I returned from a extended solo trip to Jaipur and Dharamsala a few days back (I should put up my travel blog soon) and the morning I set foot in Bangalore again, a very dramatic incident with an auto driver played itself out. It involved me being of extremely autonomous pomp, and the auto driver, well, whatever. As I stormed off from the auto at the Railway Station towards the Bus Stand, with my 30kgs of luggage though; I saw something. I saw something, past the immediacy of the event, slowly, as the haze of my rage dissipated. In all my interactions with auto drivers, I had now concluded something supreme. An absolution about the very nature of the human race. Women. Are auto drivers.
As simple as that. A truth that I shall hold forth as my banner against the winds of society and it's pretence.
Ok, I know, any member of the (un)fairer sex reading this has half a mind to turn around and ride off without giving a second glance. Oh no wait, that's what auto drivers do. This analogy isn't working yet.
Here's a start. For most of us born in the '80s, Indians, middle of the middle class, and in the cities that weren't metros back then, a long term relationship with an auto driver was a given the moment you joined that school, that was 3kms away. Specifically state syllabus. The fancy pants CBSE and ICSE people had their own school buses. Depending on whether you did Kindergarten at the same school, or jumped schools because you got thrown out from the first, you spend some 10 to 13 years in that school. (Then you go off to Pre University College, which noone in any other state understands. +1 and +2 for the world, PUC for Karnataka) Now in this time, you rarely change auto rickshaw drivers. Driver uncle remains the same for a decade. Some troubled kids change autos too, but they grow up to be disturbed adults. Normally though, you have this Auto uncle, who shows up every morning, to take you to school; and almost without fail, he is there in the evening to pick you up. If ever there was a horrible speed bump on the road, that he didn't see and your lunch box took that opportune moment to come apart and spill it's contents onto the road, he would stop you by the Iyengar's bakery and pack a cream puff and honeycake so you don't go hungry in the afternoon. So here, the foundation is laid. This motherly setup with the auto driver, sets you for life, looking to auto drivers for transport, comfort and a sense of normalcy about life. Exactly what you look for in a woman.
You finish 10th standard, or SSLC (YesYesYellSee is the Kannada pronunciation) and join this morbid two year course that's supposed to set you up for life and orient you towards a field of study, and work, of your interest. My posterior does a better job of keeping the earth spinning on it's axis than these 'colleges' do their work. So instead, the auto uncle has vanished, you fend for yourself, learn bus routes, not just from college to home, like you used to in school; but from college to movie theatres, movie theatres to home, home to friend's home, so on and so forth. You are now empowered with princely sums of 20 or 30 rupees when you leave home, for safety, in case the bus doesn't show. Typically, this money is spent on Bhel Puri and a ticket bought in black, for some bad first day first show movie. And once the movie is over, way past normal bus hours, which in those days was 7 or 8pm, you need to get home, and fast. So where do you turn to? The auto! This where art imitates life. Auto imitates people I mean. For whatever reason, male bonding is huge in PUC. Except if you're in Mount Carmel College or Jyothi Nivas College, in which case male Bondage is huge. I digress. And male bonding gets murky after a bit, with so much slang thrown around, you keep forgetting who is your son, your brother-in-law, and who is your student (maga, machchan and sisya). Just to get away from it all, you search for female company, and you know what, PUC is a sweet time. Like the auto drivers were back then. You used to just stick a hand out, and one of them would stop by. And take you home, even if it was going to cost just a bit up from minimum. Slowly, since your places of movement are more or less the same, you run into the same auto driver again and again. Over a period of a few months, he knows subconsciously which days you go the movies (Fridays), friend's house (Saturdays) or sit at home. (Go to tuitions, if you joined the year long course. I didn't). Little do you know, this is the last turbulence free auto rides you will have, ever.
