Autos

A. and I stay with very wealthy, high class families. This has its perks - A/C, hot water, beautiful homes, etc. There are more downsides though. With status comes fear. An instance of staying out late (when we had stated in advance that this was what we would be doing) resulted in near hysterical lectures on how dangerous the city was. Any number of things could have happened to us. Many strictures followed (most of which have since been lifted, the hysteria passing) - of these, the most important was this: Don’t ride in strange autos.

Auto rickshaws, or autos, are the major means of transportation here. People take them everywhere, unless you are wealthy enough to own a car. Needless to say, A.’s and my families do not ride in autos. Autos bring you face to face with the city. Right up next to the screeching brakes of buses and the bodies dashing across the street. The sides of autos are open. The windows of cars are always rolled up.

It is impossible not to ride in strange autos. We’ve been here for one week. We know only one auto - the man who takes us to school. To move through the city, to get to know the city, to get to know the autos, we must ride in them. Ride with unknown drivers through strange streets. With windows rolled up, in cars trusted to known drivers, one need not know the city, no matter how long one lives here.

Yesterday A. and I got in a strange auto. It wasn’t in the best of shape - could hardly accelerate. The man brought his wife along too. The sketchiness of the auto brought to mind the unheeded warnings. They soon floated away, as we struck up a conversation with the man and his wife. He was from Burma, she from Vizag. She was pleased that we were studying Telugu, and offered her own instruction. It was lovely. I finally saw a little glimpse of the city.

So don’t ride with strange autos. You might end up a little closer to the city.