Autofocussed

I have always held the belief that by and large, auto-rickshaw walas across India are goons, thugs, louts, bullies and a few other unmentionable things which I can't bring myself to utter in public. But every time I make a trip to Bangalore or thereabouts, this conviction  of mine takes a really strong beating..

My friends in Bangalore constantly warn me about the auto-walas there... about their tendency to overcharge newbies in town, refusing to go by the meter, or taking a circuitous route. But my experiences so far have been 100% good. I was in Madanapalle and Bangalore recently, and I think it is time I spoke up for the undaunted and the chivalrous amongst this much-maligned species - the 'pigeons among the cats', so to speak!

The Good...

My first good-samaritan auto-wala story is set in Madanapalle. I had just landed up at the Madanapalle bus stop, travelling alone. It was my first visit there. As I walked along towards the stand where autos were lined up, struggling slightly with my heavy bags, an old auto-rickshaw wala suddenly rushed towards me out of the line of autos, saying, "Where Akka? Rishi valley? Come come, I take you." I was slightly on my guard at this sudden charge, but he looked too old and meek for me to feel threatened in any way. So  I climbed in. On the long winding road to Rishi Valley, he lamented about how the younger lot of autowallas were always out make a fast buck by cheating newcomers...  thereby explaining his jack-in-the-box kind of reaction to my arrival. 

The old man's chivalry did not end there. I had to leave my bags at the RV guest house and then go to the office. And I did not know the way. So he offered to wait while I put my bags in the room, and then drop me at the office. So far so good, but there was one complication. The person with the keys to the guest house was msssing and no one had the faintest notion where he was. Someone went off to look for him. Not wanting to hold back the sweet old auto-wala, I thanked him, paid him and told him to go. But he would not budge. He had made a committment to see me off at the RV office, and he was not leaving without doing so! So we waited. 5 min went by... 10 min... 20 min... finally, after 40 minutes the caretaker came with the keys. The old man helped me deposit my bags, and then depositted me at the office before going on his way, with the air of one who has just seen his granddaughter off safely!

And oh yes, he simply refused to take any extra money for the extra bit or the long wait.

Since then, I have come across other auto-walas around the RV campus who take you to your destination free of cost if the distance is short, and they happen to be going your way... hard to believe for us city folk, but true!

The Bad and the Ugly...

Contrast this with the hoods one has to deal with in Navi Mumbai, on a day-in day-out basis. In Mumbai they have the 'hafta'-collecting bhais, and in Navi Mumbai we have the auto-rickshaw walas... both of these are highly evolved species of extortionists. The Navi-Mumbai auto-bhais overcharge as a matter of right. You should just see the indignant look they give you if you question the inflated fare they quote! And they are super quick to sense the exact degree of desperation while picking up a fare. Sometimes I feel they have a secret 'Overcharge Rate Chart'!

Honestly, the way the auto-bhais here wield absolute power, I think it is high time Navi Mumbai was declared an autocracy!

And I do not even want to start upon the antics of the Delhi auto-wala... that supremely regal being, who continues his search for treasure - deep inside his nose with his index finger, oblivious of your presence - even as you try to coax him to take you to your destination! And you are not sure which is worse, him refusing to ply you, or agreeing to do so and handing you your change with his treasure-laden fingers...

And the Good, Again...

Meanwhile, my ode to the Bangalore auto-walas is not over yet! The old man in Madanapalle was the second good samaritan auto-wala who came to my rescue that day. The story started at the Bangalore bus stop. Someone had booked me an online ticket from Bangalore to Madanapalle on an APSRTC bus. So, there I was at an unfamiliar bus stop, running helter skelter, trying to find which terminal I was to get the bus from. The fact that I could read neither Telugu nor Kannada, didn't help. I had just walked 2 or 3 times from one end of the vast station to the other, misguided by various people, including (as I found out later) those at the info booth. I was standing at a platform at one end of the station, where the person at the info booth had asked me to wait for the Tirupathi bus. On inquiring from the other people waiting there, I gathered  that the Tirupathi bus would not go to Madanapalle.