The gateway to manhood, and A rated films with similar titles opens with the Common Entrance Test and you are orphaned. Leaving the nest was never this hard. As you move around town, you notice there's more autos and auto drivers than you'd ever seen. And there's an invisible structure. the older more senior auto drivers are Divas. They bully the newbie drivers, and also the passengers. Seriously, they're straight out of Venus I tell you. But the senior Divas are more assured drivers on the road. They move seamlessly in and out of traffic. The newbies however are twitchy, and jump when you talk to them in the middle of a ride. Exactly why guys like older women.
But then comes the ugly part. You know there was a time, when an auto driver would drop you off at your destination, give you change upto paisa level accuracy, smile and leave. But not the drivers of today. Irrespective of seniority, they want more. Do you even remember a time in the last decade when auto drivers were actually happy with their meter rates and the money they earned? As it is, they never take where you want to go. Instead of Shankar Nag's good name, auto drivers should paste a big "NO" on their autos, makes communication so much faster and efficient. It's not like they're on their way anywhere. You stop them, ask for your destination, and they look away and go off. Atleast tell me where YOU'RE going, maybe I'll join you for a bit! Ok, now I don't know if I'm talking about women or auto drivers. (A little BengLoor Kannada humour) A more curious resemblance of autos, auto drivers to the ladies now; you know even today, in some of the smaller cities in the state, autos have no meter. The price is set on a ride by ride basis. But in Bangalore autos have always have always had meter. they used to be very reasonable, as compared to the ride quality and distance. But now, autos have too much meter (running). It's not healthy, to have uninhibited meter. Control irbEku. And then of course, that meter is a showpiece, without any real function, because most auto drivers prefer to set the price before hand (in Kannada slang, 'meter' refers to a sort of reckless bravery). Sometimes you need to pay them three times as much as the meter would cost. Maybe this is an auto driver parallel to the three date rule thing.
Of course one can go on complaining. Before Autos ran on Petrol. The blood of the internal combustion engine. Now they are just full of Gas. (LP Gas, but gas nonetheless). They have unions, and if ever you argue with one in public, their whole clan descends on you with the fury of a pack of hyenas. And there is no victory from there. Even if you want to ask one for a ride, if they are in a group, consider it impossible because somewhere in their midst is a communication blackhole. I find it best to lure one or two away from the pack so you can clearly, and boldly ask. As public transport remains a little inaccessible, and petrol prices reach past Proxima Centauri, the inevitable happens. To start with, there is a desperate shortage of Auto drivers. Like sex determination, I think profession determination by parents has created a skew auto-driver/non-auto-driver ratio. So you walk upto an auto and he says, "Sorry, Waiting". How many times have you not heard that in cafes, restuarants, college canteens? As you walk away you wonder, is (s)he really waiting for someone else, or did you just get blown off by an auto driver! Incredulously you look around for another auto and shock and horror, there is a free auto, but the passenger seat is taken by one of their own! I'm not a prude. Auto drivers should ride with auto drivers if they chose such a lifestyle you know. But when there's such a shortage of good auto drivers, and passengers like me are looking for the right auto driver for my destination, it just seems so unfair!
And all this makes me wonder. Women are truly like auto drivers. So getting one for yourself is your responsibility. Using your father's car is Arranged Marriage. And it becomes clear why so many guys like bikes. You ride by yourself, any time of the day, anywhere you want. Self help is best help. Of course if you have a pillion rider, you have someone to chat with along the ride. Bus rides are also nice. You're travelling with so many people. The ticket price is low and affordable, and there is no commitment about exactly where you want to get off. Even after you buy a ticket for the whole journey, you can get off after a couple of stops in case the bus got too noisy, dirty, or wasn't compatible with you. But still, you are nostalgic about the auto rides when you were a kid. You feel so safe, you can fall asleep as the driver takes you where you want. Can you fall asleep when you ride a bike? So despite the numerous troubles of them, you still stretch your arm out ever so often hoping for the best. Who knows, THIS time you might get a nice one. Right?
Women. Are auto drivers.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment