Commuting has a whole new meaning in this country. It’s not just getting from point A to B through road traffic. No, here it is people traffic. There are too many people everywhere. This means running out of autos, pushing into metros, and sharing a cycle rikshaw with a stranger:
It takes three forms of travel for me to get to my office. First, I take a autorikshaw to the metro. This costs me Rs30 (it should cost me less but 1. I can’t bargain, 2. I can’t disguise my foreignness, and 3. It doesn’t kill me to give a hardworking autorikshaw-vala an extra fraction of a dollar). It took me a practice run with my masi (in the monsoon rain for an extra challenge) to figure out how to hail an auto and to then fix the price.
At the metro, after a security frisk, bag check, and swiping my “smart card,” I push my way into the women’s compartment. I can’t handle to co-ed compartments. Indian men have no shame in undressing you with their eyes. Actually, Indian men and women. Women stare at me like I am the dirt between their toes. I have no idea why. Maybe I over-interpret stares. Finally, 30 min of hanging on to the bars on the metro while being packed like a sardine, I reach Gurgaon. The greatest thing about the metro is that after the women pack themselves into it when really there is no room whatsoever, they start hissing and sighing loudly when they see other people doing the same thing to them. Basically, if you are uncomfortable with being touched this is not the place for you. One of the funniest moments on the metro to date has been an Aunty yelling in English: “Excuse me. Please stop acting like you are such high society. It’s very congested in here for all of us.” That made one idiotic college girl stops sighing every time someone nudged her.
Final leg of my commute is the cherished cycle-rikshaw. This out of place innovation is a cycling man acting like a horse in front of a chariot. The first day I sat in one I felt so bad for the man. In general, I am a lot taller/bigger than any of these girls here. Me along with my backpack must have been one of the hardest trips of his life. (Oh, I overpay here too but that’s because I want to be in my office asap and the longer you wait the more you sweat profusely. 10am in Gurgaon is no joke.) The cycle rikshaw does an excellent job of weaving through the traffic of cars and buses in the morning. MG road literally does not move in the morning, so if you aren’t in an AC car, you better be moving towards your destination somehow.
*Edit*
The cool thing about India is that if you are late for work during the morning rush, you and about 50 other million people are as well. This means people are ready to share your rikshaw, hitchhike in your car, or pile on top of 10 people into a 3 seater auto. In the method of sharing a rikshaw recently, I met a girl named Deepa. I was trying to politely ask the impolite rikshawwala to take me to Cybercity when this girl came running up to him and just sat in the rikshaw. She motioned me to sit with her. She seemed fairly harmless and this was about my 10th rikshaw attempt so I did not protest and sat down with her. On our way to the office I decided to just ask her who the hell she was... afterall she was sitting in my rikshaw and having to bump into each other while slowly putt-putting along the road to work becomes awkward in a matter of seconds! Turns our Deepa works at one of those big Cybercity companies, is my age, is from Kuwait, and lives near my house. She gave me her number and told me to call if I ever want to go shopping in Delhi. Then we split the cost of the rikshaw and went our own ways. I haven't seen her since but we do sometimes text each other. It was such a surreal rush-hour experience.
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