Like everybody else in Chennai (and I suppose all over India), I am forced to take autorickshaws often, if grudgingly. There is the usual haggling over the fare for short distances and the search for an auto driver who "puts the meter." But taking autorickshaws is a blessing compared to actually driving a two-wheeler in the chaotic and perilous Chennai traffic, and thus it is that I have a whole range of experiences with them and their drivers.

They come in all shapes and sizes (the drivers, I mean). There are the slow, rules-obeying chaps with ancient vehicles to match, who take you safely alright but lull you into a slumber only to be awaken you to ask for directions. And everybody knows the reckless daredevils who cut through traffic like there's no tomorrow and have you wishing you had taken your two-wheeler after all. There is also the moderate - he turns on the meter as soon as you get in and drives calmly, taking you without any hassles to your destination - what wouldn't I give to have a personal chauffeur like him. But all of them ensure that every auto ride is an adventure.

Once Navin and I got into an auto and it was after a few minutes that we realised that the driver hadn't turned on the meter. Before long, we were having an animated argument with him telling him he should have told us if the meter didn't work. By this time, we had travelled about two kilometres and the driver, in a heated moment, told us we could take another auto if we wished (and that too in English!). Unfortunately for him, we had just stopped at a traffic signal and before he could get out another word, we got down, hailed another auto and were off. We were initially quite miffed but the more we recalled the driver's astonishment, the more we laughed.

Another time, Navin, Chandru and I had just got into an auto and were chatting away when I felt the auto driver trying to catch my eye in the mirror and smiling. When I glared at him, hoping to intimidate him, he asked, "Madam, how are you? Don't you remember me? You used to frequently take my auto - you were working at Balaji Nagar, weren't you?" I had quit that job months ago and was amazed at his memory. But I suppose it was only a testimony to my frequent auto trips!

I have always thought that auto drivers have interesting occupations - they get a peek into their passengers' lives as most people tend to forget the driver's presence and happily discuss even their secrets. In Bangalore for an internship, my friend and I were travelling in an auto and discussing the merits of the city's young men, fighting over the last one who had passed us on a motorbike. All this in Tamil. Only when we were getting down and paying him did he reveal that he could understand Tamil. Imagine our embarrassment! We were highly wary of what we said during auto rides after that.

Though much maligned, autos and their drivers will always be an integral part of our lives.