At this time, seeing me all hot and flustered, one of the auto-walas from the nearby auto stand came up to me and said, "You go Madanapalle, madam? Bus not here." I have been brought up in Delhi - where if a lone woman traveller responds  to a strange man who comes up to her, it is equivalent to inviting him politely to molest her. So, my initial reaction was to give him a wide berth. But the man's tone had some conviction which made me believe him. "Then where", I asked. "I not know. You ask in counter." It was now 7.10 a.m, and my bus was supposed to leave at 7.15. Mentally preparing myself to scuttle my trip, I started picking up my bags and bracing for the run to the info booth once again. And then the auto-wala said, "You wait madam, I ask." And before I could say anything - up went the veshti to knee-level with a snap, and out sprinted the man to the info booth at top speed. In a minute, he was back, saying, "You go Kadapa bus. It is in opposite side." I ran and caught the bus just as it was pulling out of the station.

The man did not ask for any money. And there was no time for me to even thank him properly. But this piece of writing is a thank-you note to all those auto-walas who help us keep the faith, through such acts that defy the ignominy that follows their lot...

Our Leh-Days

Leh jayenge!

It looked like it was going to happen after all - the four of us taking off for a family holiday to Ladakh!

This might seem like a simple enough task to some families - but for us, it was not. Let me explain. Honestly, in the past 5 years or so, it might have been easier to get Shahrukh, Salman and Amir in the same room rather than the 4 of us!! Our schedules were definitely mismatched - maybe even our preferences. Sudarshan only took time off from his work and tours to visit home once in a while. Amartya's attitude towards home was that  'it's a decent place for getting a bed, a clean loo, and breakfast - FREE!'. And as for me, people had started commenting that my laptop and I would make a great Fevicol ad.

So, you see, it was no mean feat to get our act together and actually take off for this holiday as a team.. 

'Don't be a Gama in the Land of Lama'

View of Leh

Landing at Leh airport, we were met by our college-time-ka-yaar Amit, now Colonel Amit Srivastava - and promptly given (in true military style) a talking to about the do's and don'ts of being in a high altitude cold desert. This was summarised best in the one-liner posted on the walls of the guest house at the army camp : "Don't be a Gama in the Land of Lama". Simply put - I think this translates into 'Leave your ego behind and don't try to prove your physical prowess when you come to Ladakh.' :)


We soon realised that when they say Ladakh is a place of 'breathtaking beauty', it is quite literally so!! The awe-inspiring visuals hit you even as you land at Leh, but so does the lack of oxygen. We wheezed and panted at the smallest hint of physical activity..

First day at Leh: Much puffing, panting and TT

So, for the next 1.5 days we cooled our heels (or should I say warmed them?) in our cosy beds with the TV, and Asterix & Obelix for company. When tired of resting, we would all troop off to the sports room - where 2 of the adults would take turns to play TT, while the third tried to restrain Ananya from decimating the pool table with the cue...

On the third day, just when we were starting to feel  rather settled in our warm rooms, we had to leave for a day-trip to Pangong Lake - which many now refer to as the '3 Idiots Lake'. On the way, we had to cross Chang-La pass, the third highest motorable road in the world, at a height of 17586 ft. While driving up to the pass, we came across our first snow on the hillside - some old, sad looking, mud splattered snow. Since the kids had never seen snow before, we asked the driver if we could get down and touch it, because we might not find any later. He gave us a look that was 75% amusement and 25% disdain, and said, "Aage snow hi snow hai, aur kuch nahi dikhega." 

And so there was! Soon we were amidst the real thing - deep, pristine white snow all around! It was absolutely fantafabulous! But as luck would have it, we got stuck in a bad traffic jam near the pass. Now, the menfolk - namely Sudarshan, Amartya and an army jawan who had accompanied us, had not paid heed to the warning of the first day. So, trying to be Gamas in the land of Lama, they had come without adequate warm clothing. And at 17586 ft that is not a joke! Well, they had to pay the price for their indiscretions... To cut a long story short - by the end of the trip, the only ones who had not revealed (in grisly detail) the contents of their breakfast, mid-morning snack and lunch, were Ananya and I... :)

Pangong Tso - Serenity unlimited...

