, I began to walk towards a parked auto a little distance from where I was standing. As I reached the man, I saw him quickly draw his hand away from his nose and as he did so, I notice a white streak on his palm. Of course, I thought nothing of it...till he started weaving through traffic like he was playing Roadrash. To add to this, he began talking about how he would disfigure the campaign posters of candidates for the Karnataka elections, while also laughing maniacally. I presume the white mark had something to do with this. Fortunately, I got home safely, though I wasn't sure about two other people crossing the road at the time.
A few days went by without incident. My next encounter was with another one of them, sporting brilliant white sneakers and speaking perfect English, though he had an affected Rajnikanth accent. Along with the ride, he also gave me a bunch of stickers with a cartoonised version of Rajni on them. But the most shocking part of this journey was that I found out he was Bihari....as a friend of mine would say, "Tamil has no boundaries, though it tends to weird you out sometimes".
But more than all of this, I also saw the other side of their lives. Three of the drivers all began to pour out their life-stories to me, of their problems with educating their children, old men being thrown out of homes and even deeper understandings of politics than any journalism student would envy. Some of them were even top rankers during school and college but couldn't continue, either due to a lack of funds or bureaucracy.
Angry old men as auto-drivers are never a welcoming sight. But I'd just like to say that maybe, just maybe, people will be considerate enough to know that they have something to be angry about...
Çiao!
Let's begin from Day 1. Me being the bargain-challenged kid that I am, I waited for hours for an auto-driver who would agree to my reasonable price without argument. Suffice to say, I got enough dirty looks from the auto-drivers to last me the week. Now, in my desperate state of mind, I began to walk towards a parked auto a little distance from where I was standing. As I reached the man, I saw him quickly draw his hand away from his nose and as he did so, I notice a white streak on his palm. Of course, I thought nothing of it...till he started weaving through traffic like he was playing Roadrash. To add to this, he began talking about how he would disfigure the campaign posters of candidates for the Karnataka elections, while also laughing maniacally. I presume the white mark had something to do with this. Fortunately, I got home safely, though I wasn't sure about two other people crossing the road at the time.
A few days went by without incident. My next encounter was with another one of them, sporting brilliant white sneakers and speaking perfect English, though he had an affected Rajnikanth accent. Along with the ride, he also gave me a bunch of stickers with a cartoonised version of Rajni on them. But the most shocking part of this journey was that I found out he was Bihari....as a friend of mine would say, "Tamil has no boundaries, though it tends to weird you out sometimes".
But more than all of this, I also saw the other side of their lives. Three of the drivers all began to pour out their life-stories to me, of their problems with educating their children, old men being thrown out of homes and even deeper understandings of politics than any journalism student would envy. Some of them were even top rankers during school and college but couldn't continue, either due to a lack of funds or bureaucracy.
Angry old men as auto-drivers are never a welcoming sight. But I'd just like to say that maybe, just maybe, people will be considerate enough to know that they have something to be angry about...
Çiao!
