Anytime you are in Chennai and in the mood for some pulse racing adventure, just step out of your premises and flag down a black and yellow auto. Let the adventure begin…

When you stop him he will come speeding towards you and stop .02 cms from your left toenail. Whew! By the time you shove back your heart into its place – I mean it’s guaranteed to have reached your mouth by now – the guy is demanding to know where you want to go. You recover and mumble your destination. If he feels inclined to coming in the general direction that you want to go, you can get down to stage 2.

He will then test your arithmetic ability, your bargaining skills, your ability to think on your feet and trade veiled insults. The rule is before you plonk yourself on to the seat you fix the fare. (Ah yes all Chennai autos have electronic meters – but they are merely for ornamental purposes. They will never be switched on. Don’t ask me why – that’s fodder for another DP!). So yeah you bargain. Let’s say he starts with Rs 100. Then you give your much practiced laugh of ridicule “heh heh heh…nalla joke” (good joke). You go on to tell him how you go this route every day and it does not cost a paisa more than Rs 70. He snorts and then goes into crib mode “enna ma” he starts off – too much traffic, one-way, I have to all the way round to reach there, price of diesel and so on and on. And finally tells you – “ok 80 kudunga” (give me 80). It’s your turn to snort. And…well you get the drift. After two minutes of snorting – he agrees to Rs. 70. Exhausted you sit inside.

Invariably a picture of Rajinikanth in cowboy boots and hat, wearing red trousers and a yellow shirt with his hips thrust out, his eyebrows raised and a cocky smile in place – will stare down at you. Like he’s saying “enna rascala” to you! In horror you turn the other side and on this side there will inevitably be a picture of little Krishna grinning down at you. While you do these neck exercise, the auto man roars off. Like an F1 driver he weaves through traffic, missing a bus by .1 mm, avoiding a cyclist by a hairs breath…your heart which had kind of settled back into its place, now rushes back into your mouth. Your pulse rate goes up. Your entreaties to slow down turn to deaf ears. By the time he jumps his third red light and you just miss getting hit by a sea of oncoming traffic – you realize why those pictures are there on the side panels of his auto. If Rajini is your God start praying to him. For conventional people there is always Krishna.

Just then he will break all F1 records and go full speed over a speed breaker – for a few hair raising seconds, the auto will be suspended in mid air and so will you. Until you hit the roof and the auto settles down with a thud! And then you literally hit the roof and scream at the guy to “SLOW DOWN. I’m in no hurry to die.” He finally listens and does slow down but then oh the poor chap misses seeing the biggest pot hole on earth and dives right into it. So the auto goes kudha khudam kudam khudam and emerges out. A few bones in the body go crickity crick. At this point you need to quietly shake all body parts to see if anything is broken. If you’re lucky – you will be left with a tiny crick in the neck.

Finally! You reach your destination. You thank your lucky stars, that grinning Krishna and even that cocky Rajinikant. You pay the guy and get out. No bones broken. You’re fine. You’re alive! The adventure is over! Whew…