But the one hour we spent at the Pangong lake made it all worth the while. As I keep saying, you can't get much closer to heaven on earth than this place...

Over the next 4-5 days, we saw the magnificent Indus (Sindhu) river winding its way through the mountains; sighted marmots, kiangs, and yaks;  travelled over the world's highest motorable road at Khardung-la to cross over into the mesmerizing Nubra valley; saw the sand dunes at Hundar and got a taste of the Silk Road experience on the two-humped bactrian camels ...

(Here, Amartya and Ananya remind me that I have forgotten to mention the most remarkable thing we experienced during the trip - the butter chicken served at the army guest house at Pratap Pur, where we spent the night at Nubra... :) )

We even experienced a fresh snowfall (near Khardungla) and a sandstorm (at Nubra) - within a span of 24 hours...!!!

Seriously, how much more can you live life in one week? :)

'Test your Nerves on My Curves'

:D

Wondering what that is? Well it's only one of the many quirky road signs you see while driving in and around Ladakh. While some of them make you grin ('Lower Your Gear, Curve is Near'), others make you wonder ('Darling I like you, but not so fast')... and still others are pretty bizarre ('If You Are Married, Divorce Speed'). What about bachelors, divorcees, widowers et al, you ask!

Well, if nothing else, at least some people slow down near the signs just to read them for their entertainment value!

Jule, Ladakh!

A word about the Ladakhi people. Initially, we felt quite shocked hearing the taxi fares etc. in Leh - and were just starting to feel that rank commercialization is taking over the place. But once we got talking to the taxi drivers etc, we understood exactly how tough life is for the locals - for most of them, it's severe weather and no income in the six months of winter. But still, they are always courteous and cheerful. The cheery 'Ji ji ji' with which they pepper all their talk stays in your mind and makes you smile long after you have parted...


Mesmerizing visuals. A surprise waiting almost at every turn of the road as the visuals change dramatically. Exotic animals. Amazing serenity. Charming people. Ladakh is a magnificent place indeed, but one of the main reasons for this trip being really special for us was the special people there - our old friends. There was Amit and his family, with whom we shared a few quiet evenings over cocktails or kawa chai in the strategically located gazebo at the army camp - surrounded by the mountains and howling evening winds.


And then there was Colonel Sonam Wangchuk and his lovely extended family - Sudarshan's friends and neighbours from his childhood days in Delhi. What a great yakking session we all had... transported back to those old days in R. K. Puram - those days when we would play outdoors till late in the evening, sleep in charpais out in the open, bunk school to go and catch the latest Amitabh Bachchan flick, and so so much more! All this over steaming bowls of thukpa and some enchanting live music provided by the two boys, Amartya and Riggyal (Col Sonam's son)...


(Incidentally, Colonel Wangchuk is a Kargil war hero, and a Mahavir Chakra awardee. There is even a scene in the film 'Lakshya' that is based on his feat at Kargil - but we really couldn't remember when we last met such a down-to-earth, and totally chilled out person! We felt so proud knowing him!)


We left Ladakh wishing to return someday, with much time on hand. And yes, we felt much closer as a family than we had felt for a long time. So, "Jule, Ladakh!" it is! Jule - that priceless word in the local lingo which means everything from 'hello', to 'thank you'...


Jule, indeed.

Leh Gate

The kids fooling around on the banks of Indus

The silk route experience on Bactrian camels at Nubra valley

Falling snowflakes - at South Pullu
 on way to Khardungla pass

No escape from traffic jams - even at 17000 ft
(near Khardungla pass, the world's highest motorable road)

Delhi Diary

I made a very short trip to Delhi last week to bring my mother to Mumbai. As usual, Delhi left me confused as to whether I like it or detest it. I started off on a not-so-good note by landing up at Nizamuddin station. Nizammudin station, for those uninitiated, can easily be termed as the ‘travellers’ nightmare’. It’s utter chaos personified. Amidst the chaos, I debated the relative merits and demerits of the options I had: engaging in oral boxing matches with various touts, or sweating it through a long serpentine queue for a prepaid rickshaw. I decided on the latter, only to discover that the counter just took the responsibility of doling out the pre paid tickets. Actually getting hold of an auto-wallah to go to my destination was my own lookout!

