March 2nd, 2010
Our first impressions of Jaipur were marred by the fact that we were not having good luck with three-wheeled vehicles. To begin with, as we were walking down a busy street, a large, overloaded auto-rickshaw comes haring down the wrong side of the road and suddenly swerves to avoid an oncoming vehicle right as it passes us. You may be relieved to hear that the loud crack was not its impact with either of us, but unfortunately it did manage to hit Paul’s camera in its canvas bag slung over his shoulder.
Later, on the way back from the fort we had been visiting, we decided we would get a bicycle rickshaw home. We had encountered more and more of these as we travelled further north and I thought that I much preferred using them to the hassle of the many obnoxious auto drivers which inhabit large cities. To begin with, bicycle fares are supposedly around half those of autos, and if you do end up paying a little over the odds, these are some of the poorest workers in the city. And boy do they work! Half the time I feel like I should be getting out to help push, despite the fact that neither Paul or I could really be described as excessively overweight. It’s amazing how much they can fit on these contraptions; anything from enough bags of rice to feed a small village, to the furnishings of an entire house! During our ride I was marvelling at one rickshaw loaded with not one, but two complete three-piece suites – that’s two sofas and four armchairs being tugged along by a little man on a bicycle. Unfortunately, I soon after discovered the disadvantages of relying solely on the pedalling power of a man probably three times my age and only two thirds of my size: lack of acceleration. While making a turn across the road, a motorcycle whizzed through, bearing down upon us at full tilt whilst apparently contemplating his toes, as he definitely didn’t notice us straddling the road. Our driver yelled and threw his (rather insignificant) weight forward, trying his best to inch out of the way. Inevitably, the shortsighted motorcyclist bumped into the side of our rickshaw, plonking himself down into the road and hopelessly bending the side tyre of our vehicle. The inescapable Indian commotion ensued, with rickshaw-wallahs who had witnessed from the sidelines hauling the startled motorcycle driver off to the kerb, while we were lugged back across the road and tried to avoid being dragged into the chaos. All the while, we were being honked at by the large jeep-like car behind, who obviously felt that we were rather inconsiderately holding them up. My mild surprise that no-one had got out to see everything was ok turned to astonishment when I saw who were seated inside. No less than the police, apparently unperturbed by the sight of a slight road accident involving a motorcyclist sprawled in the road and two very confused foreign tourists; they only wanted us to get out of their way. Just goes to show that while we may sometimes feel that all rickshaw drivers are scoundrels, they are apparently less so that the supposed figures of authority around there.
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