Wisdom from an auto driver

Yesterday, I had the most pleasant encounter so far in India. I needed to go from Richmond town to Jayanagar by rickshaw. I had been warned: watch out for rickshaw drivers, try not to travel alone, and if you do, look for an older driver... they are usually safer. Use the meter, make sure you know the way so they don’t take you for a ride,... My rickwshaw driver must have been “l’exception qui confirme la regle”, the exception to the rule. My rickshaw driver was the third driver I flagged down. First, he was honest enough to tell me he knew the general area I needed to go to, but not the precise address, so he would have to ask once we got there. So I asked him for the meter. “Sure, not a problem m’am.” Then he apologetically told me he needed to stop at the gas station to get some gas, but that he would only turn on the meter once the gas tank was filled. Wow, I was impressed. Once on our way, he turned around, looked at me and said: “You don’t look Indian, m’am” (although he did break my heart by saying that, I must admit he was very observant ;-). “No sir, I am indeed not Indian”. “But m’am, you don’t sound American either, where are you from?”. “I am from Belgium”. Then he turns around and says with a broad smile: “Comment allez-vous, mademoiselle?” The expression on my face must have been priceless. So he continues and says: “Never judge someone by his appearance, m’am. Long time ago, when I was young, I studied French. I owned my own transportation business, then retired and was bored staying at home. So now I drive an auto so I can meet people. My daughters are probably your age. They both graduated from IIT. You know IIT, m’am? Very good school. Very smart girls.” I was starting to really enjoy this ride. A little further into the ride, my rickshaw driver turns around again and asks: “So, are you Christian in Belgium?” “Yes, we are”. “But it doesn’t matter, you know, m’am, ultimately we all believe in the same God. You call him something, I call him something else. To me religion is like food. We all need it for the same purpose, but each cuture has it’s own version of it. Each culture add it’s own spice to eat to make it its own.” Beautifully said, oh rickshaw driver of mine.

I wish I had asked his name. I hope I’ll see my favorite rickshaw driver again. And maybe he can teach me more wisdom.