After a long search for a rickshaw-walla willing to go to Janakpuri, I finally found one. Needless to say, he relented only because he wanted to go towards that direction anyway. The relief was short lived, though - the rickshaw-wallah seemed to be in an inordinate hurry to get somewhere. The way he drove the auto through traffic snares, I was scared he would trim the toes of people standing by the roadside. And he drove over speed breakers at about 80kmph, with as much care as if he was driving an SUV over a tiny bug.

I sat quietly, nursing my jostled insides, and contemplated asking him to slow down – but decided against it. Incurring his wrath at that point did not seem a good idea.

Returning to Mumbai the next day, I got stuck in terrible traffic jams at various points on my way home (it was Muharram day and processions were out on every street). And I noticed a pattern – of how Delhi traffic jams vary from their Mumbai counterparts. Here is a representation illustrating the difference:

A comparative representation of traffic jams in Mumbai vs Delhi. Each arrow represents a vehicle, and the arrowhead the direction in which it is trying to move...

While both cities have terrible traffic jams, in Mumbai you keep moving while in a jam (albeit at a speed at which an old snail taking a leisurely stroll could overtake you). In Delhi, on the other hand, a jam is ABSOLUTELY chaotic – and there is no way you can move ahead unless you are ready to do one of the following things:

a) Be ready to knock over the people standing by and drive over them

b) Be ready to drive over the tops of other vehicles

c) Get down from your vehicle and start an argument with another driver – and go on arguing till the traffic clears or one of you kills the other...

But there were some heartening bits of news about Delhi – I learnt that my mother’s presswalla’s (dhobi’s) son was doing MCA… nice! And I read in the papers that for the new lot of auto rickshaw permits in Delhi, women drivers would be given preference – a leap forward again, after the women conductors in DTC buses! Hope the move works out...

Delhi... Lost and Found

Recently, I made a trip to Delhi, to visit Ma. I mostly stayed indoors, catching up on all the family gossip with Ma, and of course, clearing the hundreds of spam sms’s flooding her phone inbox...:-/ http://womaninterrupted-merablog.blogspot.com/2011/02/mother-of-all-technologies.html

But even the limited time I spent out on the streets of Delhi gave me something to think about. In many ways, I started rediscovering the city I grew up in...

Delhi dehleez

On the August Kranti from Mumbai to Delhi, my immediate neighbours in the compartment were 4 men (not traveling together). They started conversing  as soon as the train started. They spoke in a coarse tongue, and their conversation consisted solely of business deals and money talk. “Haan haan, woh do lakh maang raha hai toh kal hi pahuncha de na usey paise!” sort of thing. The only time they deviated from the topic of ‘making money’ was when a couple of them waxed eloquent about the greatness of Delhi and rued the fact they had to travel to Mumbai so often for business.

Come night. One of the men clambered on to the top berth, and almost immediately, started snoring. Actually, to call it simply ‘snoring’ is an insult - the sound was roughly equivalent to 5 trains ramming simultaneously into a mountain, and then letting out a loud, anguished whistle. In the morning, one of the other men, tongue firmly in cheek, asked him, “Achchhi neend aayi?” “Haan ji, mujhe toh bahut badhiya neend aayi”, he replied. The first man shot back, “Aur aapki badhiya neend ne hum sab ko poori raat jagaye rakha!”

I could not help smiling! Simple. Direct. Unpretentious. Two years ago I would have been judgemental. But now, I found myself wondering which is better - artlessness and unsophistication, or the pretentious world where you go ‘Hey…lovely to see you!’ and ‘muah muah’ even at your worst enemies at a party…

‘Apne shahar ki toh baat hi alag hai…Dilli toh dilwalon ki’, one of them quipped, as the train chugged into Delhi.

Delhi Belle

I don’t know what made me travel by a DTC bus that day. And I definitely don’t remember when I last rode on one – definitely not in the last 15 years.

