<p class="bodytext">‘RA Puram, Saar?’ I was taken aback by this unexpected query that morning by one of the auto-rickshaw drivers soliciting customers near the exit gate of Chennai Central train station. I had arrived there by the overnight Chennai Mail from Bengaluru after a hiatus of nearly six months. The man appeared somewhat familiar: he was presumably the same person I had hired on one or more of my previous journeys to the city. </p>.<p class="bodytext">During my years of weekly train trips to the Tamil Nadu capital, I always hired an auto from the same spot to my destination, which changed thrice over the course of those years: the first one was North Boag Road in T Nagar, followed by R A Puram in Chennai’s famous Adyar; this time, however, it was Thanikachalam Road in T Nagar. Because several of these auto drivers begin their day’s routine from here, they become acquainted with frequent travellers and their drop-off points; still, the fact that a person who deals with numerous commuters on a daily basis could recall my last location so exactly even after a long interval left me astounded.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Despite being ubiquitous across Chennai, offering last-mile connectivity to citizens, auto drivers have gained infamy in this southern metropolis, much like in other cities, for demanding unreasonable fares, particularly from newcomers. The fare meters affixed to their handlebars are simply decorative: I never saw them functional. However, as I commuted by auto for many years, I grew accustomed to their working style and perfected the art of haggling with them for the best fare. After determining what the ‘fair’ fare for a particular distance could be—and before the driver would quote it—I revealed what I would pay, effectively hinting that I was very much a ‘local,’ can’t be taken for a ‘ride.’</p>.<p class="bodytext">The autos in Chennai have a few distinctive features when compared to their Bengaluru counterparts. While the former gain speed quickly on a clear road, sometimes even beating high-end cars, the latter typically travel at a languid pace. Unlike in Bengaluru, the rearview mirrors in Chennai autos are pointed inwards, providing the driver an instant view of vehicles plying on his immediate sides. Then, one could find even XL-sized autos in Chennai that can hold plenty of baggage. </p>.<p class="bodytext">The impediment of language might make it difficult for an outsider to engage an auto driver in Chennai. Except that they ask arbitrary fares, I nevertheless found them friendly, informal, and helpful. In the past, a driver named Annadurai became the talk of the town for offering his passengers such oddities as newspapers, snacks, cold drinks, free WiFi, and, behold, an iPad!</p>
<p class="bodytext">‘RA Puram, Saar?’ I was taken aback by this unexpected query that morning by one of the auto-rickshaw drivers soliciting customers near the exit gate of Chennai Central train station. I had arrived there by the overnight Chennai Mail from Bengaluru after a hiatus of nearly six months. The man appeared somewhat familiar: he was presumably the same person I had hired on one or more of my previous journeys to the city. </p>.<p class="bodytext">During my years of weekly train trips to the Tamil Nadu capital, I always hired an auto from the same spot to my destination, which changed thrice over the course of those years: the first one was North Boag Road in T Nagar, followed by R A Puram in Chennai’s famous Adyar; this time, however, it was Thanikachalam Road in T Nagar. Because several of these auto drivers begin their day’s routine from here, they become acquainted with frequent travellers and their drop-off points; still, the fact that a person who deals with numerous commuters on a daily basis could recall my last location so exactly even after a long interval left me astounded.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Despite being ubiquitous across Chennai, offering last-mile connectivity to citizens, auto drivers have gained infamy in this southern metropolis, much like in other cities, for demanding unreasonable fares, particularly from newcomers. The fare meters affixed to their handlebars are simply decorative: I never saw them functional. However, as I commuted by auto for many years, I grew accustomed to their working style and perfected the art of haggling with them for the best fare. After determining what the ‘fair’ fare for a particular distance could be—and before the driver would quote it—I revealed what I would pay, effectively hinting that I was very much a ‘local,’ can’t be taken for a ‘ride.’</p>.<p class="bodytext">The autos in Chennai have a few distinctive features when compared to their Bengaluru counterparts. While the former gain speed quickly on a clear road, sometimes even beating high-end cars, the latter typically travel at a languid pace. Unlike in Bengaluru, the rearview mirrors in Chennai autos are pointed inwards, providing the driver an instant view of vehicles plying on his immediate sides. Then, one could find even XL-sized autos in Chennai that can hold plenty of baggage. </p>.<p class="bodytext">The impediment of language might make it difficult for an outsider to engage an auto driver in Chennai. Except that they ask arbitrary fares, I nevertheless found them friendly, informal, and helpful. In the past, a driver named Annadurai became the talk of the town for offering his passengers such oddities as newspapers, snacks, cold drinks, free WiFi, and, behold, an iPad!</p>
