Many an experience I have had in an autorickshaw in Kolkata, from the life-threatening to the embarrassing to the downright unpleasant, but never quite like this one.
I had been returning with my girlfriend one night, from Kankurgachi Pantaloons to Baguiati, Kolkata. We took the usual auto ride to Ultadanga, thence went looking for the next auto that would take us to Baguiati. It was late, so we were'nt expecting to get one easily, albeit we weren't exactly worried about not getting an auto. Fortunately, there was this autowalla right where we got down, shouting "Baguiati! Baguiati!" at the topp of his lungs. With the practiced eye of fishing out a prospective passenger, he glanced at us and immediately asked, "Kothai, Baguiati?" ("Where to, Baguiati?"). I had only begun to nod my head when pat came the terse fare-statement: "Dosh taka, bosun." ("Ten rupees, get in."). Of course, the usual fare is 7 rupees, but since it was late, and since he would be taking the wrong side of the road on the approach to the 24x7 kilometre-long jammed Keshtopur crosssing and thereby saving us at least fifteen minutes and a lot of general irritation, he demanded 10 Rupees more by right than by defiance. In we got, and off he went. There was room for two more passengers at the corners of the little front seat that rests on the single front tyre, and which he and I were already sharing, my girlfriend having occupied the last vacant part of the two-and-a-half seater back seat where there were already two people sitting, so he started rolling in low gear, without relinquishing the use of his lungs. Even as he drew beside a pedestrian, the latter asked, "Baguiati?" and got back the "Dosh taka" reply. The pedestrian walked away with a huff and a puff, shocked by the exorbitant fare, and our autowalllah muttered under his breath, "Go hang from a bus then, and reach home tomorrow!!"
Then he shifted the vehicle to third, and was just releasing the clutch when he found a colleague looking for passengers to the airport. As is the custom between every group of autodrivers, which are always close-knit, he slowed down to exchange a little bit of banter. "Babbah, to the airport, this late??!!" The other shouted back a reply, then our man resumed shouting, "Airport! airport!.. err.. dhatteri airport bolchi..(duh, what am I shouting Airport for!?) Baguiati, Baguiat!!" I couldn't help but laugh out loud, and he very good-naturedly joined in, saying, "Actually all this while I had been making trips to the airport, na.. it's still not gotten out of my system yet..!"
So off we went, the usual drill of passengers getting off and on, and all the while, he was trying to slap his unresponsive stereo into playing songs from his plugged in usb drive. And all that while, I had been dreading his success in that effort, fearing another bout of that high-bass music that sets your very bones vibrating, until you feel your heart's rhythm is getting affected -- a disturbing trend that has become fashion amongst Kolkata autodrivers lately: the louder and crackier your beats, the cooler your vehicle, and, by extension, you. At last, my good friend succeeded in extracting the beginnings of a beat or two from his sound system, and, after the initial trepidation of 10 seconds, I was completely bowled over.
For the first time in my short Kolkata life, I found Akon singing "It's beeen so long.. na na na na" from the very well balanced speakers of an Autorickshaw, and the driver miming the words, and swaying his head to the beats!!
My 10 bucks' worth of a ride had been more than worth it!! Thank you, Kolkata.
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