I was to visit a friend in far-flung Sarita Vihar, and I had every intention of using the universally applauded Delhi Metro. But at the last minute I changed my mind, and hopped into an AC bus on route 724…can’t think of any good reason for doing it, except the corny: ‘It was fate’. It probably was – I was destined to meet someone.

Inside the bus, I looked around for a ‘safe’ seat – having grown up in Delhi and being well aware of the noxious ‘paws’ lurking around in DTC buses. My eyes zeroed in on an empty seat next to a demure looking, smartly turned out young woman in her 20’s, and I went and sat down there.

Next, I started looking around for the conductor. A man strode purposefully towards us from the front of the bus. He came right up to where we sat and held out his hand to the young lady sitting next to me. The lady dug into her large bag. Ok, here he is, thought I, and rummaged into my bag to locate my wallet. Pulling out the cash, I turned towards the man to collect my ticket – and got a HUGE surprise.

It was the well-dressed woman next to me who was handing over the ticket – she was the conductor of bus #724!!! And even as I sat there - blushing inwardly for my presumptuousness and marveling at the whole idea of a woman conductor in a DTC bus, she hollered, in a strict school-principalish voice, “Haan bhaiya! Aage wale aa kar apne apne ticket le lo!”

I was completely fascinated, and spent the rest of my journey chatting with her. Most of what I heard was a pleasant surprise. Hired after the Commonwealth Games, these women came looking for the security of a government job – the coveted ‘sarkari naukri’. This particular lady had left a ‘desk job’ with a private company for this. Women conductors are put on day shifts, ending by 4 or so, for safety. But still, she was looking forward to being promoted to a desk job soon.

Crossing all limits of inquisitiveness, I asked her whether the crowd in AC buses behaved any better than in the others. Not really, she replied - in fact they misbehaved with more confidence!

A man came up to me (mistaking me for the conductor) and asked for a ticket… I could not decide whether to feel pleased or insulted – and ended up feeling bemused. But overall, it would be a rather adventurous job, I surmised…

Did she like this job? I asked, pushing the boundaries of politeness again. She gave me one withering look – “Would you?” Well, that put me firmly in my place!

Lost and Found

But still, the whole idea was a big and bold step forward for Delhi, I thought. And somehow, after a long, long time I started liking Delhi again during this trip…

Of course, the ubiquitous traffic snares are still very much in place, and your ears get tired trying to beep out all the ma-behn gaalis being bandied about, and no Delhi public place is quite complete without a few men standing around scratching their balls with supreme abandon…

But still, on looking inside myself, I could no longer find the active dislike for the city that I had developed some years ago.

And that brings me to the inevitable - the ‘Mumbai vs Delhi’ bit…

I have lived in Mumbai for over 5 years now. It is supremely impersonal. Everyone is immersed in themselves - nobody gives a damn for anyone else… so much so, that sometimes you start wondering if you really exist! So maybe that is why I found Delhi a welcome change – where people at least notice you, even if it is to drive too close to the pavement you are walking on - to splash muddy water from a puddle on to you (on purpose, naturally). Or lean out of their vehicle at a traffic signal to stare at you as if you were the last specimen of a female homo-sapien left on earth…

Delhi is the city of my birth... the place where I grew up, went to school and college, started my career, got married. But somewhere down the line I had distanced myself from it. It was a good place to go shopping and have fun times with friends, but that was it.

But this time, I started feeling reconnected to the city again. Of course, the DTC experience and all had something to do with it. But I think a lot of it was also due to a meeting with my school-friend Gautami. Time melted away as we spoke of the days gone by, giggled at juvenile jokes, and shared the most heartfelt joys and sorrows.

As I put on my red-and-black shoes to go out, she said ‘Oye, 40 saal ki ho gayi hai - sharam nahi aati laal jootey pehente huey!’ And then suddenly realised she was carrying a large red purse - and we both went into fits of laughter...Nobody could have guessed we were meeting after so many years – yes, it had taken us 22 long years to ‘find’ each other again.

And it was the same with Delhi. And I plan to keep in touch – with the people and places that matter. I guess, there comes a time in your life when you need to ‘Get back to where you once belonged’…