In praise of auto rickshaws ...

Everywhere we went in Kerala, we saw auto rickshaws - in Varkala, they parked on the helipad, waiting for sunburnt westerners - in Jew Town, they drew up outside the dimly lit antiques shops - a rosary would dangle from a rear view mirror, an image of Ganesh would bless a windscreen - on Vypin Island, they crossed the bridges over the back waters, passing by the blue dwellings of lean fishermen - 

They darted, like nervy lizards, through the tumultuous streets of Guruvayur - they missed, by a hair's breadth, collisions with Maruti Suzukis - they gathered upon the wild margins of a cross roads, brushed by gaudy lorries -  

The hopeful banter of the drivers in Fort Cochin would ring in my ears - 

Come into my Ferrari! - 

This Tuc Tuc is air conditioned! -

Azad would arrive outside the hotel an hour before we wanted him - 

You look for me he'd say with passion - much competition - 

The Times of India reported that some auto rickshaw drivers had gone on hunger strike - the police in Cochin were enforcing the official tariffs - 

I remembered Richard's stories of his taxi rides across Bangkok - we'd sipped Hole Hearted as though we were wise world travellers -