Feature :: And Death He Rode
"Bhai! Bas zinda pohancha do.
Paanch saal ke baad ghar aaya."
-My brother to the driver
I’m sure you
heard this phrase, ‘Auto wale ke jaisa
kaiku chalaare?’ (Why are you driving like an autowala?) I don’t know if
it’s just a Hyderabad thing or not but, over here we hear it quite often. It is
most popular with mothers who scream this phrase when their sons go at a ‘high
speed' of 40 kmph. *ahem* In Hyderabad,
it’s typical how the autowalas drive. They can make the rashest drivers pee in
their sleep. For an auto driver speed breakers and bumps do not exist. And, who
cares about the traffic or the so called rules? Their motto is: Once you start, hit the brakes only when reach
the destination.
Last night I
hired an auto. Thankfully, there was no hungama
for the fare’s discussion. This fellow was such a reckless driver that I was
literally (I really mean it) praying that I reach home alive. To him the roads
appeared empty or maybe, he couldn’t see people or vehicles or sidewalks. He ‘dhoom machalay-ed’ on and I sat in the
back praying every second, reciting all the duas
and darood I knew for road safety.
It’s not just the autowalas!
A few years
ago when my brother returned from the US after five years, we all went to
receive him. It so happened that my brother, along with his friend and our
cousin, took a cab while the rest of us rode in our car. I remember seeing my
brother shaken up so bad after that ride, that he was dazzled and his life seemed
dependent on the driver. ‘Bhai! Bas zinda
pohancha do. Paanch saal ke baad ghar aaya,’ is what he told him. ‘This is
nothing, bhaiya. Hire an auto and you’ll know,’ I replied to that statement,
which I thought to be quite wise and cynical of myself.
But wait! There’s another side to this.
During my
eleventh grade, I used to go to the bus stop in a cycle rickshaw, as it was not
at a walking distance from our place and ten rupees cheaper than traveling in
an auto. I was a student and every rupee mattered. So anyway, one evening I
hired the cycle rickshaw to return home. The driver was a typical old man, bent
at the waist, skinny and bald. He asked me six rupees and that was a rupee
extra than what I gave daily. I refused. (Yeah! I’m stubborn that way.) ‘Roz jaate uncle. Roz paanch rupye hi dete’.
The old man simply nodded and I got in.
When I think
about that ride, I know that it was my best one so far. I felt like I was
floating on clouds over water. The old man was too gentle; not a single jerk,
not a twist of tyres over stones, gracefully avoiding the ditches—Oh my! He was
an angel, if ever I met one. I wish that ride never ended. I ended up giving
him ten bucks, which he first refused. But, I insisted and thanked him with all
my heart until he agreed. I still remember the smile he gave. Cracked lips, missing
teeth, lines, wrinkles and a couple of scars gracing his dark face--it was
beautiful.
The Adventure Vehicle: Hyderabad Autos
And then
there are some for whom a speed of 20 kmph is a ‘daredevil feat’. They drive as
a service to other commuters; let them pass, stop for every person on the road,
or stop at every temple and bow for a while—yeah! I’ve had it all. And I’m sure
there’s more to come. I guarantee that the Hyderabad autowalas never fail to
amaze.
