India’s
traditional mode of transportation, the “rickshaw bicycle”, is well known
around the world. However, what many people don’t realize is that this
old-fashioned method of traveling is long outdated. Nowadays, people get from
place to place in a handy little vehicle known as an “auto-rickshaw”, but more
commonly referred to as an “auto.”
I love
autos. Coming from a small town where the only public transportation is a small
bus called the “Green Mountain Express” that runs a few times a day, autos
represent independence and adventures. They are small and cute and bright
yellow, and conveniently squeeze through traffic better than a car. They take
you to your doorstep or wherever you want to go, but are much cheaper than
American taxis. They have open sides rather than doors, so when I’m in one I
feel like I’m one with the city. I can smell everything, hear everything, and see
everything that I pass. The multitudes of people going about their daily lives,
the other vehicles honking non-stop, and the mixed smell of street food and
garbage are just a few things that I love about this city. There’s no better
view of Chennai than from inside an auto. I can feel the rush of warm wind as
we speed down the highway and the creeping of lethargic humidity when we’re
stuck in traffic. I never feel more connected to this city than when I am in an
auto.
Autos represent my transformation
into an Indian. The first time I took an auto, I shyly tried to bargain with
the auto driver, although I had no idea what the correct rate was. These days,
I unashamedly haggle with the drivers, and even pull out my Tamil auto-lingo
when necessary. “Rombe adhigam, Anna. Kami pununge” I tell them. Translation: “It’s
very expensive, brother. Lower the price”. Once in a while an auto driver will
give me a good deal just because I spoke to him in Tamil. The first time I gave
an auto driver directions back to my house, the accomplishment I felt was unrivaled.
I was amazed at the fact that I could get home from anywhere in the city
without having to call someone and ask them to speak to the auto driver!
I’ll never forget the auto drivers—the
moody ones, the cheerful ones, the ones who blast music and the ones that think
they can sing. The ones that have no idea where they are going and the ones
that just won’t shut up. Some of my best
Tamil conversations have been with auto drivers. They never fail to be
impressed with the fact that I came to live in India, am wearing Indian
clothes, and can speak (well, barely) Tamil.
When I first came to Chennai, I
loved autos because of their novelty. Ten months later, the novelty has worn
off (somewhat) and I still love them. This evening I took an auto back to my
house for what felt like the millionth time. It is often when I am in an auto
that I realize how at home I feel in this city. I belong here. I call this
place home. And I really love autos.
