The Mumbai Daredevils

The IPL season and well to repeat a clichéd phrase, the cricket fever is on. But as the true aficionados would have found out by now, there is no such team as Mumbai Daredevils. It’s either Delhi Daredevils or the Mumbai Indians.

As it happens, I am very much a devout Cricket-ian and follow this religion fanatically. Further it is a mortal sin not to know Cricket in India, so unless I have my scriptures (facts) wrong, this is not about IPL, is it?

No, nope nopa nope. This is about the true daredevils of Mumbai, the Auto-Rickshaw Wallahs (henceforth referred to as ‘Daredevils’). Dressed in sleek white or Khakhi uniforms, these modern day warriors deliver the always in hurry Mumbaikars to their destinations. And like our all time favourite spy, Bond, James Bond who goes from one messy fight sequence to another with his tuxedo coming out cleaner every time , these warriors don’t lose their sheen either throughout their crusade.

Fighting the Mumbai traffic every day, the Metro rail construction at Andheri Kurla Road, the flyovers at Western Express Highway, the submerged Milan Subway, the burst water pipes at Juhu, name it and they have braved it. Not to mention the smooth dealings with the Maamu at the crossing when he has caught them jumping the traffic signal.

True Gentlemen these Daredevils are, maintaining a well oiled machine, following the fare meter to the T, returning the balance to the last Rupee and being extra kind to the old and the pregnant (mutually exclusive terms). Never to relent from earning their fare, if stuck in a jam of any sort (not fruit jam, silly) Daredevils will get you out of it. They know each No-entry, No U-turn, No parking signs by heart and make full-use of them; after seeking your approval of course.

Talking of Daredevils one must acknowledge the machine that gives them their identity. The Auto-ricksaw. Bearing the colours of a bumble bee (yellow and black), it has the same mighty buzz and the same mighty sting. Carrying the Mumbaikars, the ordinary and poor, the rich and the famous, the in-power and the out-of power politicos to their destinations, they carry the eternal spirit of Mumbai on their cushioned seats

One doesn’t need despair if one doesn’t spot an auto-rickshaw on the road. Just yell “Rickshaw” and lo and behold, one will materialise out of nowhere. Such are their magical powers. The magic is bound to be so, as they are so near to God. The interiors of each Auto-rickshaw are a mini-temple/mosque /church/gurudwara depending upon the orientation of the Daredevil. And they have the power to convert the most stringent atheists into believers. Just ask an atheist to hail an Auto-Rickshaw one day and in no time will the Daredevil’s driving skills have them praying for their lives.

I read somewhere that there is a very thin line between being Brave and being Foolish. I propose an amendment, suggesting that the ‘thin line’ be replaced by ‘iron-grill partition’. My proposed amendment is based on the fact that the brave Daredevils don’t care for their lives as long as you reach the destination and we are foolish for hiring the Auto-Rickshaw despite knowing the same. It goes Vice-versa too. But whichever way it goes, there is no ‘thin line’, there’s an iron grill partition between the two.

Whatever be the case, every morning when I am getting late for office, my very own Daredevil come to the rescue and makes me reach the office, always on time, though with my hands clutched for prayers.