Malvika's Ramblings

Auto ride

My mom and I approached the Noida auto stand. I needed an auto to go to Delhi. A number of guys, some lounging in the backseat of the auto. A harsh sun. Quick customary bargaining. As we talk to an auto driver with his shirt open, hair puffed with natural grease, he scratches his groin. As we talk.

I’m running late. I hop into the auto. We are on our way.

Soon, he rips a tobacco sachet expertly, empties the contents into his mouth and lets the aluminium coloured plastic sachet flutter away from his fingers out of the auto on the road. The rest of the way, he spits on the road. A red-light is like a watering hole. At any moment you can see a few heads going down as men spit on roads.

As we go along, I see the auto driver has a long fingernail on his pinkie, a nail grown to half an inch. Scratcher. As I put on my dark sunglasses, I try to block out more than just the sun.